Page 23 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
BRADY
“Hey, Mom.” I set my fork down, careful to avoid the pool of butter and syrup. I never should’ve agreed to come over for breakfast. “If you don’t stop staring, I’ll take this plate back to my place to finish these waffles in peace.”
She blinks at me from across the table. “Who’s staring?”
I meet her gaze, holding it steady for five seconds. “You.”
My dad reaches for the platter of bacon. “Don’t mind your mother. She’s just a hen living the dream of feeding both her chicks in one nest at the same time again.”
I smirk. “I live two blocks away, and Kasey’s not even eating with us. Shouldn’tshebe the victim of Mom’s mush-face?”
My mother clucks, proving my dad’s point. Sounding like a chicken is kind of her thing. She’s a real pro. “I can’t stare at Kasey. She’s upstairs getting dressed. And how dare you say my face ismushy.”
“I didn’t say your face is mushy.” I huff out a laugh. “I said you have a mush-face. Admit it, Mom. You’ve been gooey-eyed all week.”
“Oh, hush.” She brushes off my comment like it’s a speck of lint on her bathrobe. “I’m just a proud mama, that’s all. My only daughter is about to be a blushing bride, and she’s marrying the love of her life. Like your father said. It’s my dream come true.”
I cock an eyebrow. “And what does that have to do with me? I’m not exactly a blushing bride.”
“Maybe not.” She reaches out to pat my hand. “But my only son is on the road to becoming a veterinarian.” She lays her other hand over her heart, like she’s prepping for the pledge of allegiance. “You’re a dream come true too,Dr. Graham. You’re just taking a little longer.”
Here we go again. The waffles in my gut might as well be stones. “I’m still a long way from being able to afford vet school.” I shove the last bite in my mouth to mask the lump clogging my throat.
“I have faith in you, dear.” My mother beams. “Your father and I both do.”
“It’s just a lot of mon—”
My mother waves a fork at me. “Finish chewing, or you’ll choke.”
I nod and force the waffles down. I was mumbling with my mouth full to make the words less disappointing. But even when I speak clearly, my parents don’t really hear me. It’s not that they don’t listen. They just don’t like what I’m saying.
So I try again. “It’s just a lot of money.” I look down at my plate. This is the part where they usually cut me off. “And I can’t help wondering if the tuition will be worth it. No matter how much I’m able to save, I’ll still have to take out loans.” I lift my gaze, and my dad’s munching bacon. My mom’s sipping coffee. They’re both nodding, with glazed-over eyes. “Don’t you think starting a career in debt is less than ideal?”
“Bah.” My dad scoffs, reaching for his orange juice. “Once you’re a doctor, you’ll be able to pay back what you owe, and then some.” He drains his glass in three big swallows. “What matters is having a solid, stable career that can stand the test of time. Wayne Swanson’s been building that practice for years. And he’s just going to turn it over to you. Instant business! You’re one lucky man, Brady.”
My chest feels like someone wrapped a roll of duct tape around my torso. “Is that what everyone thinks? That I’m being handed a job I didn’t work for?”
My dad chuckles. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, son.” The man loves making animal jokes around me. He thinks he’s hilarious. “Taking over Wayne’s practice is a total no-brainer. Why are we even discussing this again?”
Because I’ve tried to discuss it before and failed every time.
Between my mom’s mush-faced pride over me becoming a doctor—not to mention my dad’s insistence that the most important thing in life is a steady, reliable income—I can’t possibly admit to everyone what I really want to do. I’m only guessing, but I would assume an author’s paychecks are the opposite of steady. And even Stephen King isn’tDr.Stephen King.
Then there’s the fact that Doc Swanson is counting on me to take over for him. With the way he runs his business, and the hours he puts in, I’ll never have time for—
“Something sure smells amazing,” Kasey says, floating into the kitchen. Even with a bag slung over her shoulder and a stack of beach towels in her arms, she looks like she’s walking on air. Pushing aside the knots in my stomach, I smile at my little sister. The most important thing this week is that she and Beau are happy.
She sets the towels and bag down on the counter, then collapses into the same chair she’s used for all the meals our family has shared here. For as long as I can remember, we’ve had our unspoken, assigned spots. Even now that Kasey and I don’t live in this house, we still return to our old habits whenever she visits. But as much as I love the nostalgia and routine, Kasey’s always been restless for a change of pace. Beau too. And now Nat will be with them out in LA.
I feel a little like they’re stealing her.
My mom hops up, adjusting her apron. “Let me get you some waffles, Kasey. They’re still warm.”
“No time.” She shrugs. “Beau will be here any minute.”
“At least have some bacon.” My dad points at the platter. “I saved the extra-crispy pieces for you.”
“Thanks! I’ll just take these to go, then.” She plucks the last two strips from the platter and wraps them in a napkin.
