Jane’s dad stands like he owns the world. Expensive slacks and navy-blue button-down, a Cartier watch on his wrist that probably costs more than my uncle’s row house. He has billion-dollar energy that screams I’m better than you. Arrogant. Poised. All the way down to the look in his eyes and posture. How he leans back against the cabinets, hands casually careened on the counter.
