“So, Brandon, Emily tells us that you play for the Sharks.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“How long have you been in the NFL?”
“This will be my thirteenth season.”
“You’ve always played with the Sharks?” As a sports fan, Mark Hamilton would know the answer to his questions. Emily wished she knew why he was asking them.
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
“Do you have plans for what you’ll do when you decide to retire from professional football?”
Brandon sat forward, and rested his forearms on his thighs. “I’ve spent a lot of time over the past three off-seasons working on my future. I initially thought I’d like to go into coaching, but I am interested in having a wife and a family. The work hours of most coaches aren’t compatible with family life.”
Mark’s eyebrows shot up.
Brandon continued. “I did some color and game analysis during the preseason last year, and according to my agent, the network’s interested. I’m pursuing this, and we’ve had preliminary contract talks. I’ve been working with other announcers to prepare as well. It’s what I plan on doing.”
Emily’s father nodded. “Where’d you go to college again?”
“I went to LSU, majoring in mathematics. I graduated with my class.” This was impressive. Brandon explained to Emily previously that many football players either didn’t graduate from college, or graduated years after their class was gone. “I also hold a Master’s in math from the University of Washington.”
Emily broke in. “You didn’t want to teach?”
“I enjoyed the studying, sugar.”
Her father leaned forward in his chair as well, but his wasn’t the relaxed, easy pose Brandon exhibited. He braced himself as if he would spring from the chair at any moment.
“Brandon, I’m not going to play games with you. Mrs. Hamilton and I aren’t happy with how this engagement came about, and I notice that my daughter is still wearing your ring. Would you mind sharing with me what it is you thought was going to happen here?”
“Dad—”
“Emily, maybe it would be best if you went to help your mother in the kitchen for a few minutes,” her father said.
“I’m not a child.”
“You’re still my daughter, and I need to talk with Brandon privately. He’ll see you in a few minutes.” Her father’s voice was stern. He wasn’t relenting.
Emily got to her feet, leaving the room. She heard her father’s voice rising and falling as she walked through the house, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. Her mother glanced up in surprise as she entered the kitchen.
“What are you doing here, honey? I thought you were visiting with Daddy. Where’s Brandon?”
“Dad’s raking him over the coals. He said I had to leave.”
“He just wants to get to know him.”
“That’s not what’s happening right now. He made that clear enough.” Emily paused by the kitchen table. “Would you like some help?”
“Everything’s almost done. Maybe you could put the garlic bread in the breadbasket and take it out to the table.” Her mother bustled around the kitchen. She didn’t meet Emily’s eyes. Emily reached out and caught her hand.
“Mom, are you still mad?” Emily felt her chin wobble. “I’m sorry about what I said. It was—it was awful. I know you and Dad are disappointed.”
Her mother reached out to stroke Emily’s cheek. “Honey, I can’t stay mad at you.” She took a deep breath. “Your friend seems nice. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“Why?” The timer on the stove went off.
“We can talk about it later. Let’s carry the rest of the food into the dining room.” Her mother poked her head into the family room. “Dinner’s ready.”
Emily’s father still looked like a thundercloud. Brandon squeezed her hand and said in a low voice, “Things are fine, sugar.”
“I’m worried.”
“Smile for me.” His palm was warm and comforting on the small of her back.
At the table, Brandon pulled the chair out for her, settled her into it, and held the chair for Emily’s mother as she sat down. This earned him another less-than-happy look from Emily’s father. Meg smiled at him and said, “Thank you, Brandon.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. Dinner smells delicious.”
“I hope it’ll taste delicious, too. Would you like some lasagna?”
“Yes, please.”
Her mother appeared somewhat bewildered by Brandon’s impeccable table manners. Her father must have thought it was some kind of act. Emily wondered if they thought he would throw food or something.
Her dad got up from his chair and left the room. He returned with Brandon’s bottle of wine, still frowning.
“I almost forgot about this. Meg, would you like some of this with dinner?”
“Yes,” Emily’s mother said. “It was thoughtful of Brandon to bring such a nice gift.”
She was flirting with him now. The friendlier Emily’s mother got, the more her father’s expression soured.
“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Hamilton. I’m glad you like it.” Brandon gave Emily an almost imperceptible wink. He was workin’ it.
“So, honey, you and Brandon are staying engaged?” her mother asked.
Emily had a mouthful of lasagna. She glanced across the table at Brandon and nodded in response.
“Brandon, if you don’t mind my asking, how do your mom and dad feel about this?” Meg Hamilton sipped her wine. Her ex-husband’s lips formed a thin line of disapproval.
“They were unhappy with me.” The twinkle in Brandon’s eyes was gone. “I’d also like to say that, while this did not start well, it has been my pleasure to spend time with Emily, and I’d like to keep doing so if she’ll have me.” He and Emily’s eyes met across the table.
“I’m not happy with your beginning any relationship with a lie, and frankly, Brandon, this reinforces what I’ve heard and read about you,” her father told him.
“Dad,” Emily pleaded.
