Page 12 of Ghost of Ex-mas Past
“Besides,” Dad says, his voice sharpening. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you went way over budget on this house.”
“I am perfectly on budget on the house.”
Dad shakes his head. “The lift passes, the decorations, the food delivery,” he fumes. “We had an agreement.”
“Our agreement was that I would limit what I spent on the house. I did.”
He rolls his eyes. “If you think I’m going to let that loophole slide, you’ve got another think comin’, son.”
“Fine,” I bite out. “Believe what you want. I—” I shut down my retort when I see Jasper breaking away from the rest of the group and approaching us. When he gets here, he crosses his arms and hunches over, brows scrunched down. “What are we talking about? Global warming? Mass extinction? The systematic degradation of individual rights?”
I glance down at myself. Just like my dad, I have my arms crossed and my shoulders curved in. Simultaneously, Dad and I straighten and drop our arms.
Jasper grins and does the same. He’s taller than me, with dark skin from his Jamaican parents and a close-trimmed fade and a beard.
“How’s life back in Tampa?” I ask, diverting the conversation away from anything that will get our hackles up again.
“Good. Kayla is gearing up for the slew of newly engaged brides who need her makeup artistry for their photoshoots. All the holiday proposals, you know.”
“Romantic,” Dad says gruffly.
“I’m surprised you could get away from the restaurant,” I comment. Jasper didn’t join us last year because restaurants are so busy over the holidays.
“I quit,” he says.
It’s flippant, which is so like him, but my jaw drops and my eyebrows come together. “What are you going to do?”
“After the holidays, I’ll look for a new job. Something with better hours.” Now it’s his turn to cross his arms, and he pops his hip against the counter where we’re standing.
At least, until his wife calls across the room. “Babe,” Kayla says, widening her eyes and looking at my dad.
“Oh, right.” Jasper straightens. “I need to run to the store. Can I get your keys, or do you mind moving your car for me?”
“What do you need from the store?” Dad asks. “I can get it for you.”
My dad loves to run to the store. And my mom is pretty forgetful, so my parents’ day-to-day life is my mom forgetting to buy things at the store and my dad running to get them for her.
“Nothing,” Jasper says quickly. Too quickly. “Just, you know...women’s stuff.”
Dad levels him with a gaze. He may not have had a daughter himself, but he’s been around the Cummings family enough. “I’ve bought pads and tampons for every woman in this house before. What kind?”
Jasper sighs, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “It’s not tampons. Can you just move your car so I can get the rental out?”
“Nope.” My dad has a really dry sense of humor when he wants to and razzing Jasper is his favorite time to whip it out.
“Shit.” Jasper rubs his eyebrows. “Fine, it’s...I forgot to get decaf coffee.”
My gaze immediately goes to Kayla, and Dad turns enough that I know he’s looking at her too. She’s sitting with her mom and Bea, laughing and drinking a clear, carbonated beverage. Not wine, like everyone else.
Kayla’s on the softer side, and she’s wearing jeans and a blouse, so I can’t tell if she’s showing.
When I look back at Jasper, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Dude,” I whisper out the side of my mouth. “You could have just said decaf in the first place without being all sus about it, and we probably wouldn’t have said anything.” I clear my throat and return to normal volume. “Well, maybe not. Drinking decaf is weird. Nevertheless, now I’m like ninety-five percent sure I’m going to be an uncle.”
“Don’t.” He sighs again. “We’re still in the first trimester.” He runs a hand down his face. “Kayla’s going to kill me.”
My dad’s face splits into the biggest grin. A heart-achingly wide grin so large I can count his fillings. He leans over and clasps Jasper on the shoulder before digging the car keys out of his pocket. “Better run before she catches you. We won’t say a word.”
