“We love you, Flapjack,” Marty said, and his face appeared on half the screen. All puckered forehead and brows, just like her mom.
“I love you, too, Daddy,” she said. “But why do you want to go to the wedding?”
“When he asked us for our permission, he became my son,” Maura said. “Just because you broke up, that doesn’t mean I can just walk away. He’s family to me. But if it really makes you upset, I’ll tell him I can’t go.”
Annie was floored. She’d never once considered what it was like for her parents when Annie’s relationships didn’t work out. It was the same fierce love that allowed Maura to love Annie as if she’d carried her nine months that kept her from missing Clark’s big day.
Heart in her throat, Annie shoved away all the Clark-inspired frustration over the situation. “Go, Mom. It will be a beautiful wedding.” I should know. “You can tell me if the floating peonies look as elegant as we pictured.” Then quickly, “But don’t feel obligated to share that picture.”
“Are you sure?”
“This way you can get the ten grand Clark owes me.”
They went through their five-minute routine of saying goodbye, which included Annie promising to eat three whole meals, Maura reminding her to floss, and blocking out time for the next video call—in pen.
“Love you guys,” Annie said, finger poised to end the call.
“Maybe I’ll find you a nice husband at the wedding,” Maura said.
“What your mother means is, we love you,” Marty said, then ended the call for her. He must have heard Annie request the rest of the muffins and wanted to return the favor.
She looked up at Emmitt, who was leaning against the counter, casual as can be, brows raised in question. “Flapjack?”
“Before you say anything more, remember Sweet P,” Annie said. “Every kid gets an embarrassing nickname from their dad.”
“Mine was Dump Shit,” he said, and Annie was so stunned she jerked back.
“He”—she caught herself right before saying Les—“called you that?”
“And Sweet P is a great nickname,” he said, ignoring her question.
The front door blasted open, and Emmitt and Annie sprang apart moments before Paisley came bursting into the kitchen. Backpack on the floor, bag of glitter and fabric on the counter, she jumped into her dad’s arms.
“I passed out all the invites,” she squealed. “And guess what?”
“What?”
“Everyone is coming.” She gave him a big smack on the lips and then stepped out of his arms and skipped to the fridge. “Everyone! Even Kristan. She drove me home today. Don’t worry. Daddy already knows her and she’s driven me home from school before, and she’s going to help me plan the most ‘epic sleepover’”—she did dancing quotes with her fingers—“Kristan’s words not mine. In fact, that’s what she wants to refer to it as. She thinks it will help distract everyone from your ‘No Boys policy,’” she said, not stopping to take a breath. “Oh, and I promised I’d talk to you about possibly removing the—”
“No boys. That was the deal.”
“That’s what I told her, but you know Kristan.” She stopped and tilted her head sideways. “Wait, you do know who Kristan is, don’t you?”
“Nope, but you seem excited. That’s enough for me,” he said, and it was Annie’s turn to be amused.
“She’s a junior who has her own car. Her own car!” Paisley’s hands were in constant motion, grabbing a soda, a snack, putting her water bottle in the sink, bouncing around the kitchen like a pinball. Annie needed a nap just watching her. “It’s super old, like a 2009 Nissan or something. Her grandma gave it to her, but who cares, she says we can go shopping for all the party stuff next week.” And for the first time since she came home, she paused. “Is that okay?”
“Ah, yeah,” he said. Paisley might never know just how much her simple question had affected Emmitt, but Annie could see the emotion in his eyes. “I can give you some cash.”
“That’s okay. Daddy gave me his credit card, and—” She turned. “Oh my God, I totally forgot to tell you, Sam told me what you did today.”
Oh boy. Annie glanced at Emmitt, wondering what he could have done to possibly top threatening the kid. Only instead of yelling, Paisley began squealing.
“I assume he talked to you about being on the decoration committee?” Emmitt was speaking to Paisley, but his ye of little faith tone was all for Annie.
“Yes! He joined! I’ll tell you about it at dinner, I have