Dad, of course, just sits with his arms crossed, waiting for me. Everyone continues to sit quietly, idly working on making decorations or wrapping gifts, pretending they’re not listening as intently as they are.
I scowl at all of them – even Jackson, who is pretending to be very interested in the perfectly-stacked logs for the fire. Gossip vultures, each and every one. But they all pretend not to notice.
“Ariel,” Dad says, drawing my attention to him. He nods towards the door to the apartment. “Your young man is waiting for you.”
“Dad,” I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “Can you just…be cool?”
“I am always very cool, Ariel,” dad murmurs, smirking and raising an eyebrow at me. “Right, Ella?”
“Not involved, Dominic!” mom calls, her voice light and sing-song.
Dad’s smirk deepens and retu
