He’d called the night before to ask Gabe what to wear and had been told it was khaki-and-polo-shirt casual. James dug out his one polo shirt. He still couldn’t exactly believe he was going to a charity garden party at a country club. He flipped his hair to one side and then the other. He’d never put a lot of thought into his hair before. There were a lot of things he’d never put thought into before; he’d simply had other priorities. “You look fine, Dad,” Dylan critiqued from the doorway. “Just stop messing with it.” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. Now go snag yourself a rich, executive sugar daddy.” “Dylan!” Dylan had become half-obsessed with the fact that it was a garden party, which meant Gabe almost certainly had a comfortable income. “I’m saying it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Being a kept man and all, you could go back to school, cut loose a little.” “Enough.” “Okay, okay.
