Love Song(109)

Logan studies me before letting out a long, slightly overdramatic sigh. “Look. I’ve known you your whole life. I know you’re not a bad guy, even if your dick has done some questionable things in the past. But… If my daughter’s going to fall for anyone, I guess I’m okay if it’s you.”

“She hasn’t fallen for me,” I protest. “No one’s falling for anyone.”

“But,” he continues, ignoring me, “if you hurt one hair on her head, we will take another midnight boat ride, and I will fucking drown you.”

“I’ll probably stop him,” Dad says to neutralize the threat.

My gaze slides between the two of them. “So you’re friends again?”

Dad looks confused. “We were always friends.”

“You kept calling each other Mr. Logan and Mr. Graham at dinner.”

“Yeah. In a friendly way.”

Logan’s tone takes on a note of regret. “I’m sorry I called your son a whore, G.”

I scowl. “When did you call me a whore?”

He waves a hand. “Oh, you weren’t there for it.”

Dad shrugs from his perch at the copilot’s seat. “It’s all good,” he tells Logan. “He sort of earned that rep.”

“Blake will straighten him out,” Logan assures him.

“Obviously. She’s a great girl. He’s lucky to have her.”

I rumble in frustration. “Seriously? Now you’re both happy about this?”

“Of course,” Dad says. “We’ve been dreaming about this since we were boys.”

“You met in college!”

“College boys,” he shrugs.

I sigh. I will never understand this friendship. Ever.

But it’s not as confusing as all the emotions currently racing through me. As we start to head back to shore, I slump against the side of the boat, feeling like I’d just been ambushed and exposed at the same time.





Chapter 41


BLAKE





THE LAKE HOUSE HAS CLEARED out of everyone but me, Wyatt, and our parents. In other words, the most uncomfortable configuration of people you can ask for. I’d kill for an AJ and Beau fistfight right about now. But the Golden Boys are gone, Gigi’s not here to back me up, and Wyatt’s been acting weird the past couple days, leaving me on my own to field constant questions from the dads about our relationship.

Making my mood worse, I feel myself coming down with a cold, so I’ve been trying to take it easy today. I work on the puzzle with Wyatt, then go for a walk with my mom.

At dinner, we talk about our fall plans and lament about how there are only a few weeks left to summer. My parents are going to Paris in September to visit my grandma, Josie. I’m envious because I’d way rather go back to Paris than to Briar for my senior year. I still can’t muster any enthusiasm for this broadcasting major of mine. Or school in general. And my goal of figuring out what the hell I’m going to do after graduation remains unmet. At this point, I think I’m destined for mediocrity, and I should just accept that.

Beside me, Wyatt pushes his chair back to get seconds, glancing at me as he rises. “You need anything from the kitchen while I’m up, freckles?”

“More water would be great, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

When he returns, he sets a full glass next to my plate while planting a sweet kiss on the top of my head. I think it’s a reflexive action, because he then abruptly straightens as if remembering he’s supposed to be the cool and collected Wyatt Graham. Mr. Bad Boy with his messy hair and chunky rings.

As he retakes his seat, I notice our two fathers beaming.

“This is amazing,” Garrett declares.

“Everything I’ve always dreamed of,” Dad says happily.

“Oh really,” I challenge. “Suddenly you’re A-OK with this? You didn’t speak for three days.”

“We were always speaking in our hearts,” Dad says. “I don’t understand why they don’t get it, G.”

“They’re small thinkers,” Garrett agrees. “They can’t relate to big thinkers like us.”

I stifle a sigh while our moms laugh.

“What’s everyone up to tonight?” Mom asks the table. “Should we play a game? Monopoly?”

“Oh, we’re going to see the Spencers,” I tell her. “They’re heading back to New York tomorrow, so we’re hanging out with them on their last night.”

“Are you sure you want to take the boat out?” Mom frets, studying me. “You’re looking pale. Still trying to beat that bug?”

“It’s fine. We won’t be long.” I glance at Wyatt. “Just a couple hours, right?”

He nods. “Yeah. But you know what, let’s take the car. The drive’s longer, but you do look a bit pale. Don’t want you getting seasick.”

While the parents hang out on the deck, Wyatt and I clear the table and clean up, then make the drive to the Spencers. We’re not even halfway there when he suddenly pulls off onto the shoulder.

I look over with a frown. “What are you doing?”

He has already flicked the hazards on and is climbing into the back seat. “Quick. Hop on.”