Her Gentle Gangster by Carolyn Faulkner
Chapter Twelve
Michael
“Well, Mom and Dad,”Diana says, arms crossed, an amused look on her face, “At least they didn’t ruin your vacation.”
Cara glowers at her sister, but it’s Chloe—attending the Williams family meeting via FaceTime from Warwickshire—who reins in the middle child. “Diana. Let’s just hear what they have to say. After all, Cara’s not the first person to fall for an older gentleman.”
“Don’t remind me,” Cecily says, shuddering in her armchair in the Williams’ three-season porch. Apparently, this serene deck with its pretty wicker furniture surrounded by soothing greenery and bird feeders is where the Williams all prefer to go when they need to hash out complex subjects. Or extremely awkward ones, such as best friends proposing marriage to daughters half their age.
Cecily being the youngest and the most outspoken, I’m not surprised by her reaction. Diana has been aware of Cara’s crush for years. Cherise is oddly quiet and sits on her hands, making eye contact with no one, instead focusing on some hummingbirds buzzing around.
As for the opinions that count the most—that of Corrina and Bill—I just have to wait.
After Cara had requested the family meeting, I thought it best to be as straightforward as possible.
“I love your daughter, and we’re going to be married. As soon as possible,” I’d said at the outset.
Bill and Corrina have been sitting there together on the floral-cushioned wicker love seat in stunned silence for the better part of five minutes while their five girls talk at each other.
“Cecily,” Chloe warns, pausing to let Cara point the camera in Cecily’s direction. “I thought you’d come around on the idea that age is just a number.”
The baby of the family goggles at her oldest, married, and pregnant sister. “No, you all decided we were all fine with this, and I was told I would warm up to the situation. Well, I haven’t.”
“Cecily, you’re going to be an auntie in less than a month.”
Cecily throws up her hands and shouts, “I’m twenty-one! I’m too young to be an aunt!”
Cara cuts in. “Why? Mom and Dad had Chloe when they were 19 and 20.”
Cecily wretches. “I’m not super cool with that idea, either.”
“Maybe not,” Cara says, “But you do recognize the fact that they are much younger than most of our friends’ parents. Twenty years’ difference is not that significant.”
Diana scoffs, “Maybe Cecily is just horrified because it seems like gold-digging is starting to run in the family.”
“Hey!” Chloe shouts over the phone.
“Stop it, that’s not helpful,” Corrina says over Chloe’s shouts. And in the next moment, the entire meeting has devolved into shouting and name-calling and arguing.
Bill still looks stunned and silent. Finally, I catch his eye, but his expression is unreadable.
Finally, it’s Cara—sweet, soft-spoken, innocent Cara—who commands the room. “Everyone shut up!”
Surprised, everyone quiets down and gives Cara the floor.
“I know this is uncomfortable considering Michael’s friendship with Dad. And Dad, I know this is a shock, and you might even feel betrayed. But I want you to promise me you won’t take it out on Michael. I…well, Diana already knows this, but I’ve had a crush on Michael forever. He never once—never—looked or said or did anything inappropriate with me. Not ever. We hadn’t seen each other in four years, and then we ran into each other on Saturday. And to be honest, I instigated things.”
“What do you mean, instigated?” Corrina questions.
Cara juts out one sassy hip and says, “Mother, I seduced him. So if you’re angry with anyone, be angry with me.”
Corrina blows out a breath and slumps back into the seat cushions, processing.
“Bill,” I say. “I’m going to need you to say something. Anything.”
Bill stands and says, “I need a drink for this,” and leaves the room.
I follow him and leave the Williams women to hash things out among themselves.
When I arrive in the kitchen, Bill is halfway through a can of beer, and I don’t begrudge him not offering one to me.
Having grabbed a second can for himself, he slams the fridge door and glares at me.
“You want to hit me? I’d prefer you hit me instead of silence.”
Bill swallows his gulp of beer and says, “I heard you’re subsidizing the entire special education department.”
I clarify, “The pre-K section, but yeah. Sort of.”
“Why? To impress my daughter? To give my daughter permission to go after her dad’s best friend?”
