“You should eat.” She grabs her still full plate and walks to the sink, throwing it out. “I’m going to get in the shower.” I want to go after her, but how do I do that without telling her how I feel? I get up and grab my phone from the coffee table. I send Jacob a text.

Me: Family meeting at the mayor’s office.

He answers right away.

Jacob: Do you need backup?

Me: Not sure, but you’ll be the first one I call.

Jacob: I’ll be here.

When she comes out of the bathroom wearing her jean shorts and a white tank top, I’m just putting my dish in the dishwasher. “Can I borrow your car?” I ask. “I can come back after so you can go to work.”

“That’s okay. I can get a ride to the bar,” she says. My stomach burns with nerves. “Will you call me?”

“As soon as I can,” I say, and she hands me the keys to her truck. “Don’t worry, nothing is going to touch you.” Reassuring her, I lean in and kiss her cheek, but it’s very close to her lips, which is where I really want to kiss her. When I walk out of the house, the sun is high in the sky, and the heat is starting to fill the air. I make my way over to my new office in Savannah’s truck, and when I pull up, I see that my father and brother are already there. I get out of the truck and walk up the steps to the front door. When I walk into the house, the cool air hits me right away, and I look over at my new secretary. Well, the secretary I inherited from my father.

“Morning, Mayor,” Bonnie says and smiles at me. She must be in her early thirties, and she looks like a debutante for sure. Southern to a T with her hair curled perfectly and her nails an acceptable length with a nude color on them. “Your father and brother are already in there. Would you like coffee?”

“No, thank you,” I say as I walk to the office door and open it. Stepping into the room, I see that my brother is wearing khaki pants with a white polo and a khaki jacket. He even looks like a douche sitting there on the couch. I see a tumbler in his hand already, and I have no doubt it’s not his first drink this morning.

He turns his head to look at me. “Nice of you to show up,” he sneers and takes a sip of his drink. Looking toward my desk, I find my father sitting behind it. At one time, I wanted to be like my father because I thought he was the perfect father.