Page 26 of One Golden Ring
Of course Derek would try and give me a hard time about it, but I would always tell him that a child couldn’t be raised on bean sprouts and protein powder alone, and he’d give me that indulgent smile he only trotted out once in a while.
“They’ll make whatever Darcy tells them to,” he says now, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “If they know what’s good for them.”
J.B. laughs a little too loudly, and I feel a wave of warm gratitude. This is actually kind of nice.
Then reality snaps back into place.
We’re not really going to get married. There will be no cake, no bridesmaids or best man.
And instead of never even knowing about it, J.B. is going to be very, very disappointed instead.
And why is she so on board with this whole thing so fast anyway? Aren’t kids supposed to be against their parents getting remarried? Shouldn’t she be pulling pranks on me or something?
But the two of us are friends. We have been since the first time Derek brought her in. I guess I can see how maybe this situation is a little different than most.
“Let’s focus on lunch for now,” Michael says warmly. “J.B., did you know they have Christmas crêpes here?”
“Oh, yes, I had some,” I tell her. “They’reamazing.”
They were pretty great, and I can only imagine they are even better if you eat them when they’re still warm.
“Why am I not surprised?” Derek asks no one in particular.
But when I glance across at him he’s smiling at me.
“You can’t food-shame people, Dad,” J.B. points out.
“I think it’s okay to tease the people you care about,” I tell her. “Just a little bit.”
I’m a little embarrassed that I’ve just implied that he cares about me, but he looks grateful when I sneak another peek at him.
“Not if you want them to marry you,” J.B. says, frowning. “Can I have crêpes for lunch?”
“Of course you can,” Michael tells her before Derek can try to make her eat soybean salad and bitter kale juice or whatever he’s having. “Let’s all take a page out of your father’s book today, and ask for exactly what we want.”
I smile at the sentiment, though I know it’s not true. I’m not what Derek Lockwood wants, no matter how much I wish I could be.
10
DEREK
Iwatch Darcy and Judi-Bloom—who apparently wants to be called J.B. now even though this is the first I’m hearing of it—laugh and chat their way through lunch like long-lost sisters while Grandpa Michael looks on fondly.
Everything is changing, from Grandpa’s illness right down to the name Judi-Bloom’s mom gave her.
But somehow I don’t feel like the bottom’s going to drop out from under us if I don’t force my grandfather into surgery or tell my daughter she’s not too cool for her name.
And I think that has everything to do with Darcy.
She’s the most organized person I know, but she also has this good-natured flexibility that must be rubbing off on me.
A tiny bit at least.
When Bronson swoops in with our food and places massive plates of barely disguised sugar in front of the girls I feel a twinge of frustration.
But I turn my attention to my own grilled chicken and keep my thoughts to myself. We all eat heartily, and even Grandpa Michael puts away a big bowl of chicken noodle soup.
By the time the meal is over I’m feeling halfway normal again and all I want is to take them all on a carriage ride and keep this good feeling going. But I know what I have to do instead.
