Page 76 of Something Forever
“Got married pretty fast,” my dad replies, a hint of judgement in his tone.
“Dad,” I say in warning.
Whitney smiles. “It’s okay. You’re right. We did get married quickly, but I knew pretty fast that Liam was the one.”
My chest flutters wildly. I know she’s pretending — trying to prove she’s a good actress, or whatever — but her words and the warmth in her tone sound so real.
I wish they were real.
Whitney turns to me and presses her hand on my stomach, staring up at me. “Thanks for the tea, babe. I’m going to go freshen up. What are we doing for dinner?”
I take a deep breath. I’m starting to regret teasing her, because this is not good. She can’t keep looking at me like that. Like she cares about me.
“I thought we could cook here. I got stuff for burgers. Are you feeling up for eating?”
“If you’re ill, Whitney, I can go off on my own,” Andy says.
She shakes her head. “No, no. Burgers sounds great. I should try to eat something.”
I watch her leave, my eyes drawn to the sway of her hips as she crosses the room and my chest still tingling from where her hand was resting.
“She’s stunning, Li,” my dad says when Whitney is out of earshot.
I nod, rubbing my hand on the back of my neck. “She is.”
Before I can say anything else, my dad comes around the counter and wraps his arms around me. He’s always been a hugger and a bit of a sensitive soul. Reluctantly, I wrap my arms around him, sighing into his arms.
He pulls back from our embrace, meeting my eyes. “So, you gonna tell me about school now?”
I shake out of his grip and sit in one of the kitchen stools with a sigh. “Shouldn’t we at least have a pint first?”
He chuckles. “Alright. Good thing I brought a six pack, then. Figured I’d need to bribe you with Boddingtons.”
“Seriously? Boddingtons? Do they even make those anymore?”
“Believe it or not, I’ve been storing them in the basement for years. Was waiting for a special occasion.”
“I’m not drinking fifteen-year-old beer. I’ll run down to the corner shop and grab some.”
“But I lugged ‘em all the way here!”
Shaking my head, I grab my keys and slide my shoes on.
“Don’t interrogate her while I’m gone,” I tell my dad.
He raises his eyebrows innocently. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I slip out of the kitchen, not quite believing him. I hope our acting skills are enough to make it through my dad’s questioning. All I know is when it comes to my wife, I’m way out of my depth.
“You sure you don’t want a beer, Whitney?” my dad asks, pulling another Guinness out of the fridge.
She shakes her head. “No, thanks. I don’t really like beer except for sours and the occasional Corona with lime.”
My dad gasps as if Whitney’s committed a horrible crime. “Corona,” he says in disbelief. “Li, you should’ve told me your wife had such shit taste.”
“Dad,” I warn, but Whitney just throws her head back, laughing. She’s been cracking up at everything my dad says, and my mood is swinging between thrilled admiration at the way her smile lights up her whole face and childish sourness that I’m not the one who put it there. When I got back from the bodega hours ago, I found my dad and Whitney laughing like old friends. I asked what the hell was so funny, but they just burst into another round of laughter, after which Whitney told me I just had to be there.
Needless to say, I’m losing my mind.