Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,117

good Lord calls…but he doesn’t hang up.”

“You couldn’t get me within ten miles of a seminary school.”

“No matter how much you needed it.”

They wouldn’t have taken me anyway. Minsters weren’t supposed to sleep around as much as I did, and it wasn’t acceptable for them to drink as much as I liked. And I refused to end up like a carbon copy of my family. My parents worked to create the ideal marriage, meaning I was supposed to go to seminary, find a parish, marry some virgin, then start knocking her up like a brood mare to create a family of suburbanite perfection.

No thanks.

Dad didn’t hide his disappointment. “I know why he’s here. Nathan is after the Prescott girl.”

Jesus, she had a name. He didn’t always have to sound so damned sanctimonious, especially when we were neighbors with the Prescott girl.

“I’m a groomsman in the wedding,” I said. “I got things to go over with the Maid of Honor.”

“You leave that girl alone.”

“I’m not doing anything to that girl.” At least, not yet.

“Amanda Prescott deserves a nice man.”

“Who says I’m not nice?” I shrugged. “And who says I’m even after Mandy?”

“Oh good.” Mom patted a flat hand over her heart. “I was worried.”

I frowned. “About…?”

“Well, the Prescotts are…and you’re…”

Were they serious? Somehow time warped me into a conversation better suited for 1962.

“That’s great,” I said. “Who would Jesus date, right?”

My mom protested, but I ignored her, taking the steps to the house two at a time. I hated that it looked like we planned to come together. I’d been out of the family and away from my dad’s expectations since I was eighteen. Five minutes in his presence and I was outraged again.

I knocked. Mom licked her thumb and tried to rub an invisible smudge of dirt off my cheek.

Fantastic.

Mandy opened the door, her mouth dropping open as she looked from me to my parents. I gave a little shrug. It confused me too. She didn’t care.

“Pastor Kensington, Kathy, thank you so much for coming.” Mandy nearly leapt into my father’s arms. He offered a hand to shake, but she used it to haul him inside. “I hoped we wouldn’t need you to intervene, but…”

“I understand,” Dad said. “Some families require a little spiritual intervention to focus on what’s important. I’m here to give advice and guidance during this time.”

Mandy nodded. “Yeah, you aren’t wearing a flak jacket by any chance, are you?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Can I get you some coffee?”

My parents always did love Mandy, though apparently, not as much as I thought. They smiled as she led them inside, practically ripping their arms out of their coats to play hostess.

I followed her to the kitchen. I wasn’t about to witness my father witnessing to the Prescotts. Not sure why he insisted we pretend to be so perfect when every other family greeted him with puckered asses and false sincerity. My dad’s ideal world was some Leave it to Beaver bullshit…until the oldest child disrespected the father’s wishes, got the hell out of the house, and became a stain on their good name.

The American way.

Mandy leaned over the sink. She sipped the running water with her hand only to spit it out. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she took a breath deep enough to twist her inside out.

“It can’t be going that bad,” I said.

She yelped and spun to face me. I avoided the towel she pitched at my head.

“You should warn someone before you sneak up on them.”

“You’re right.” I grinned. “Bend over the sink again. I’ll make my presence known.”

“Very funny. What are you doing here?”

So she was playing it cold tonight. Good to know. But I wasn’t going to beg to get another chance with her. Luckily, Mandy wasn’t cruel enough to get off on that.

“You wanted to go out tonight,” I said.

“Oh my God, you were serious?”

“You weren’t?”

“I never thought you’d actually show up.”

Ah, a vote of confidence. Great. “Well, here I am. You ready to go?”

“Are you kidding?” Mandy pointed to the living room. “It’s Thunderdome in there. I can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“Because my dad’s here, trying to figure out his half of the wedding costs while Mom is trying to flip him upside down and collect the change that falls out of his pockets.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“She’s telling him to mortgage his company to pay for the string quartet. Lindsey’s cried four times. Bryce looks ready to walk. The Washingtons are terrified, and I’m trying to sneak them out through the first floor bathroom