CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rory
I tap on my steering wheel as I stare down the red light. Driving to have dinner with my parents is the last thing I want to be doing tonight. But it’s Sunday night, and seeing as I skipped out on dinner last week—and forgot to call and cancel—there’s no escaping it this week.
I’ve been summoned—to Dad’s house, no less—which feels ominous somehow. We usually meet at a restaurant because they can never agree on whose house to eat at if we try for a home-cooked meal. Not that I’m expecting anything. Mom barely cooked when we were kids, and I’ve never seen Dad lift a finger in the kitchen.
As I pull up to Dad’s A-frame house, the gravel crunches under my Subaru’s tires even through the layer of snow. I don’t want to leave the comfort of my car, but I’m here now, so I might as well get this over with. I watch each step I take over the slick ground, ignoring the anxiety building in my veins.
I want to be holed up in a little condo drinking hot chocolate through a cookie straw, watching kid movies on the couch with Willow and getting lost in Breck’s arms when the lights go out. They leave on Friday, and this dinner is taking me away from one of my last nights with them.
My gloved finger barely brushes the doorbell before the door swings open. Mom stands on the other side, looking me over with irritation in her eyes. Oh good, it’s going to be one of those nights . At least I won’t have to wait out their small talk before we get to the disappointment part of the evening.
“Come in,” she says and turns on her heeled foot. Did it just drop fifteen degrees in here?
“Good evening to you too,” I mutter under my breath, sliding off my boots.
The smell as I move through the lavish house alleviates a little bit of tension in my shoulders. Scents of curry, spices, and coconut milk make my mouth water. The aromatic dishes sit on the long oak table and, just as I open my mouth to compliment the food choice, my dad’s voice cracks through the room like a whip.
“Sit, Rory.” Deep blue eyes, identical to Wes’s but with none of the warmth, bore into me. They’re cold as ice and my body freezes under their stare. I don’t even know what I’m in trouble for, but it’s clear that I am, and I feel ten years old again.
I duck my chin and move to my seat, awaiting the hammer that’s poised to fall as soon as Mom takes hers across from me.
“Anything we should know, Rory?” he questions, eyes narrowing. He sits stick-straight; shoulders tense around his ears.
Shit. Do they know about me and Breck? No, that can’t be right. I shake my head, the confusion clear on my face. Dad’s features harden and Mom’s face holds nothing but disappointment.
“What’s going on?” I ask, worrying my thumb between my teeth.
“What’s going on?” Dad condescends. “I’d love for you to answer that question. I’d love for you to own up to what you were doing last week when you didn’t show up for dinner.”
“I… I told you I wasn’t feeling well,” I stammer. I’ve never been good at lying.
Mom scoffs and Dad slams his hand on the table beside his plate, rattling the silverware and glasses.
“You’re really going to pretend you weren’t too busy with another elopement to show up for your obligations? Too busy dragging Wes’s friend into your nonsense?”
My mouth pops open. Their knowing shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow it does. And their referring to Breck as “Wes’s friend” stings too. He’s my friend—maybe a little more than a friend—and yeah, spending time with him felt more important than dinner last week.
My mom sees the realization as it dawns and purses her lips with a nod. “You really thought we wouldn’t find out you’ve been taking on more of these photography projects? It wasn’t just the one for Jamie’s friend and then your brother’s. We know about all the others. You think we don’t know what you do? Like we’d let our daughter run amok and tarnish our family name in this community.”
“But I—how?” I can’t form words. I don’t understand.
I avoid Mom’s eyes, glancing at Dad instead, and the look in his gaze crushes me. I’ve strived not to disappoint my parents for years and here I am, a bigger disappointment than ever. I can almost feel it radiating off them.
“Does it really matter how we found out?” he says, and his voice is tired, strained. “But if you must know, I met Logan for lunch this week and he mentioned how impressed he was with the photos from your elopement last Sunday. That your photography just gets better and better with each one . He told me how proud he was to have you working at the resort with talent like yours.”
Normal parents might’ve beamed with pride… but to them, to learn from my boss that I’m doing something they expressly disapprove of… It’s more like a betrayal.
“I was just—”
“You were just what? Trying to embarrass us? Trying to do more than you’re capable of? Do you have any idea how likely you are to fail?” Each of Dad’s words cut me to the quick. “What’s your plan? Abandon your real job for this stupid whim and then come crying to us to bail you out when it falls apart?”
Stupid . That’s what this whole thing has been. Stupid for even entertaining the idea that I could do this somehow. Stupid for letting Breck make me dream of something bigger and letting myself get so caught up in him, in them, in a man who won’t be here in a week and my life will implode around me the moment he leaves.
“No, I—”
“Don’t forget we already support you. We’ve allowed you to live rent-free because you held down a steady job—maybe not the one we wanted for you, but still, a steady job.” Mom’s voice drips with disdain. “You were a good investment for that property. If you become a risky investment, we might have to reconsider.”
“What? Are you threatening to kick me out?” My lip quivers and I bite down on it. I can’t cry. If I cry, it’ll be one more weakness for them to look down on. I close my eyes and will the tears to absorb back into my tear ducts. That condo has been my home for over four years. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
“I—where would I go?”
“The correct response should be ‘I’m sorry, it won’t be a problem again,’ because like you said, where would you go?” my mom says with as much fierce resolve as I’ve ever heard in her voice.
My tears finally get the better of me, one slipping free as I look at my dad. There’s nothing but stoic dissatisfaction there. I can’t stay here, no matter the heavenly smells wafting around us. I have to leave before they see me weaken any further. I slide my chair out and walk away. They don’t follow. I yank the door open, not even bothering to zip my boots up when I slip them on.
As I walk out, I hear my mother’s voice behind me. “We expect an apology and your word that this business is over by the end of the day tomorrow, or we move forward with the eviction.”
I close the door behind me and the tears fall in earnest my whole drive home.