“Remember that motorcycle I had when you were eight?”
“Oh my god, he did not send you a motorcycle!”
“We'll have to take a ride on it when you come down.”
“No. This is not happening. I'm going to tell him to take it back.”
“You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead, fingers first. You don't have to ride on it – he had the car fixed, too.”
“Dad,” she took a deep breath. “You're over fifty. You're glasses are basically coke bottles. You should not ever be on a motorcycle.”
“You underestimate your old man. It's like riding a bike. Get it? A bike,” he laughed at his own joke.
“I'm really not okay with this, Dad. I don't like the idea of you cruising down the freeway on a motorcycle,” she whined, using her little girl voice that usually got her anything.
“Relax, sweetie. I've only ridden it twice, around the block. It's sitting in the garage under a cover right now,” he assured her.
“Good. Good, okay, thank you. He shouldn't have done that. Why would he do that!?” she groaned, rubbing her hand across her forehead.
“Well, I think he felt bad, too.”
“He could try saying he's sorry!”
“Maybe that just is his way of saying sorry. Not everyone operates the same way you do. Wulf's always been special, I always found it was best to let him do things his way. Box him in, and he just gets resentful.”
Hmmm, I get the feeling we're not talking about expensive gifts anymore.
“Dad, what are you trying to say?”
“I'm trying to say that Thanksgiving isn't too far away, and we would love it if you brought a date – but only one date.”
“And you want my date to be the kind of guy who gifts motorcycles,” she grumbled.
“No, I want your date to be the kind of guy who treats you right and you like,” her dad countered. “I know those two boys are twisting you up inside. I want you to figure out what it is you want, and just go for it. I like motorcycles, sweetie, but I also love weekends at the beach and learning how to surf. Or hey, even just spending a holiday alone with my baby girl.”
Katya sighed and leaned against the counter.
“Thanks, Dad. I mean it. What you think … it means a lot to me. Thank you for being understanding. I know none of this is what you'd like for me,” she said in a soft voice.
“Of course not. I wanted you to be a doctor.”
“Daddy!”
“Gotta go, sweetie. Mr. Tunt across the street wants me to race against his Harley.”
“Please tell me you're joking, I don't want -”
“Love you lots.”
“Love you, too.”
And then her dad was gone. Katya frowned and started moving around again when Tori wandered into the kitchen. They worked together to put the meal on the table and laughed and talked through the night, but her mind was always halfway thinking about her conversation with her father. When she'd gone home with Wulf a month or so ago, her mom had impressed her with how understanding she was about the whole two men situation. Now her dad was blowing her away with his level of understanding.
Jesus, maybe I'm the one who isn't very understanding.
Katya knew she was stalling. It was so easy to say, or even think, just make a choice. Wulfric, or Liam. Or hell, neither. It just wasn't that simple, though. If it was, she already would've made the decision.
Starting out, she'd had the strongest emotional connection to Wulf – an almost physical pull on her soul, tying her to him. But he'd ruined it and damaged that connection. It wasn't as electrical as it used to be, she didn't trust him, so she kept pushing away any potential feelings for him. How could she choose him? And worse, if she didn't choose him, was she prepared to never see him again? Because she was pretty sure he wouldn't be interested in “staying friends” afterwards.
Her bond with Liam had been different, and maybe even stronger in some ways. She'd seen him almost every day. He made her laugh and feel good about herself, but back then, there hadn't been that spark. She'd never even contemplated it, because she'd been focused on Wulf. Now, though, things were different – he was putting in the effort, apologizing and trying. Making her feel special. Was she willing to lose that kind of special person if she chose Wulf?
Maybe I should be alone – this is a stupid problem to have.
Just to complicate things more, Liam showed up around ten o'clock with a bottle of champagne. The three of them dove into the lemon soufflé Katya had made for dessert, a sort of specialty of hers that she didn't the opportunity to make too often.
Tori surprised them all by begging off early, cracking jokes about having to go to work early for her ball busting boss. Liam chuckled, but after she'd gone into her room, he mentioned to Katya that Tori didn't need to be at work till two in the afternoon.
“I wonder why she's going to bed so early?” Katya mumbled as she followed Liam up the stairs.
“Maybe she has a boyfriend,” he suggested, fumbling with the keys to the rooftop door.
“What, hiding in her room?” Katya laughed, hugging a blanket tight to her chest as he opened the door.
“Maybe. Tied up in her closet,” he joked, leading the way to the worn loveseat. They skirted the kiddie pool he'd brought up there so many weeks ago. All the water had long since evaporated.
“Ooohhh, maybe an online boyfriend!” Katya gasped. It was possible. Right out of high school, Tori had driven clear to San Diego for some guy she'd met through a chat room.
“I hope not. She's too good for that,” Liam said, holding out a hand.
She handed off the blanket and they both sat down, rearranging the fluffy blanket around them. When she was settled back into the cushions next to him, he set a plastic bag on his lap and pulled out a bottle of wine and a box of desserts. She laughed and grabbed the box.
“What are these?” she asked.
“You've never had a Choco Taco!?” he gasped, staring down at her.
“No. No, I have not.”
“Oh my god, they're amazing. Ice cream and chocolate and cone. I figure you're always making stuff for all of us, I should try to do something. But I can't bake for shit,” he laughed, opening the box for her and pulling out one of the treats.
“It just takes practice. Holy shit, these are good,” she commented after she'd taken a bite.
“I know. Also, I forgot to grab glasses.”
The wine was screw top, at least, so they took turns passing it back and forth, drinking straight from the bottle. They both ate their desserts, Liam polishing off four before coming to a stop.
“Where do you put it all?” she asked, looking over his body when he finally leaned back in to the couch. “You're so trim.”
“I know, right? Always been this way. Can pretty much eat whatever I want.”
“Lucky.”
“Says miss skinny minny. You're like a bird. A tall, skinny, bird,” he said.
“I think you just compared me to an ostrich,” she laughed.
“Nah. Your butt's not big enough.”
“And I can't eat whatever I want. Notice I almost never eat my own desserts? I gained forty pounds while I was in school. I learned real quick to never eat as I baked,” she laughed.