The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,127
And after some discussion at the Food Festival with Deanna and Charlie, and more discussion at Margot and Dave’s, the decision was to go.
So on Monday, Izzy called to share we would be there.
And was told our father would be there too.
Neither brother wanted us anywhere near him.
But the day after we found out he’d be there, Toby’s old Chevy was parked in the space beside the house, which had been guest parking until then and that blue Ram was in the garage.
Apparently, he didn’t want to roll up to a meeting where my father would be in an old Chevy or a yellow Ford Focus.
I didn’t care what we drove there in.
He did.
It was a man thing.
So I also kept my mouth shut.
I again kept my mouth shut when I got home the day before and there were three boxes on the dining room table.
“Those’re from Margot,” Toby grunted (incidentally, the “uneasy” to “crabby” scale of Gamble Brothers’ moods deteriorated as Friday got closer).
In one box was a dress from Saks, red, cross body, had a collar that was short on one side but dripped low to a lapel on the other and had long sleeves with deep cuffs. It also had a somewhat low neckline.
It was a feminine, sexy version of a power suit.
The next box was from Neimans, and in it was a wicked cool, zebra print clutch with a handle.
The last box was from Nordstrom, and in it was a pair of shoes with red spike heels, black, ultra-thin straps with little silver balls on the ends that wound around my ankles, and just the toe was covered, mostly with crystal clear plastic with a diamond of zebra print at the toe.
They were sexy as fuck, stylish as hell and totally me.
So the message was clear.
Toby was not rolling up, delivering his woman to the meeting in anything but a badass, expensive truck, and Margot was not allowing me to go in there without armor.
I didn’t fight that either.
It was their way of taking care of family.
She’d tried to do the same thing with Izzy, but surprisingly, Johnny had put his foot down about Iz going to the meeting in some dress that was one of his favorites and the nude Louboutins he’d bought her.
Knock me over with a feather that Johnny would demand to have a say in Izzy’s Estranged Grandma’s Last Will and Testament Reading Outfit.
But it was a big deal to him for some reason.
Margot advised her to do what made Johnny feel less edgy and told her to keep what she’d bought her and just wear it whenever.
I partially understood all of this from a relatively deep perspective, what with Sierra’s joyful visit just fading from memory.
And I was finding I needed to stealthily soothe Toby and tread carefully, rather than the other way around.
Because what I did not understand was what it was like to be a Gamble Brother and know what they knew about what our father did to our mother during their marriage, and what she and her girls endured after it, all this in a time they did not know us and thus could do dick about it.
But it hurt us. It marked us. It hurt our mother. And marked her.
And that was the crux of the situation.
It was highly unlikely our dad was going to pull anything in an attorney’s office.
But honest to Christ, if this was another time, I had no doubt the men would go in wearing steel, immediately throw down a glove, and then swords would be drawn.
This wasn’t caveman shit.
This was something else entirely.
And since I didn’t have a penis or Gamble blood in my veins, I did not entirely understand it.
But I was beginning to understand Toby’s explanation of active and passive protection and the struggle to be passive when they wanted desperately to be active.
They could not walk in there and tear him apart.
And it was driving them crazy.
“Call me the minute you get back on the road,” Margot ordered in my ear after I shared we’d made it to the offices.
Her voice sounded stronger than it had in weeks.
“I will, Margot. Promise.”
“How’s Tobias?”
She was whispering even though Toby couldn’t hear her.
I turned and watched Toby throw his door open so hard it was a wonder it didn’t disconnect and fly across the parking lot.
“Not good,” I whispered back after he’d angled out and slammed it with such force the whole truck shook.