He arrived late and sat down already on his phone.
No apology.
When he finally ended the call, he leaned back, looked at me, and smiled like we were old friends smoothing over some trivial misunderstanding.
“Family stuff gets weird,” he said. “No point letting it spiral.”
“Agreed.”
He nodded as if I had just validated him. “I think Ivy’s feeling caught in the middle.”
I kept my face neutral.
He went on for ten minutes, circling the real point with faux tact. Then he landed.
“Look,” he said, lowering his voice as if generosity required privacy. “I had a chat with your dad. Told him I’d be happy to cover your share of the wedding contribution.”
I blinked once. “My share.”
“Yeah. Like a clean slate move.” He took a sip of whiskey. “I know money’s probably a little tight on your end, and there’s no shame in that. Better for everyone if we just handle it and keep things positive.”
