Page 223

“Absolutely out of the question!” she laughs in her crisp, posh London accent that’s never gone away. “You're filthy, and this is Chanel."

Dad sighs heavily, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He turns back toward the engine as he shoots me a sideways grin and winks at me.

Mom shrieks again when he spins back, grabs her around the waist, yanks her against him, and kisses the shit out of her. She laughs into his mouth. But then my dad just keeps kissing her, and her laugh dissolves into something waaaay softer as she melts into him, arms around his neck, Chanel clearly forgotten.

I groan and shoot Piggy Stardust a look. “Dude, our parents are gross.”

When they finally pull apart, there are two large black handprints on the ass of Mom’s cream skirt. Dad grins and palms her butt again. "I'll buy you a new one,” he chuckles.

"I think you'll buy me three,” she says, sticking out her tongue at him.

God, they’re disgustingly cute.

“I just got off the phone with Nora," she says, turning to me. "She and Jasmine say hi. They’re still in Beaune and having the time of their lives. Apparently they’re seriously considering buying an old chateau and fixing it up.”

Technically, Nora's my aunt. But since Mom is over ten years older than her and literally raised her, Nora’s always felt more like a much older, cool sister.

She’s also a Master Sommelier, which is why she and her very awesome wife Jasmine are currently touring the burgundy vineyards of France.

I should mention that Nora does not know what I do in my free time.

Dad leans back under the hood, grunting, then pops his head back out and nods his chin at me. “Want to give it a rip?”

I'm behind the wheel before he finishes his sentence.

The Mustang wakes up with a roar when I crank the ignition. The sound fills the old airplane hangar, thundering through my ribcage and shaking the corrugated metal walls.

Dad whoops like a kid on Christmas morning as he grabs Mom and kisses her again.

When I cut the engine and climb back out of the car, Mom leans on the fender beside me. At this point the poor Chanel is fucked, so why bother pretending.

“So…” She turns and smiles at me. “How are things with Damiano?"

"Sleeping on the couch," Dad calls out from back under the hood. "Obviously."

Mom rolls her eyes, then gives me a look. "That's not even slightly true, is it?"

I shrug, my face heating. “I mean he has slept on the couch on occasion…”

Dad scowls as he instantly yanks himself back out from under the hood. “The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Mom snorts a laugh, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as she rolls her eyes. “It means, darling, they're young, attractive, married, and they live in a very small cottage with one bed." She arches a perfect brow. "What on Earth do you imagine they're doing?"

"I'm not imagining shit!" Dad groans. “Except maybe murdering that fucker now.”

I giggle and crane my head around Mom to catch my dad’s eye. “You know, I’m not sure if I told you… He’s got a '65 Aston Martin DB5.”

Dad’s brows shoot up. “Fuck, really?” He frowns. “You mean a kit-car…?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Original. Chantilly cream, cognac leather interior."

And no longer covered with neon dicks and “SIZE QUEEN”.

Dad groans. “Well…fuck,” he grumbles. “Maybe I'm not murdering him.”

Mom laughs. "Because of his car?"

Dad shrugs. “Well…kinda?”