Page 154 of Stand and Defend
We opened presents, wellsheopened presents, which consisted of more cliché Christmas gifts: an ugly sweater, socks, and the classic three-flavor tin of popcorn. All the candy canes are Sour Patch Kid flavored, because it’s her favorite.
For our big dinner, we had takeout—her request—and now we’re winding down, curled up watchingNational Lampoon’s Christmas Vacationin what else but our coordinating Christmas PJs. I can’t stop stealing glances as shewatches the movie. I could stare at this woman for days. She kicks her feet up and laughs, falling into me, and I wrap my arms around her tighter. My fingers slide through her hair like silk. I make a vow to give her this Christmas every year for the rest of our lives.
56
Now that the Landrys are back from Monaco, we’ve decided to host a family dinner tomorrow to get everyone together. Our families run in some of the same circles, but as far as we know, they haven’t ever had dinner together, outside of some charity shit. Jordan’s family is in a higher bracket, whereas my family knows senators, her family knows the president. I’m really hoping this dinner party goes well.
Lonan’s wife, Birdie, is one of the best chefs in Minneapolis. She came over and helped us put together the meal, which took some of the stress away. Especially for me, I’ve got enough on my plate already with what I plan to ask her dad. I’ll marry Jordan whether or not I have his blessing, but getting it would make my life a lot easier. I’d like our families to get along.
The Landrys arrive first. They’re early.
As I walk to the door, I give the house a once-over. Jordan has been watering “Chris Smith” for almost four weeks now, by some miracle it’s still alive, and she refuses to take it down until it dies. I don’t even mind, it reminds me of howmuch fun we had, it was a good day—and an even better night. I open the right side of the large half-rounded double doors and usher them in.
“Good to meet you face-to-face, sir,” I say, holding out my hand to her father. He takes it with a firm handshake.
“Likewise.” Jordan hurries into the foyer with a smile. Chicken Salad isn’t far behind.
“Hi! How was your flight home?” Jordan asks.
“Uneventful,” Frank Landry says, satisfied, hugging his daughter. He passes me a box of twenty-five-year-old Scotch from the Macallan Red Collection.Fucking baller.
We nod to each other. Patricia Landry hugs Jordan, and, surprisingly, gives me one too. “Thanks for coming over on such short notice.”
“Of course.”
Jordan leads them farther into the house. She uncorks a bottle of wine and starts pouring.
We chat in the kitchen, making small talk until Frank claps his hand on my back and says, “Camden, let’s open up that bottle, shall we?”
“Yes sir.” He doesn’t mean here. Shit, he might not even be thirsty. He wants to get me alone to give me some speech about respecting his daughter, which is ironic because I know firsthand how much Jordan enjoys being disrespected. “I keep the glasses downstairs.”
I lead the way, heading toward the open staircase.
“Let’s keep it casual, nix the sir stuff,” he says under his breath. Mr. Landry gets down to business.
“You got it.”
Her mother gasps in the living room as we descend the stairs. “What on earth is that?”
“Our Christmas tree!” Jordan answers proudly.
“It’s March!” she shrieks.
That’s the last I hear of their conversation after passing through the double glass doors to the bar area. I open the plush box of Scotch, pull out the bottle and a couple of snifter glasses from the shelf. After giving each of us a pour, we nod and take a sip.
Frank Landry is from old money, so while he can afford a much more expensive bottle, this is probably his favorite, and that means a lot.Also, it’s really fucking good Scotch.
“She talked you into getting that god-awful tree, didn’t she?”
I bark out a laugh. “There’s not much that’ll stop her when she sets her sights on something.”
His brows furrow. “Is that so?”
That response has me curious. “Does that come as a surprise to you?”
He sort of shrugs and stares into his glass. “Jordana always kept her fire inside. She never wanted to rock the boat. She was the perfect child—no, notperfect—she was aneasychild.She obeyed and did what she was supposed to. Though, I always felt like we did something wrong. She had confidence, but zero passion to channel it through. Until lately, it seems...” He looks up at me with a smirk.
It’s hard to be humble. “I wish I could take all the credit, but I think Bryan was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She had enough, and she let him know it.” I eye him carefully.