Page 71 of Legally Mine

Brandon slouched in his chair and laid a heavy arm on the back of my seat. I had a clear vision of what he must have been like as a teenager, going head to head with Ray on a nightly basis. Susan just took a bite of chicken and chewed it for a very long time.

"See, this has always been your problem, Bran––" Ray started.

"Here we go," Brandon said under his breath as he sat up again to eat.

"That's right, and I won't stop saying it. You think that money means the same thing as real accomplishments. You took that brain of yours and capitalized on it, getting embroiled with that ridiculous family along the way, instead of making real contributions to the world like I know you're capable of."

Ray finished his diatribe and bent to keep eating while Susan just looked on sadly.

"It's a waste," Ray mumbled through a mouthful of potatoes. "Always has been."

Brandon exhaled forcefully out of his nose, while Susan bit her lip sympathetically, clearly having watched this exchange countless times before. I, however, hadn't, and it was infuriating.

"But he does make real contributions!" I burst out.

All three other heads at the table swiveled toward me. A flush immediately bloomed across my face, and I took a deep breath. This wasn't how I'd wanted to play the first meeting with Brandon's parents, but I couldn't sit by silently.

"I'm sorry," I continued, trying my hardest to ignore Ray's hard stare.

He was formidable in his own way, but I'd also been raised by Bubbe, not to mention having grown up in New York City and attending the most rigorous law school in the world. I could handle a few hard looks, and I could dish them out too.

"I just can't sit by and let you call Brandon a waste," I said.

"Skylar," Brandon said, reaching for my hand under the table. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," I told him, and caught an approving glance from Susan. I turned back to Ray. "Do you know what Brandon does for this city? He uses his money, his time, for so much good. His firm basically fully funds an entire pro-bono center at Harvard for low-income families. He gives away millions of dollars every year to charities, including an outreach program that scouts gifted kids like him from disadvantaged neighborhoods and gives them access to the kind of educational experiences he got from you two. And then, of course, there's his lab."

Ray frowned, but perked up visibly. "Lab? What lab."

I turned to Brandon, who seemed to be trying his hardest to melt his large form into the floor. His features, tinged pink, were set in stone. I couldn't tell if he was pleased, embarrassed, or angry. Maybe a bit of all three.

"He should know," I said to him.

Brandon waved a hand around the table. "You're on a roll," he said, refusing to meet my eyes like an embarrassed teenager. "By all means, keep going."

"Brandon, you hush. You've found someone who's proud of you," Susan said as she beamed at me. "And I, for one, enjoy hearing all of this, since you don't tell me a thing about it. Continue, dear."

So I did, with a grim glance at Brandon, whose expression I still couldn't read. "Okay, well, he has this workshop on the top floor of his house." I turned back to Ray, who looked utterly confounded by this revelation. "You'd probably love it, Dr. Petersen. He makes these...I don't even know what to call them. Contraptions. Inventions. Amazing things he could sell, but he doesn't, because he's just interested in building them for the sake of building. Brandon, you should show him those drawings in your bag."

I took a deep breath. Brandon sad nothing, but his hand squeezed mine tightly and didn't let go. Okay, that was a good sign.

"Whatever you want to say about him, you can't call him a waste, Dr. Petersen. Your son––"

I tripped over the word, not sure if I should say that or not to a man who had never fully adopted Brandon. But the word fit. Ray Petersen was the closest thing to a father that Brandon had ever had.

"Brandon," I clarified, "is one of the most brilliant, accomplished, contributing people I have ever met, by any standard. And that's all there is to it."

I finally looked up to the stone-still man next to me. Brandon's expression had barely moved, but now his eyes glowed, glittering, cerulean jewels of gratitude.

"Thank you," he mouthed silently.

I just smiled back. Then we both turned to Ray and Susan, who were staring at us with mutually dumbfounded expressions, although Susan's had more than a tinge of pride in it as well.

"Well," she said finally. "I guess that is that. Brandon, you hold on to this one. And I hope you can show her the same kind of support she's giving you."

Brandon kissed me lightly on the forehead. "Oh, I plan to," he said, although his eyes never left mine.

He bent again to his food. With a quick glance to Ray and Susan, I did the same, willing the insistent flush to fade from my cheeks. Sometimes I really hated my Irish blood.