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“You’re nervous, why?” You can hear it in the tightness of his voice, even over the phone.
“I want to ask you something, is all.” You try to gasp quietly, but you know he’s heard it because he chuckles.
“It’s not that, trust me. Not yet, anyways.” You roll your eyes at yourself, you didn’t really think he’d propose to you after two years. Ok, maybe a little part of you did, but it wasn’t a rational part.
“Then what is it?”
“I was sort of wondering if you want to spend the weekend with me. Uncle Jason lent me the cabin so…you up for it?” you can feel yourself grinning. Your first weekend away? Of course you’re up for it!
“Of course, I’d love to!” after a few blissful seconds, during witch you picture all sorts of interesting things, common sense returns and you feel your happy little bubble begin to deflate.
“It’s just…” you begin.
“You’re busy? It doesn’t have to be this weekend, I’m sure…”
”No, no, it’s not that.”
“What then?”
“My dads.”
“Your dads? They’ve known me forever.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t been dating their daughter forever.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“And I’m sure they’ll shoot you before we can get out of the driveway.” His chuckle is only mildly reassuring.
“It’s cute you think I’m joking.” He only laughs harder.
“Listen, I’m going to ask, but if you’re murdered in your sleep, I want you to know I love you, and we had a good run, and no matter what, I’ll be sure to bring flowers to your grave as often as possible.”
“Love you too, babe. Go ask them and call me back.” With a sigh, you turn to find Clooney in your doorway.
“How do you think I should play this? 1-on-1 or both at the same time?” the dog only rolls over and closes his eyes.
“Well, you’re no help.” You say, scratching behind his ears before heading downstairs.
“Dad?” you get a distracted: “Yeah?” from the den, so you head in there. The first thing you notice is that the den is a mess, books and papers and couch pillows all over the place and in the middle of it all, your dad is on his knees tearing threw a desk drawer.
“Um, I can come back if you’re busy…” you start backing up.
“I know it’s in here…What? Dinner’s almost ready.” You chuckle nervously and start playing with your ponytail, thankful he’s not looking at you. Then you clear your throat nervously.
“Thanks, dad.” And you retreat, like a gutless coward. Returning to your room, you find Clooney in the same place you left him.
“That was an epic fail.” You tell him, and you swear that’s a reproachful look in his eyes.
“I’m going to ask.” The dog remains unconvinced.
“I am!” you say firmly.
“Jellybean, dinner!” you stand and take a deep breath.
“You just watch.” You tell the dog before squaring your shoulders and heading back downstairs.
“Is everything ok, sweetie?”
“What?” you know you’re jumpy the moment you hear your voice.
“You haven’t touched your salad.” You can feel yourself blushing. You didn’t even notice the Greek salad beside your plate.
“I’m fine, pops.” Your insistence is pitiful and both of your fathers put down their cutlery after a minute. You take an extra long time chewing your last bite of pork chop before willing yourself to meet their gaze.
“You’re obviously not fine. What’s up? You know you can talk to us about anything.” Dad says. You nod. You are well aware of that fact.
“It’s just that Jack and I were talking and he asked me if I wanted to spend the long weekend with him at Uncle Jason’s cabin and well…I said yes. Please don’t kill him? Please?” you think Pops is the one who is going to begin with the angry ranting on why you can’t go, but to your surprise, he only ponders what you’ve said for a moment before nodding his approval. You hold your breath as you watch your dad. He doesn’t say anything, he simply continues eating as if you haven’t spoken. You’re about to ask him again, but a small voice says that would be a bad idea. Your Dad rarely gets upset, but when he does, it’s like a volcanic eruption. After dinner, you begin washing the dishes, even though it’s not your night, figuring they want to discuss your request in private. After a few hours, Dad is the one who knocks on your door to say quietly that Yes, you can go.
“Thank you!” and you’re flinging your arms around him. He holds you close for a long moment before dropping a kiss on your forehead. You call Jack back and plans are quickly set in motion.
“You be careful, Jelly bean.” This is said shortly before Jack is to pick you up.
“Pops, please. I’ve been carrying mace since before I knew what it could do and you taught me marshal arts before I could properly walk. We’ll be fine. Besides, you know where we’ll be and I promise to call and check in when we get there.” Before you can get another lecture, the doorbell rings and Dad stands up to answer it. With a jolt, you realize he’s got his gun holstered at his side, prominently on display.
“Pops!” you shriek, pointing.
“He can’t aim straight, Jack’s fine.” Pops only chuckles. Even still, you race to stand with Dad as he opens the door. The first thing Jack notices is the gun. You can tell by the way he gulps and takes a half-step back before collecting himself enough to meet Dad’s eyes. Before you can really tell what’s been said and what threats have only been heavily hinted at, you’re in his car and pulling out of the driveway.
“See? What did I tell you? Everything’s fine.”
“You call being greeted by a gun fine?” you’re incredulous.
“I wasn’t in any real danger, he can’t aim straight.” You can only roll your eyes in exasperation.