of teenage torture. He hadn’t even taken Ruby Jean up on her offer for free seconds.
“I’m paying.” Her father handed his card to Ruby Jean.
“Dad, you don’t have to—” Emma began to say, but he silenced her with a look. Once again, she saw the disappointment in his eyes, thick and heavy.
Her guilt deepened. She hadn’t meant to snap at Angel, but this event for her mom wasn’t any of Angel’s business.
“Well, it was so nice catching up with you two,” Angel said, sliding out of the booth. She wouldn’t meet Emma’s gaze. “We should do it again sometime. And my offer to have you all over for dinner still stands. I know you’re busy, but if you change your mind.”
“Thanks,” Jack said. Then he offered his hand to Emma’s dad to shake.
Her father stared at it, leaving Jack’s hand hanging in midair for a long, tense second. Then he shook it, and Emma suspected her father squeezed the heck out of it in some kind of alpha handshake war. Emma scrutinized Jack’s face as they gripped hands, thinking that he seemed to be suppressing a painful grimace.
“Good night, Dad.” She slid out of the booth and gave him a big hug. It never mattered if they were fighting. She never avoided hugging her dad and giving him a kiss on the cheek, knowing that another opportunity wasn’t promised.
“We’ll talk later,” he said, pulling away, warmness returning to his eyes.
She nodded. Then she faced Angel. “Good night, Angel.” She mustered a smile but not a hug. Never a hug. And after all these years, Angel knew better than to try to initiate one.
Angel was pretty good at hugging with her eyes though. She was like a puppy, back in good spirits despite how Emma had treated her. And that somehow made things worse. “My other offer stands too. Let me know if you need any help planning this event of yours. I want you to know that I loved your mom. I would never have done anything to hurt her. And neither would your dad. She was a special woman,” she said before turning to leave.
Emma sighed deeply as she sat back down in the booth and watched her dad and Angel exit the restaurant. “That was…”
“Awful,” Jack said, finishing her sentence and reading her mind.
“What was all that about?” Sam asked. His plate was completely clear.
Emma shrugged. “A dysfunctional family is a normal family,” she told him.
Jack chuckled, looking a lot more relaxed now that her dad and Angel had left. “I guess we’re normal, then, huh, Sam?”
Sam gave a half grin, his bangs falling in front of his eyes just a touch. “My mom has called me like ten times a day since you picked me up. She needed time away, but she won’t leave me alone. I’d say that’s dysfunctional. So yeah, normal.”
“That’s what mothers do, bud,” Jack told him. “She wants to make sure you’re okay and I’m not falling down on the job. So what do you think? Am I doing an okay job so far?”
Sam peered at his uncle through his bangs. “I guess. It’s not your fault that your job is kind of boring.”
Jack scoffed while Emma giggled beside him.
“You know, Sam, you could divide your time and help me at the café a little too. I need some part-time help. The café is busier during the summer months, starting tomorrow. The Fourth of July is one of my busiest days of the summer.”
Sam pushed his hair out of his eyes. “A job?”
“Yep. I’d put you on the payroll and everything. And you eat for free if you work at the café. An added bonus is that there are lots of girls that come in.” What teen didn’t feel better at the prospect of food and girls? “That is, if your uncle Jack can spare you for a couple days a week.” Emma looked over at Jack.
“You sure?” he asked, surprise playing in his expression. And something else. Maybe gratitude.
Emma lifted a shoulder. “I have an event to coordinate, so extra help at the café will be a godsend.”
Jack looked at Sam. “It’s up to you, buddy. What do you think?”
Sam offered a full grin. “She’s paying in money and food. That’s a way better offer than what you gave me.”
Jack’s mouth fell open, and both Emma and Sam burst into laughter. “I pay in free rent and food.”
“Except your fridge is always empty.” Sam looked at Emma’s half-eaten burger. “You’re really not