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“Thanks.” A relieved smile spreads over my face.
“I’m back, kiddo.” Remy’s deep rumble sends a shock of fear straight through my stomach. Did he overhear what Juliet and I were talking about? I doubt he’ll find the “premeditated sexcapade” thing as adorable as Juliet did.
“Everything okay at the bar?” I ask.
Remy flops a large pink envelope on the table and waves his hand in the air. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He steps over the bench and sits across from me.
Juliet picks up her cake and stands. “I’m going to find Vapor.” She squeezes my shoulder. “If you need me…”
“Thanks.” I pat her hand and flash a grateful smile.
“What’d you guys talk about?” Remy asks after Juliet leaves.
“Nothing,” I answer too fast. I reach under the table and smooth my dress over my legs.
Remy nudges the pink envelope across the table. “This is for you.”
“Me?” My eyes widen, and I eagerly rip the sealed tab open. Inside, there’s a bunch of papers. “My financial aid forms! Wait.” I stuff them in the envelope. “You went and talked to Dad? When?”
“Couple days ago.” He taps the envelope. “If you need anything else filled out, just tell me. We came to an understanding.”
That doesn’t sound good. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Did he…” Am I really going to let Remy know how pathetic I am? “Did he ask about me?” I ask in a small voice.
Remy’s leg starts bouncing under the table, shaking his whole body. He clenches his jaw. Finally, he blows out a long breath. “Not really,” he answers.
Why do I even care? “Thanks.”
“For?”
“Not lying to me.” I circle one finger in front of him. “The leg bouncing and teeth grinding. You’re pissed. And you were considering lying to me so you wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”
He stares at me in disbelief for a few seconds. “You know me that well, huh?” he asks without his usual humor.
“Thanks for telling me the truth.”
“Dad’s an asshole, Molly. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“I know.”
He jerks his chin. “Take out the other thing in there.”
I slip my hand in the envelope and search until my fingers brush against a small, thick square of paper. I pull it out and stare at the cream business card. “Advanced Hearing Center.” My brows knit together. “Won’t you need their services long before I do?”
“Funny,” he scoffs. “I ran into Mr. Fisher. Grandpa’s hearing aid specialist,” he reminds me.
“Oh! Really? Where?”
“At his office.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He told me once if I ever needed something to let him know.” He spreads his hands in front of him and stares me straight in the eyes. “I told him you’re about to graduate, and you want to go to school to be a hearing aid specialist too.”
I sit straight to absorb what he said. “You did? Why?” It feels weird. Like he exposed my secrets to a stranger or something.
