“Scott Abrams has some genius sayings.” Joey caught a whiff of the Thomas Jefferson cologne they’d gotten him for his birthday. Past gifts had established that her father went gaga over anything bearing his idol’s name, but the lesson had since been learned—Joey should have smelled the cologne before gifting it. The scent was what she imagined was the smell of old English people returning to their musty castles after skeet shooting in the moors.

Her father fiddled with his wedding ring. Joey bit her lip, trying to push what she knew from her mind. He was going to be devastated—wrecked—and there was nothing Joey could do to prevent it.

“Yes, well, Joey.”

“Moving on?”

“Moving on. I want to say something to you. You know, your mother didn’t get to have her dream wedding, not really.”

“What do you mean? I’ve seen the pictures. You had a beautiful wedding.”

“Well, I don’t want to spoil any romantic notions you have, but I think you’re old enough to know. You see…” Her father’s face turned the color of the red Montblanc pen he was twirling in his fingers.

“Mom was pregnant at the wedding.”

Her father’s mouth gaped open. “How did you know?”

“Dad, if you count the months till I was born, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out.”

It took a few moments for her father to regain composure. “Okay. We were a modern couple. It’s not why we got married, for the record. I loved your mother very much. I still do, of course. I would have married her anytime, anywhere, regardless of you on the way or not. But her parents were old-fashioned. We had to get married quickly, before they suspected. So it was a wedding on the rush. Your mother always wanted us to do this dance to a flamenco band at our wedding. They played at a dive bar we used to go to. But they were going to Mexico that weekend to play at a quinceañera so we had a troupe of Motown singers instead. Do you understand?”

Joey nodded slowly.

“Good. You’re a wonderful daughter.”

Joey managed a faint smile.

“So you see how important it is to your mother to plan your wedding? It’s making her so happy.”

Joey wanted to say many things to her father now, to make this a conversation that was genuine on both ends, and yet she couldn’t.

“One more thing,” said her father. “You know, I had drinks with Grant the other night, and I want you to know how lucky you are.” Her father’s eyes blinked, portending tears. “Grant loves you so much. Do you know how I know it, Joey? Not just how he talks about you.”

“How?” Joey whispered.