Page 122 of Fly Boy
“Just Wyatt, Mrs. Cartwright,” he says, placing a kiss on her cheek.
“Oh shoot,” she says, grimacing as he helps her into her seat. Lifting her napkin, she flicks it out, placing it onto her lap. “Old habits.”
“It’s okay.” He holds out his hand for my father. “Mr. Cartwright.”
“Wyatt,” Dad replies, his expression stoney, his shoulders squared, looking every part the businessman as he shakes my boyfriend’s hand.
My tongue feels too thick for my mouth as I watch them stare, gazes hard, hands coiled tightly around one another’s, and all we’re missing is the bared teeth like two alpha wolves trying to fight for submission.
I glance at Nancy, not sure what to do. This is new territory for me—the whole meeting the parents. I’ve never introduced a boyfriend to my father, partly because they weren’t anything to write home about, but also, he literally fired Wyatt a week ago.
“Dad,” I caution as Nancy rolls her eyes, swatting his thigh.
“Stop posturing, Charlie,” she scolds, lifting her menu and studying it. “We all know you’re not the stoic grumpy man you’re trying to make Wyatt believe you are.”
He looks at her from the corner of his eye as he drops Wyatt’s hand, pulling out his own seat and tucking himself under the table. “I am, too!”
“You are not.” She leans forward, whispering conspiratorially. “Your father cried watchingMarly and Melast night.”
I bark a laugh, the tension I’ve carried since I woke up this morning somewhat ebbing.
“Nancy!” Dad huffs, turning to mockingly glare at his wife.
“What?” she shrugs innocently. “This was meant to be a nice, open and honest conversation.”
“And telling them that I cried over a movie has nothing to do with my daughter's relationship with my former employee,” he deadpans.
And just when I thought the tension was gone.
I reach over and grab my water glass, gulping as much as I can in one breath. It turns out, though, that when you have three sets of eyes on you, it’s incredibly difficult.
You have millions of eyes on you when you skate, Pippa. This should be easy.
“I’m in love with Wyatt,” I blurt, and he makes a strangled choking sound from beside me, coughing as his own water splutters out of his mouth. “Shit, I maybe should have waited until you weren’t drinking.”
He dabs his napkin across his lips. “Little bit of warning would have been nice.”
Dad raises his eyebrows as Nancy hides a smile behind her menu. “And what about you, Wyatt? Do you love my daughter?”
“I d—”
“Yes, he does,” I jump in, cutting him off, the room weirdly getting hotter with each word. “And I’m going to be with him, regardless of whether you approve.”
“Pippa,” Wyatt murmurs, low enough that only I can hear, but the warning is loud and clear.
“No, Wyatt,” I snap, fixing my eyes on him. “I’m serious. I’m serious about you, and if my dad can’t handle that, then…tough.”
“Such a brat,” he mutters, picking up a bread roll and tearing off a small piece.
I look at my dad, my pulse hammering in the side of my neck. Fear coats my skin as he watches me, his eyes sharp, his mindwhirling and suddenly, I feel like that little girl who needed her daddy’s permission to go to skating camp.
And just as much as I wanted that with all my being, and even though I said I didn’t care, I reallydowant his approval of Wyatt. More than anything in the world. Because my dad not being supportive of my relationship would kill me.
“Look,” I continue, laying my cards all out on the table. “If you need time to process this, then I can give you that, but—”
“Okay, Pippa, lower your defenses,” Dad says, a crease in his forehead. “I’ve never said I wasn’t on board with this thing between you two. But as your father, I’m allowed to have some…concerns.”
I reach over and place my hand over his, hoping the gesture conveys words I can’t, that I’m still his little girl, but I can make my own decisions.
