Free Undeniably Yours by Heather Webber

“I’m thinking about a tattoo.”
    “Dear God,” my father said.
    My mother wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe Dovie and I can get matching tattoos of your father’s face, so he can always be with us.”
    Now I knew she was only kidding. Despite their current reconciliation, the only long-lasting tribute to my father she wanted was me.
    My father’s strong jaw slid to the side and stayed there as his nostrils flared—a sure sign he was reaching his tolerance peak. “I’m not dying.”
    “Not yet,” my mother replied, smiling sweetly, a murderous glint in her eye. “Give it time. Five, ten minutes or so.”
    Ah, love.
    “Amusing,” my father intoned.
    Mum arched a thin blond eyebrow and returned her attention to Aiden. “Have you spoken with Em yet? She was quite worried.”
    “This morning.” His mouth went back to being tight again.
    “Good, good.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “ Is everything good between you two?”
    Aiden gave me a “help me” look.
    It was Dad who came to the rescue. “Good god, woman, let the man breathe.”
    “Impossible,” my mother mumbled.
    “Raphael says you’re working, Lucy,” Dad said, turning the focus on me. “I thought you were taking some time off?”
    “There are some cases you can’t say no to,” I answered with a shrug.
    “You can always say no,” my father said quite seriously. “You should go home and rest.”
    “No,” I said.
    My mother tipped her head back and laughed.
    “Not funny, Lucy,” Dad murmured, rubbing his temples.
    I was quite certain my mother and I were the sole source of his migraines.
    “Oh, lighten up, Oscar,” Mum countered. To Aiden and me, she added, “He’s cranky.”
    He was cranky. She was murderous. It was just another day in their relationship.
    “Why?” Aiden asked, pushing aside his empty soup bowl.
    I was happy to see he’d eaten something. I had the feeling it was the first food in days.
    Mum said, “Because I vetoed his renovation plans.”
    My father let out a loud sigh. “In an autocracy, there is no veto power, Judie.”
    “This King of Love stuff is going to your head, Oscar.” My mother looked at me and said, “He wants to combine the second and third floors into one space with lots of glass and teak and no. No, no, no.” She pulled a print of a floor plan from one of her binders.
    I studied the page. “I kind of like it.”
    “The betrayal!” my mother said softly, clutching her heart.
    “Not the glass or the teak, but the layout,” I explained. The space combined the matchmaking and investigation offices.
    “You’re two-thirds forgiven,” Mum said. “The character of the building cannot be sacrificed. The wood, the brick, the charm .”
    “Agreed, agreed, agreed.” I liked the idea of us all being one big team, but I didn’t know how Sam would take losing his space. “You’ll want to run this by Sam before settling on any certain plan.”
    “It’s my building,” my father said. “I’ll make the decisions.”
    I glanced at my mother. “The king thing has gone to his head.”
    “He’s impossible these days, I’m telling you.” She let out a deep breath. “I think it’s the grandpa thing. He’s not adjusting well to the news that he’s old enough to have a grandchild.”
    My father looked at Aiden. “Kill me now.”
    I smiled. “Aw. Grandpa. So cute. But he looks more like a Grampy to me.”
    “Don’t make me disown you,” he snapped.
    “How’s Preston doing?” Mum asked. “Have you heard from her today?”
    “Earlier. She’s feeling fine, but Dovie’s trying to make her watch ballroom dancing. She’s thinking about flinging herself into the ocean.”
    “Smart girl,” my father muttered.
    I heard my phone chirp and fished in my tote bag for my cell.
    “Is that Sean?” my mother asked. “How’s he doing?”
    It was Sean—a text message. “Better,” I said, swiping the screen until Sean’s message appeared. I read the words, looked up at Aiden, and said,