Brandon gave her a slight head shake. He sat up in his chair and squared his shoulders. “Sir, I’ll have to prove I’m not that person.” The men sized each other up. It was like two bulls pawing and snorting before the inevitable clash.
“Mark,” Meg interrupted, but Mark was on a roll.
“Our family sacrificed so Emily could have the success she enjoys. Once she was out of the conservatory and performing with opera companies, she made her own luck, but at the same time, the cost was enormous, not just financially, and not just on Emily, but on everyone in the family.”
Emily’s bite of lasagna turned to sawdust in her mouth. Her dad’s insistence on bringing up their family problems in front of Brandon was humiliating.
Her father continued. “I worked two jobs for years. My wife worked. When we weren’t working, we were taking Emily to voice lessons and dance lessons till she was old enough to get herself there.” His eyes narrowed. “Our daughter’s not throwing her career away because you think it’ll be fun to play house with her, or because you’d like the publicity. There was no other way you could possibly get yourself in the paper?”
Emily’s mouth dropped open in horror. “I’m as responsible for this as Brandon is. My name was in the paper, too,” she blurted out. Brandon shook his head at her again, but she couldn’t remain quiet. “And I am not ‘throwing away’ my career. Maybe we should talk about how much my bookings have taken off since this all happened.”
“Mark, we’re at the table. This isn’t the time,” her mother said.
“Yes, it is. This needs to stop, right now. You’re not continuing a sham engagement for Brandon’s convenience,” Emily’s father told her. “I won’t stand by and watch your career blow up in a huge scandal.”
“It wasn’t all his idea. It’s helping me, too,” Emily said. “I just said my bookings are up.”
Meg Hamilton was white-faced and silent.
“For the record, I’ve offered to repay you and Mom over and over for the lessons and my schooling. You keep saying no. We’ve both told you that this was our decision, and Brandon apologized. What more do you want?” Emily said.
“It’s not the money,” her father ground out.
“Then why bring it up?” Emily asked.
“Sir, this seems to be a painful subject. Maybe we could talk some more about it later,” Brandon said.
“There won’t be any more discussion. My mind is made up.” Mark glanced over at his daughter. “As an adult, you are free to make your own decisions, but I want you to know I don’t agree, and I won’t support this choice.”
Emily sat silently for a few minutes. She knew all families fought, but their arguments never seemed to have a resolution. She loved her dad, but he never tried to understand how she felt about a situation or see her point of view. She’d had a fairly shocking revelation between bites of her mother’s lasagna: She didn’t want their “engagement” to end, no matter what her father thought about the subject. She and Brandon’s slowly growing relationship deserved a chance to thrive.
Emily tossed her napkin on the table, pushed her chair back, and got to her feet.
“Mom, thank you for the delicious dinner,” she said, despite eating only a few bites. “Dad, excuse us.”
“Sit down and finish your dinner,” her father said.
Brandon got up from his chair, rounded the table, and took her arm. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes. Mom, I’ll talk with you later.”
“Honey, please stay.”
“No, thank you.” She hauled breath into her lungs. Showing her anger, frustration and embarrassment was out of the question right now. “No matter how you feel about my choices, you’re right. I’m an adult. I’m capable of making my own way, and I have been for a long time now.” She looked into her father’s eyes. “Thank you for supporting me for so long. I love you both very much, but I can take it from here. Brandon’s my guest. Even more, he’s—he’s my friend. I’m choosing to be with him, and I don’t understand why you’re treating him so rudely.”
“Maybe we should talk about this some more,” Meg said.
“No, Mom. Dad’s done talking right now, and so am I.”
Emily hurried out of the dining room without waiting for an answer. She snatched up her handbag from the hall table, flung open the front door, and stumbled down the porch stairs. Brandon was right behind her.
“Emily,” her mother called out.
Emily heard the chirp of the locks as Brandon’s car doors disengaged. She wrenched the passenger door open and turned to look back at her mother.
“Don’t leave like this,” Meg pleaded. She stood on the sidewalk only feet away from them. She clasped her hands in front of her.
“Mom, I love you a lot, but we need to go.”
Meg extended her hand to Brandon. “It was nice to meet you.”
“It was nice to meet you, too, ma’am. I apologize for leaving such a delicious dinner.” He thought for a moment. “I hope we’ll meet again under better circumstances.”
A surprised expression crossed her mother’s face, but she said, “Yes, that would be nice.” She turned and went back into the house.
BRANDON FOUND A parking spot a couple of blocks away and pulled into it. He turned toward Emily. She wrapped her arms around herself like she was attempting to keep her organs inside. She felt terrible, but she felt even worse for Brandon. He didn’t ask for this.
“I’m so sorry,” Emily gasped. “I can’t believe my dad acted like that. Does he think I’m not old enough to make my own decisions? Why does he . . . I’m sorry.”
“Come here. We’ll be fine.” His arms slid around Emily. She felt him, warm and solid against her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“It was awful. I am so embarrassed.”
“Shh,” he comforted.
“Aren’t you mad?”
“I don’t like the fact your dad upset you like this.” He kissed her forehead. “We will work this out. I want to keep seeing you, so I need to make peace with him.”
