Southern Storm (Southern 3)

“I’ll be back, dear.” He kisses my mother’s cheek, and she just nods. My father leads the way to his home office. He opens the door and waits for me to walk in before closing the door behind me.

“Now, what has ruffled your feathers, boy?” he asks, walking toward his liquor cabinet. Taking his crystal tumbler in his hand, he pours a whiskey.

“Was it you?” I ask, and he just looks at me. “Were you responsible for Savannah’s accident?”

He looks at me and then turns back to his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m asking if you were the one who made sure Savannah’s truck was forced off the road.” I watch him. He smirks to himself, picking up the glass and bringing it to his lips.

“Son.” Just the way he says it makes my skin crawl. “It’s not my fault that woman has made enemies.” He takes a gulp of his whiskey. “It’s just sad that her son was mixed up in it.”

“You mean your grandson.” His eyes fly up, and he looks at me, glaring.

“Watch your tone.” Any other time, I would have just walked out of the room, but not this time. Not after everything that I found out.

“I’m going to marry her.” I watch his face. “I asked her to marry me, and she accepted.”

“Your brother’s sloppy seconds,” he says, and I step toward him.

“You should choose your words wisely, Father. I would hate for someone to hear the secret that you’ve gone to great lengths to keep.” I advance more now. “You’ll also show my future wife respect.”

“You have got to be out of your mind if you think you are going to marry her.” He shakes his head. “There is no way. You are a self-respecting mayor. You come from the best family that there is. You have generations upon generations of blue blood.”

“And?” I look at him.

“You can’t marry that woman.” He slams his glass down, and his voice gets a touch louder. “She’s a woman you fuck, not marry.”

“That’s two,” I say, putting up my fingers. “You insult her one more time, and I’m going to forget you’re my father when I slam my fist through your face.”

“You’d better watch yourself.” He glares at me as someone knocks on the door. “What is it, Mary Ellen?”

The door opens, and my mother comes in. “Listen, you two,” she says. “I will not have our good name dragged through the mud. People will think you are in here fighting with each other.”

I look at my mother. “I was informing Father that I’m getting married.”

My mother puts her hands together. “Oh, that is wonderful.”

“To Savannah,” my father tells her, and the smile on my mother’s face drops.

“Beau.” The way she says my name is almost in pity. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Really, Mother?” I put my hands on my head. “And why is that?”

“Well, she has a child,” she starts.

“Mom, are you saying I have to marry a virgin? Because I can tell you right now, your debutante girls are not virgins,” I say, and she shakes her head.

“It’s not just that. She has a child.” My mother wrings her hands. “But it’s just not suitable.”

I look up. “I’m not here for your permission,” I tell them. “Either of you. I’m here just to let you know that I’m marrying her, and she’s mine.” I look at my father now. “And with being mine, that means I will do what I need to do in order to protect her. Even if it’s from my family.”

My mother now sniffles. “This is crazy.”

“I love her,” I say out loud, and my mother just stands there with her mouth open in shock.

“What has love got anything to do with it?” my father asks. “She’s a little slut. You see her. She’s probably slept with half the town already, and you’re the idiot who is going to marry her.”

My mother gasps. “That’s three.” I turn and walk to the door. “Also, that’s your last warning.” I look at my mother. “I take it you aren’t going to offer me your mother’s engagement ring?”

“It’s a family heirloom,” she says.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I say, then look at my father. “I meant what I said. She’s mine now. You fuck with her, and you are fucking with me.” He stands there with his shoulders square and his back straight. “You should also know I can play just as dirty as you, old man.” I grab the doorknob. “What was it you said? Chip off the old block?”

“You’ll regret this,” he says.

“I would hate to think that you just threatened me.” I wait for my father to say something else.

“Of course not,” my mother says. “He would never hurt you. You’re his son.”

I laugh bitterly. “Have a nice evening.” I walk out of my parents’ house and make my way back to my house. The whole time, my body shakes with rage and my hands have a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. When I pull up, I see that the house is pitch black, and I wonder if she left. Opening the door, I see that a little light is coming from the family room, so I walk back to the room, and I see that she is pacing the floor. She looks like she’s been crying.