Frenchman. It’s good to see you back on your feet.”
“Grandma Jo!” Giselle calls from the other room, hurrying in to greet her with a hug.
“There’s my Go Fish buddy,” Grandma Jo says, hugging her warmly. “How are you, my dear?”
“Good. Can I take your coat?”
“You most certainly can, thank you.”
My mom turns to my dad and says, “Apparently we missed a lot by not getting an invite to the hospital. Everyone else is like old friends and we’re the odd people out.”
I sigh softly and Olivier squeezes my hand.
“Mom, it wasn’t really an invite kind of thing,” I say. “We were all just worried about Olivier the whole time.”
“I know that, dear, but when people wondered why my mother-in-law was allowed to see Olivier and I wasn’t, I had no answer.”
“Is it really a wonder she didn’t want you there?” Grandma Jo snaps. “You make everything about you, Sandy.”
“Who wants a drink?” Olivier asks.
“I’d love one,” my father says.
Olivier heads for the kitchen, my father following.
“We’re thrilled about you and Daphne, Olivier,” my dad says. “And hoping you have a swift recovery.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope we’ll have some time to sit and talk tonight,” my dad says, which is code for I plan to hit you up for either money or a favor.
I look between my dad and Olivier and my mom and Grandma Jo, not sure which group to tackle first. I feel like I need to mediate my parents’ interactions around Olivier.
He can handle himself, though. I decide to get myself a drink instead. I’ve mostly been drinking water since I started staying at Olivier’s, but time with my parents calls for something stronger.
I’m two glasses of wine in when Giselle gives me a sympathetic smile over the dinner table. My mother is not so subtly making the case for why the wealthy need to protect their interests with donations to conservative PACs and candidates.
“Will you just stop?” I finally say, glaring at her.
“Stop what?” she asks, her tone offended.
“Tonight, you’re at dinner at your daughter’s boyfriend’s house,” I say, exasperated. “That’s it. Don’t ask him for money or anything else. It’s embarrassing.”
My mom gives my dad a horrified look. “Why is she always accusing me of having ulterior motives?”
“Because you always do?” I respond.
She gives me a stern look. “Your father and I have a right to know where the man in your life stands politically.”
“No, you don’t. We love each other. That should be enough.”
My father gives me his condescending if only you understood how the world works look.
“We only want what’s best for you Daphne. And I assume Olivier is politically conservative, given his wealth. But if not, we need to know sooner rather than later. My team can start working on damage control now, rather than when the news hits.”
“I’m an independent,” Olivier says. “And I’m very much in love with your daughter and hoping to have a good relationship with your family. But if you want to know what my values are, they’re the same as Daphne’s. I’ve learned a lot from her about how giving to the less fortunate can change the world for the better. The things that matter to her also matter to me now.”
Tears well in my eyes as I look at him, grateful. It’s not just gratitude for what he said, but for the way he stood up to my parents.
“You’ve got my vote, Frenchman,” Grandma Jo says.
Olivier smiles and says, “Thanks.”
Then he does the impossible and defuses the tension in the room, asking, “Does anyone want to join me for a Blaze game Saturday night? The owner’s box has a great view of the ice.”
“I will,” Grandma Jo says. “And I won’t say no to a private tour of the locker room after the game, either. Preferably right as the players are getting out of the shower.”
Laughing, Giselle says, “If Grandma Jo is in, I’m in, too.”
“Mom?” I ask, trying to make peace.
She looks at my father, who nods. My mom turns to Olivier with an expression I’ve never seen on her face before—resignation.
“We’d love to go,” she says stiffly. “Thank you for the invitation.”
I meet Olivier’s gaze across the table and he winks. Apparently, I underestimated him. He handled my parents better than I ever have. Aiden always rolled over and gave my mother anything she wanted.
Olivier is a real man, though. And there’s nothing sexier. Instead of telling him, though, I plan to show him—as soon as we’re alone in bed tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daphne
“Grandma Jo, what do you