Page 122 of The Sadist and the Brat

“Never mind.” Jennifer kept one hand on Sadie’s arm as she turned to her husband. “What are you doing?”

Michael turned from the refrigerator, a pack of deli meat in one hand, a loaf of bread in the other, and a bottle of mustard tucked under his chin. “Making a sandwich.”

“No, you’re not.” Hurrying across the room, she took the food from him. “You’re going to go watch the football game.”

“It’s not on yet.”

“Watch the pre-game.”

“I hate the pre-game,” Michael said, adorably baffled in his rumpled Sunday suit, his wild mop of ginger hair springing out around his appealingly craggy face. “And I’m hungry.”

“Michael.” Exasperated, Jennifer dumped the food on the counter and planted her hands on her hips. “Look at your daughter’s face.”

Michael glanced at Sadie, then back at his wife. “What about her face?”

“Never mind. Just go watch TV,” she told him, and started pushing him out of the room. “I’ll make your sandwich and bring it to you.”

“You don’t put enough mustard on,” Michael grumbled, resisting. “Why can’t I make my own sandwich?”

“Because I need to talk to Sadie.”

“About what?”

“Her sex life,” Jennifer said bluntly.

“Oh.” Michael’s face flushed, and he was almost out of the room before he remembered his priorities. “The mustard—”

“I’ll use the whole damn bottle if you’ll just get out of here,” she promised, exasperated, and finally managed to push him through the open doorway.

“That man is going to drive me to drink,” Jennifer muttered and reached for the apron on a hook by the stove.

“Want me to make it?” Sadie offered, half rising from her stool.

“No, I’ve got it.” Settling the apron neatly over her dress, she pulled a plate down from the cupboard and reached for the loaf of bread. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Sadie said, a warm glow spreading in her at the question. Of course that would be the first thing her mother would ask. “I’m fine.”

Her gaze steady, Jennifer laid bread on the plate. “What happened?”

“I think I screwed up,” Sadie admitted, and just saying the words out loud made her want to burst into tears.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sadie ran a hand over her head, grabbing onto her ponytail like an anchor. Then she let it go, sucked in a deep breath, and talked. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

“The weird guy you didn’t bring to Thanksgiving.”

Sadie sputtered, half laugh, half sob. “Yeah.”

Jennifer picked up the package of deli meat. “What’s his name?”

“Jack,” she murmured. “His name is Jack.”

“Is he hot?” Jennifer wanted to know.

The question made her want to smile. “He is. And he’s funny, and kind, and generous…”

“What else?” Jennifer prompted gently, layering ham on bread.

---