Page 49 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“No,” I shake a finger. “I still think we can save this marriage. But I’m also not naïve, and I don’t want you to be either. Which is why I want you to protect yourself legally in the event that Mike is irrational and tries to screw you over.”

Ashley sighs, melting into the couch. “I don’t know any lawyers,” she says, but I just smile.

“That’s okay,” I tell her. “Because I do. And he’s the best.”

I get up and grab my purse. Then I pull out a business card and hand it to her.

“Grant Bowen,” she reads. “Have you used him before?”

“Not technically, no,” I answer.

“Then how do you know he’s the best?” She asks, still staring at the card.

My smile widens. “Because he’s, my dad.”

Chapter 20

Quinn

“I’m sorry,do I know you? You look vaguely familiar…”

My mouth twists and my eyes deadpan. “Are you for real right now?”

“It’s something with your eyes. No, the blonde hair. No, that’s not it either. I know, it’s the sass. I know that sass.”

“Very funny, Dad,” I say as I set my things down on the entryway table in his foyer and make my way over to him, my heels clacking on the cherry flooring as I go.

My dad grins and pulls me into a warm, tight hug that smells the way it always has. Woody. Fresh. Dry cleaned. “How are you, Lovebug?” he asks while still holding me. It’s a nickname he gave me ages ago, and while I used to hate it, I’ve grown to find it endearing in recent years.

“I’m good,” I tell him.

“Work going well?” he asks, pulling away from me. I follow him into the kitchen, where he stops at the fridge to pull out a pitcher of sangria. Then from there, we go onto the back porch, and thesmell of grilled steaks wafts through the air, and my stomach growls. There’s something about being with your parents that reminds you of things like this. Well, being with my dad, that is. My mom isn’t here, obviously. Life is crazy and busy and always full of things that need your attention, but also, homemade sangria hits the spot when it’s still not Friday but you really need something. And that you need to eat. Eating is important.

“Yes,” I tell him, as I brush my hair back and lean against the bricks with my sangria in hand. “I have a new client,” I say.

“Oh?” he asks, turning the steaks over and closing the grill again. “Any chance her name is Ashley?”

“Yes,” I light up. “She called you already?” I ask.

“She called me at one in the morning,” he chuckles.

“Oh, wow,” I say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”

“I’m taking her case,” I say.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I tell him. “I’m sure you’ve already got a lot going on, but she…she loves him. And I really, really want it to work out for them for some reason.”

“You want every marriage to work out,” he teases.

“And you don’t?” I ask, and we both laugh.

“I guess we are both guilty of being romantics,” he says as he takes the steaks off the grill. We take them inside and add salad to the plates and sit at the table together, just my dad and me. Just like the old days.

“I just…” I start in, pushing a crouton around with my fork. “I want people to believe in love. The kind of love that you can depend on. That makes the hard things in life not matter. Thekind of love…” I trail off, afraid to say the words because my throat is already tight.

“That your mother and I had…” he finishes for me. Not caring if his eyes are teary or his throat is tight (which I can audibly hear) because he’s a defense lawyer, but he’s also a romantic. He’s interested in the facts, but leads with compassion. Because he’s my dad, and honestly, he’s the reason I am the way I am.

“I miss her,” he tacks on, and I nearly choke on my sangria.