I shake my head no. “Because whatever she loves, I love. Because whatever Cara’s passionate about, I’m passionate about.”
“No disrespect, but you’ve never been passionate about anything except building skyscrapers and making money.”
“Is that what you think of me?”
“No. That was the anger talking,” Bill says, taking another sip of beer. “But we’re all going to need a minute. Can you give us that?”
“Anything you need, I’m there. Cara cares about your opinion more than anyone else’s, and I want to make sure, even if we’re not friends anymore, that you can continue to have a relationship with your daughter.”
Bill taps the bottle against his bottom lip, then says, “You do realize how this is very different from Chloe and Phillip? Even though he’s even older than you?”
“I do,” I say, hoping against hope that I’ll get to hold on to the essential people in my world: Cara and her parents.
Finally, Bill crosses to me and holds out his hand to shake mine. I heave a sigh of relief. “This isn’t my blessing. This is just me letting you know I’ll be okay, eventually. A pre-blessing.”
Dammit, why is my face wet? All I can do is wipe my stupid eyes on my stupid shirt sleeve and thank him.
“What else did he say?”
My Cara and I stroll down Hunter Drive at dusk, going over the events of the evening. The sun sets over the golf course in the distance, and teenagers are out walking their dogs. Even I have to admit; this can be a nice neighborhood. Sometimes.
“That’s it. He just needs time,” I say.
Cara presses me, wanting to know the exact wording, facial expressions, body language, and tone. And I tell her everything I can remember.
“You’re killing me, Mr. Brennan,” she laughs.
“Remind me to get better at observing people if this is how conversations are going to go for the rest of our lives together.”
She stops in front of the Hurleys’ yard and presses against me, weaving her fingers through mine. “I hope that doesn’t make you sad.”
I squeeze her fingers. “What are you talking about?”
“The rest of our lives. If I have a baby, you’ll be in your sixties when they graduate high school.”
I pull her tighter against me, aware this is the first time we’ve shown public affection, apart from groping each other in my doorway, of course. We’re probably going to have to get used to people staring at us.
“Weren’t you the one who told me to stop doing the math and just be happy?” I remind her.
“I am happy,” she says. “Unless this is an elaborate roleplay in which you’ve enlisted my family, so if that’s the case….”
Her face is too close and too anxious for me not to hush her up with my kiss. Grabbing her tight to me without a care in the world, I claim my bride’s mouth with mine. My bride that I’m going to get pregnant tonight if I have anything to say about it.
Bill might need time, but as far as I’m concerned, I can’t start living my authentic life soon enough.
As we kiss, we’re both suddenly surprised as the Hurleys’ lawn sprinklers pop up and start spurting cold water all over us.
Shrieking and laughing, Cara tries to dash off to my house—or our house, as I see it. But I pull her back to me and lift her feet off the sidewalk in another deep, mind-melding kiss. She sighs against me, and when we pull away, we’re both soaked to the skin.
My Cara has a wicked look in her eye and tugs me toward the grass.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching her let go of me to run circles around the sprinklers, jumping and dancing in the water.
“Uh, it’s not that kind of sprinkler,” I say, noting how I’m going to have to pay for the Hurleys to re-lay that fresh sod she’s trampling right now.
“Come on, don’t be such a fussy old lady,” she calls. Her white dress is completely soaked through, and the peepshow is too much for public consumption. Just then, Mrs. Hurley steps outside to inspect the current commotion.
“Ah, fuck it,” I say and join my wife. I hold her in my arms as we twirl through the water, laughing, snorting, and getting completely soaked.
“I love you, Mrs. Brennan,” I say.
“I know!” Cara shouts, then turns to Mrs. Hurley. “Did you hear that? Mr. Brennan loves me, and I love him! Isn’t it wonderful?”
Mrs. Hurley splutters, then pulls out her phone to call…who, I wonder? Security?
Her door slams as she goes back inside the house, and Cara turns to me. “You know, we might have to move,” she says.
“One hundred percent,” I say in agreement. “Anywhere, as long as you’re with me.”
About the Author
Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.
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