I wrap my other hand around his and stare out of the window for a minute. “You kind of screwed me up, you know,” I say, my voice low.
There’s a long pause, then a neutral “how?”
“I haven’t been able to write an angry breakup song for nearly a month.”
He laughs and his shoulders lose their tension. “Sorry.”
“But, Josh, also . . .”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the best guy I’ve ever known.”
He gives a low whistle. “That is saying something when you have guys like NilesQuil hanging around all the time.”
I give his hand a light pinch. “Stop ruining the moment.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’s still smiling.
“And I don’t want you to be in a fight with your parents.”
By now, we’re turning into the Grove parking lot. He doesn’t answer until he’s parked the car and cut the engine. “Whatever is going on there is a me and them thing, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you. They might try to say it does at first, but if anything, you’ve given me clarity, okay? I’m not going anywhere, and they can choose to believe the evidence or not. But I’m not the entitled kid I was. And watching you chase down your goals has been making me think about mine.”
He turns and draws me toward him, meeting me over the console. “You’re true to yourself, Sami. I’m learning from that.”
I’m still worried about how he left things with his parents. There’s some fixing that needs to happen, but when his lips touch mine, and his sweet kiss turns searching, it drives out every thought except him. The cute boy next door has turned out to be made of all kinds of layers, but this one, this melting, magical kissing thing he does?
This one is my favorite.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Josh
Imadeitsoundsimple to Sami after dinner last night, but it’s not. It’s hard to be at a standoff with your father when he’s also your boss. He can call me up to his office whenever he’s ready to talk, regardless of whether I am, and that’s what he does when he gets into the office this morning.
“Have a seat, son,” he says when I walk in. Or orders, really. I do, not saying a word.
“When Reagan told us you’d been out partying the night before you blew it with NewTekk, I thought, ‘Here we go again.’ But you sat right there and told me things were different, that you care about your job and this firm, and it was a one-time screwup.”
“It was.” Maybe he was listening. Maybe he believed me. Maybe this isn’t going to be the lecture I was dreading all the way up the stairs to his office.
“I’ve seen you blow it too many times to believe that, but your mother did. She told me to give you a chance, to watch you over the next few weeks and see which Josh we were getting in the office: before-law-school Josh or after-law-school Josh. The jury was out until last night.”
I cross my legs at the ankles and slide my hands into my pockets. No matter what he says next, at least it’ll look like I don’t care. “What’s the verdict?”
“That I was right not to believe you.”
The words land like punches.Not.Jab.To. Cross.Believe. Hook.You.Uppercut.
“Your evidence?” I keep my voice calm, like this whole conversation is merely interesting, an anonymous case like the ones he used to have me and Reagan analyze with him over dinner.
“Your girlfriend.” There is no mistaking the disapproval when he can’t even bring himself to say her name. “You had us believing at first. Steady career, Pi Phi, dressed the part, held her own at dinner with the Reillys. Instead, she’s the same wild tail you’ve always chased. Tattoos. Rock band. It’s ridiculous. When are you going to outgrow this?”
My hands clench at his disgusting reduction of Sami. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
He snorts, but he sees something in my face that keeps him from doubling down. “She’s not the problem,” he says. “She’s the symptom.”
Like that somehow excuses his words.
