"You didn't call shotgun," El-Mudad stated. He'd become acclimated to my strict rules for boarding priority much faster than Neil had, another perk to being the late arrival to our relationship.
"We were discussing how long it would take for Molly and Amal to end up living in that house together," I said, flashing him a grin over the back of my seat. "He said three weeks."
"Oh, you need to get some more lesbian friends," Neil unintentionally repeated my phrase.
"And by the way," El-Mudad said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "You might have mentioned to either of us that you planned to give a gift.”
"Especially since that gift might come with some fallout for me, from the Tangens." Ugh, that didn't feel right coming out of my mouth. I'd referred to my half-sisters and my late father's wife that way in my head a lot, but any time I said it was a slap in the face that reminded me I'd never been a part of Joey Tangen's life.
"It was a spur of the moment thing," Neil said, his voice raised in defensive disbelief as if it were unconscionable for us to suggest he'd done anything wrong. "Your sister is coming to live in New York, and we have a house in New York—"
"And El-Mudad has a daughter who's very much going to have sex with my sister in that house." I ignored their groans of disgust. "You two are ridiculous. Neither of you wants to think of your precious little girls having sex, but both of you perform depraved acts of sexual indecency on me all the time, and I'm someone's precious little girl."
Not my father's, of course, but someone's.
"Men are incredibly good at compartmentalizing," Neil argued.
"Is that what we're calling hypocrisy now?" I caught my fingernail between my teeth and leaned forward to look toward the helipad. "Are they ever going to take off?"
"Not if your sister can't disengage her mouth from my daughter's face," El-Mudad muttered.
Wow, tell me how you feel about her love life, Neil 2.0.
"Amal will come back on the cart," Neil said. It must have been what he'd talked to the groundskeeper about. "I thought it would be better to give her some time alone to compose herself. So that we remain unaware that she harbors any tender feelings."
"You know her so well," El-Mudad said with a fond shake of his head. He put the car in gear and drove us back to the house.
We went in through the kitchen, where El-Mudad grabbed a bottle of kombucha from the refrigerator. When I made a face at him, he frowned right back. "I told you, you'll like it when you're forty."
"Take it back!" I gasped.
"She's on my side." Neil folded his arms triumphantly. "She'll never drink your moldy tea."
"No, I meant the part about me being forty." But he wasn't wrong about the tea thing. I'd been super panicked about it being in the house—even a very, very low alcohol content could be dangerous for someone in recovery—until I'd tasted the stuff myself. El-Mudad's supply was in no danger. I leaned my elbows on the island's granite countertop. "What if Molly does want to move into Emma and Michael's house? Are you still going to be okay with it after a few days to think? Because that's a hell of a big spur-of-the-moment thing happening, and if you disappoint my sister, I will make you give her the penthouse."
"I want her to live in the house," Neil insisted. "It's a house. Emma and Michael aren't there. All of their things have been sold or boxed up for Olivia to have in the future. It's sitting empty because I don't want to let it go."
I blinked in surprise. "Oh. So, you have been thinking about this."
"Not specifically about your sister, but yes," Neil admitted. "It's been on my mind—and the subject of several chats with Doctor Harris—and I'm ready to let the house go. A little. I'd considered asking you if you'd like me to hold onto it for Amal, El-Mudad. But this felt more sensible."
"Especially considering how freaked you were by Amal wanting to move into the guest house right down the driveway." I snorted a laugh, and it was a real ugly way to begin a super tense silence.
El-Mudad's stricken expression made me regret my reaction. "Perhaps one day, you'll understand the difference between protective and over-protective, Sophie."
"Hey, trust me, you're not the most overprotective father I've ever met." I gestured to Neil. "For example, you're not calling my sister 'Horrible Molly.'"
"In hindsight, I do feel terrible for all that I put him through." Neil chuckled fondly. I was so grateful he could.
"I don't think you're silly for wanting to protect your daughter." I worried that I'd hurt El-Mudad's feelings. "But Amal is mature and smart and so much more sophisticated than I was at her age. And I survived."