“Why are you handing me the telephone?” Jeremy’s expression, rather like a befuddled sheepdog, was one I found particularly adorable on him. I leaned down and brushed my lips over his.
“So you can call your father and tell him we won’t be able to have dinner with him this Saturday. Discover what other day will suit for him, and we can set it up. You, my dear friend,” I told him before he could ask, “are coming to Pamela’s birthday dinner.”
“I am?” He frowned, obviously puzzled by the emphasis I’d placed on the word “friend.”
“You are.” I drew the backs of my fingers over his cheek.
“But it’s…”
“Don’t be an arse and use the excuse it’s a family affair to, Waters. Pamela wants you to come, and so do I.” Besides, if he was willing to die for me, the least he could do was join me for my sister’s birthday. “Never mind, I’ll call your father.” I took the phone from him and dialled before he could give me the number.
“James?”