“Because we barely know each other, honey. And even though the limited knowledge I have of you is wonderful and filled with all sorts of things I like, we haven’t graduated to cleaning up spoiled food in my parents’ kitchen.”
I see it before I hear it.
The thread of anger in his eyes.
“Excuse me?” he says, stepping closer, gripping my arms.
Not tightly.
But firmly enough so I can’t escape.
“This isn’t your problem to solve,” I say quietly.
“And you standing at my side last night with Angela wasn’t your nightmare to step into.”
“It was nothing,” I say. “Literally just standing at your side. This is…”
Softness wars with annoyance. “What’d I say, buttercup?”
I frown. “About what?”
“You’re smart. Sweet. Kind. Funny. Beautiful.” His eyes hold mine. “You honestly think I found all of that and I’m not going to do everything to keep it?”
I suck in a breath.
“Yes, the house is a mess neither of us created. No, I didn’t like what I walked into and I’m sure as shit not going to allow that to happen again.” He touches my cheek. “But I’m not a dumb man, baby. I know a good thing when I’ve found it. And I know that I’m not going to leave you to deal with this shit alone.” He brushes his lips over mine. “Not a fucking chance in hell.”
My dad yells from down the hall, asking again if I’m okay.
Jean-Michel releases me then gives me nudges toward the hall.
“Go and talk to him,” he orders. “I’ll check on your mom.”
More orders.
But I don’t bring that up. Not right now.
I know he hears the unspoken thought, though.
Because when I pause in the hall and glance back at him, he’s smiling at me.
And…I smile back.
Somehow, despite all of this, I smile back.
Thirty
Jean-Michel
I can feelthe exhaustion dragging at Tiff’s limbs, and I want to step in, want to take over.
But this is her family.
Her parents.
I’m not leaving her alone to deal with it, but I’m also not sweeping in and minimizing all the time and effort she’s put in, not minimizing the fact that she’s fully capable of handling this.
She’s amazing.