Futures and Frosting (Chocolate Lovers 2)

“Dad, Carter and I have been living together for two months. It’s a little late for this speech now don’t you think?”

My dad has never said one word for or against mine and Carter’s living arrangements ever since we first announced it on the day of Seduction and Snacks’ grand opening.

He had grunted, glared at Carter, and then walked away. That was approval as far as I had been concerned.

Now that it’s been two months and I haven’t changed my mind like he probably thought I would, suddenly he has an opinion.

“Everyone says, ‘why buy the bar when you can get the beer for free’.”

I stop with my arm in midair as I reach for a towel to wipe down the counter.

“Dad, no one says that.”

“Everyone says that,” he replies, pushing himself away from the counter and moving his hands to his hips.

I roll my eyes and began wiping crumbs off of the top of the display case.

“Really? Who?” I challenge as the bell above the door chimes and a customer walks in.

“People,” he states firmly.

I sighed and turn away from my dad to smile and greet the woman who is perusing the white chocolate section at the opposite end of the case from where we are standing. After making sure she doesn’t have any questions, I glance back at him.

“Dad, it’s two-thousand-and-twelve, not the nineteen-fifties. People live together all the time before they make any kind of huge commitment. We just need some time to get used to each other and learn to live together as a family without killing each other. It’s not that big of a deal.”

My dad huffs and it is his turn to stare at me in irritation.

“Really, Claire, when have I ever given you any kind of indication that I’m old fashioned? I just don’t want this yahoo to think he can move you and Gavin into his place and then never have to do anything to make it official. At least if he married you, I wouldn’t have to worry about your whiny ass showing up on my doorstep anytime soon wanting your old room back.”

I wonder how many Butter Brickle Bars I can fit in my mouth at one time.

“Did you really just call Carter a yahoo? How about we take a seat on the davenport so we can discuss that little hooligan and how you aren’t old fashioned in the least?” I state sarcastically.

“I should have sold you to that traveling circus when you were four. I could be out on the lake fishing right now instead of having this conversation,” he mutters.

My dad had been married twice before he married my mom, and he had his first wife Linda’s name tattooed on his arm. When I was younger I tried to change Linda to my mom’s name, Rachel, with a sharpie marker when he was sleeping. Unfortunately, he woke up before I could finish. It took him three days to wash Rinda off of his arm. When I told that story to Carter, he started singing like the Chinese men in “A Christmas Story”. Deck da hars with boughs of horry, fa-ra-ra-ra-ra, ra-ra-ra-ra! He tried joking with my dad once about it saying, “You reary roved Rinda.” My dad thought he was impersonating Scooby Doo and didn’t find it funny. Could be why he wasn’t one hundred percent sold on the whole living together situation. And all of it was a prime example of why I wasn’t jumping on board the marriage band wagon just yet. My dad had struck out three times and my mom twice when she had finally decided marriage wasn’t for her when I was twelve and packed up to get a condo in the city.

I don’t really have shining examples of happily ever after in my life.

Anyway, the point is everyone makes their own decisions about life, some good and some bad. They all teach us something about who we are and blah, blah, blah. No matter what my dad’s opinion is, I need to know if Carter’s snoring and his inability to put a new roll of toilet paper back on the holder is going to be a deal breaker before we do something legal that we can’t back out of.

So far, stupid bad habits aside, we are doing quite well cohabiting. Gavin has adjusted nicely, and I haven’t smothered Cater in his sleep. That’s total win right there.

My dad can finally tell by the look on my face that I am closing the conversation for further discussion or arguments, and he has given up on the beer/sex/whatever the f**k analogy. He grabs the newspaper he set down on the counter when he first walked in, tucks it under his arm, and walks over to one of the small tables by the front window to drink his coffee. Regardless of the mood he had put me in, seeing the four black, round tables set up in front of the picture window at the front of the store makes me smile. They had just been delivered the prior week and seeing someone sitting in them, even if it is my father, made me giddy. This is my store and those are my tables and nothing can mar the elated feeling that gave me.

The chime above the door sounds again, and I glanced over to see my friend Jenny storm in with an angry scowl on her face. Never in a million years have I ever picture myself being friends with someone like her. She is runway model beautiful and the things that come out of her mouth rarely make sense, but she’s proven to be a good friend in the few months since I've met her and would help anyone with anything they asked without a second thought. Much to everyone’s surprise, Jenny had managed to grab onto Carter’s best friend, Drew, and wrap him around her little finger. Drew is the biggest man whore you will ever lay eyes on, but for whatever reason, Jenny is able to tame him. Somewhat.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask Jenny as I round the counter to meet her halfway. I glance down at my watch and see it's only eleven in the morning. “Why aren’t you at work?”