“I am as responsible as you are. Why can’t he see this? I . . .” Her voice trailed off as he cupped her face in one hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She remembered she had pulled him away from an entire plate of food, too. “You’re probably still hungry.”
He looked somewhat amused. “Let’s go grab a bite. We’ll go for a walk at Marina Park later.”
“Baby, I still—”
“No more apologizing. Everything’s going to be fine.” His dimple flashed as his lips curved into a dazzling smile. “So, I’m your pal.” He sat back in his seat, but he didn’t let go of her hand.
She lifted a brow. “Maybe.”
“Maybe Katie’s at the park today, too.”
He shifted the car into gear and drove away, but not before Emily saw gratitude in his eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE enjoyed the sunny spring afternoon in Kirkland’s Marina Park. Boats zipped by on the lake; kids ran and played on the beach while their parents relaxed on blankets spread over the grass. Brandon and Emily were shown to a table at The Slip, a small restaurant overlooking the park. Brandon reached across the table for her hand after drinks and food were ordered.
“Listen,” he said. “We need to talk about something.”
“You keep using that phrase,” she said. “Doesn’t ‘we need to talk’ usually mean bad news?”
She saw him hide a smile while pretending to rub his nose. “Gotcha.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not mad at your dad, because he’s telling the truth. I’d be the same way if it was my daughter.”
Emily shook her head vigorously. “You would not.”
“Oh, yes, I would. My little girl isn’t dating till she’s thirty.” Emily rolled her eyes. Brandon grinned back at her. “No matter how old you are, you’re still his little girl, too. He remembers you with pigtails and no front teeth, sugar. He doesn’t want anyone to hurt you, and he certainly isn’t sure about some guy who ended up engaged to his daughter less than twenty-four hours after they met.” He took a swallow of his pint of beer. “I’ll invite him out to lunch.”
“He’ll tell you no.”
“I think you’ll be surprised.” He pulled the smart phone from his pocket. “May I have your dad’s phone number?”
“I don’t think this is a good idea—”
“I need the number,” he said.
Emily reached out for his phone, keyed the number in, and handed it back to him. “All you have to do is hit ‘Send.’”
Brandon held the phone to his ear.
“Mr. Hamilton, it’s Brandon McKenna. I would like to have lunch with you this week. How does Tuesday sound?” Emily couldn’t hear her dad’s response, but Brandon said, “I’ll meet you at a restaurant by your office. How about the Metropolitan Grill at noon?” After a bit more conversation, Brandon said, “Great. I’ll look forward to it. See you at noon on Tuesday.” He punched a button to end the call.
Emily regarded him in shock. “How did you manage that?”
Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Your dad doesn’t want to lose his daughter. He also wants to know that I’m a man, not a boy.”
“Maybe you could explain that, too.”
“If I don’t have the balls to face him, you shouldn’t be with me. Eat up, sugar, or you won’t get any dessert.”
It sounded like Attack of the Alpha Males. Brandon convinced her father to have lunch with him. Then again, Emily’s dad wouldn’t stage a DEFCON-1 freak-out in one of Seattle’s most exclusive restaurants.
AFTER THEIR MEAL, they walked hand-in-hand to the same bench they always sat on during visits to the park.
“I don’t see Katie today,” Brandon said.
“Maybe her mom and dad took her somewhere else.”
“Could be. But, hey, we need to discus
s something else your dad mentioned. My mama wants to know when the wedding is. She says her friends are driving her nuts about it.”
Emily swiveled to look at him in disbelief. “We can’t pick a date.” It was one thing to have a fake engagement. A fake wedding date? Now, that was taking things a bit too far.
“It’s obviously a problem for your dad. Plus, I think we should set a date,” he persisted.
“I thought we said we’d see how things went. I don’t understand why you’re changing the rules.”
“Listen,” he said patiently, “Engaged people typically pick a wedding date. There’s only so long we can avoid it.” He wrapped his arm around the back of the bench and stretched his legs out in front of him. He seemed perfectly relaxed. She was a bundle of emotions: surprised, shocked, and more than a bit scared.
“This is crazy.” Emily said.
“We need a date. Pick one.”
“You’ve decided this is real now.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Maybe.”
The ring on the third finger of Emily’s left hand felt like the weight of the world. Most women waited their whole lives for this moment. Obviously, there was something wrong with her.
Her feelings for him grew every day. He was the first person she ran to now when she wanted to talk or she needed encouragement. Even when they sat on the couch and said nothing to each other, his presence was enough. He made her laugh. She missed him desperately when they were away from each other. Maybe it was shallow, but if they weren’t in public, she’d want to push him down and jump on him. Then again, she wanted to push him down and jump on him anyway.
She wondered how shocked he’d be if she actually did it. James made it clear so many times he didn’t welcome Emily’s displays of affection toward him, and she worried Brandon would think she was aggressive, too. Then again, he never shrank from her touch.
Maybe she should start off small.
Brandon squeezed her shoulder with one big hand. “Hey, where’d my fiancée go? I could have sworn I was just talking to her.”
“I’m still here.”
Blitzing Emily Page 17