Page 65 of Blitzing Emily

Brandon continued. “I did some color and game analysis during the preseason last year, and according to my agent, the network’s interested. I’m pursuing this, and we’ve had preliminary contract talks. I’ve been working with other announcers to prepare as well. It’s what I plan on doing.”

Emily’s father nodded. “Where’d you go to college again?”

“I went to LSU, majoring in mathematics. I graduated with my class.” This was impressive. Brandon explained to Emily previously that many football players either didn’t graduate from college, or graduated years after their class was gone. “I also hold a Master’s in math from the University of Washington.”

Emily broke in. “You didn’t want to teach?”

“I enjoyed the studying, sugar.”

Her father leaned forward in his chair as well, but his wasn’t the relaxed, easy pose Brandon exhibited. He braced himself as if he would spring from the chair at any moment.

“Brandon, I’m not going to play games with you. Mrs. Hamilton and I aren’t happy with how this engagement came about, and I notice that my daughter is still wearing your ring. Would you mind sharing with me what it is you thought was going to happen here?”

“Dad—”

“Emily, maybe it would be best if you went to help your mother in the kitchen for a few minutes,” her father said.

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re still my daughter, and I need to talk with Brandon privately. He’ll see you in a few minutes.” Her father’s voice was stern. He wasn’t relenting.

Emily got to her feet, leaving the room. She heard her father’s voice rising and falling as she walked through the house, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. Her mother glanced up in surprise as she entered the kitchen.

“What are you doing here, honey? I thought you were visiting with Daddy. Where’s Brandon?”

“Dad’s raking him over the coals. He said I had to leave.”

“He just wants to get to know him.”

“That’s not what’s happening right now. He made that clear enough.” Emily paused by the kitchen table. “Would you like some help?”

“Everything’s almost done. Maybe you could put the garlic bread in the breadbasket and take it out to the table.” Her mother bustled around the kitchen. She didn’t meet Emily’s eyes. Emily reached out and caught her hand.

“Mom, are you still mad?” Emily felt her chin wobble. “I’m sorry about what I said. It was—it was awful. I know you and Dad are disappointed.”

Her mother reached out to stroke Emily’s cheek. “Honey, I can’t stay mad at you.” She took a deep breath. “Your friend seems nice. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“Why?” The timer on the stove went off.

“We can talk about it later. Let’s carry the rest of the food into the dining room.” Her mother poked her head into the family room. “Dinner’s ready.”

Emily’s father still looked like a thundercloud. Brandon squeezed her hand and said in a low voice, “Things are fine, sugar.”

“I’m worried.”

“Smile for me.” His palm was warm and comforting on the small of her back.

At the table, Brandon pulled the chair out for her, settled her into it, and held the chair for Emily’s mother as she sat down. This earned him another less-than-happy look from Emily’s father. Meg smiled at him and said, “Thank you, Brandon.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am. Dinner smells delicious.”

“I hope it’ll taste delicious, too. Would you like some lasagna?”

“Yes, please.”

Her mother appeared somewhat bewildered by Brandon’s impeccable table manners. Her father must have thought it was some kind of act. Emily wondered if they thought he would throw food or something.

Her dad got up from his chair and left the room. He returned with Brandon’s bottle of wine, still frowning.

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