CHAPTER 24 #2
He gave a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “When I’m paying for it, he expects the best.”
The words landed heavy, something brittle threaded through the calm way he said them. I frowned, wanting to ask more but stopping myself when the valet opened the door for us.
Matty got out of the truck and walked around to help me out. He slipped his hand to the small of my back and guided me forward like he could block the sting of whatever his last words had meant.
Inside, chandeliers spilled golden light onto white-linen tables and crystal glasses. The smell of grilled steak and expensive wine hung in the air. I tugged at the hem of my navy wrap dress, suddenly wishing I’d had something nicer to wear.
“You look perfect,” Matty muttered in my ear.
The hostess glanced up, blinked twice, and pasted on a smile polished enough to belong in a magazine. “Can I help you?”
“Adler party. They should be seated already,” Matty told her, his arm tightening around me as she nodded and began leading us through the restaurant.
“Here we go,” he muttered as we approached a round booth near the back that was filled with people.
Before I could brace myself, a high-pitched squeal broke through the low hum of conversation.
“Matty!”
A blur of pigtails and glitter sneakers launched out of the booth. His little sister barreled straight toward him, shouting his name far too loud for a place with a dress code. Matty laughed, catching her mid-run and scooping her up like she weighed nothing.
“Hey, Lizzie-bug,” he said, spinning her once before setting her on his hip.
My heart melted at the sight—this big, six-foot-four college football player completely undone by a little girl in orange leggings.
Lizzie finally noticed me over his shoulder. Her eyes went wide. “Wow,” she stage-whispered. “You have a pretty girlfriend.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Hi, Lizzie,” I said, smiling. “I’m Ophelia.”
She gasped, like the name itself was magic. “That’s so fancy.”
Matty chuckled, kissing the top of her head before setting her down. “Go easy on her, kiddo.”
We made it the rest of the way to the booth where his family was waiting—two younger boys around middle-school age who immediately started whispering to each other, and his parents across from them.
I already knew what they looked like, of course.
I’d seen their faces a hundred times before—in Facebook posts, holiday photos, and the occasional tagged picture from a booster event.
But seeing them in real life felt different.
His mom’s smile was warm and a little tired. His dad’s wasn’t a smile at all.
Matty slid an arm around my waist as we reached the table, his touch steadying even as my pulse hammered.
“Everyone, this is Ophelia,” he said, his voice carrying that easy confidence he always had on the field. “Ophelia, this is my family.”
He nodded toward each of them in turn. “You’ve already met Lizzie…human glitter bomb and professional scene stealer.”
Lizzie grinned, unbothered.
Matty smirked, then motioned to the two boys still half hiding behind their menus. “That’s Barrett, and the one pretending not to make faces at you is Keller.”
Both boys muttered awkward hellos, their cheeks pink.
Finally, his gaze lifted to the couple across the booth. “And these are my parents—my mom, Alice, and my dad, Ronnie.”
His mom gave me a kind smile, her eyes soft and assessing all at once. “I’m so glad you’re here, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentle, almost apologetic under the din of the dining room. “We’re so thrilled to meet you.”
Warmth flooded my chest so fast it almost hurt. I’d braced for politeness, or distance, or the kind of thin smile that meant you’re not what I pictured for my son.
But this—this felt like real kindness.
I managed a small, careful smile. “Thank you for having me,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t shake.
His dad didn’t stand. He just leaned back, arms crossed, offering a nod that felt more like an evaluation than a greeting. “So, you’re the reason my son’s been so distracted lately,” he said, his voice smooth but edged.
My throat went dry. “I—Um.”
“Dad,” Matty muttered, his voice low with warning.
“What? At least she’s pretty enough for a star like you.”
His mom literally shrank in her seat, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Matty’s hand tightened at my waist, signaling a silent ignore him. “Let’s sit down,” he said, guiding me into the booth beside him.
Lizzie squeezed in next to me, still beaming. “I like you already,” she whispered loudly enough for half the restaurant to hear.
I smiled, trying to breathe again. “Thanks, Lizzie. I like you, too.”
The waitress appeared, a young woman in a crisp black vest with a notepad tucked against her hip. Her smile was bright, polished, almost eager.
“Good evening. Can I start you with something to drink?”
Before anyone else spoke, Matty’s dad leaned forward like a general giving orders. “Bring us a bottle of Chateau Margaux. The 2009. Don’t skimp.”
The woman’s smile widened. “Excellent choice, sir. A lovely vintage.” She scribbled quickly.
His mom’s pale blue eyes widened as she stared at her menu. “That’s nine hundred dollars a bottle, Ronnie,” she murmured under her breath, barely loud enough for me to hear. Then, more hopefully, “Maybe just a Diet Coke, dear?”
Her husband waved her off with a booming laugh. “Nonsense! The Tigers won. And that means we drink like champions.”
The waitress nodded briskly. “I’ll bring the wine right out, sir.”
As she walked away, Matty’s hand clenched around mine under the table, his thumb pressing hard into my palm. His jaw was stone, his aqua eyes locked on the tablecloth like he could burn a hole through it.
I wanted to lean into him, whisper something that would help…but I couldn’t think of anything that would be enough.
I knew firsthand that when you had a difficult parent, sometimes words were never enough.
Which reminded me…I’d missed a call from my mother this morning. I needed to call her back. I frowned at the thought.
“So,” Alice said, tipping her head toward me with a gentle smile. “Tell us about yourself. What are you majoring in at school?”
I shifted in my seat, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear while my brain scrambled for the right answer. “I’m majoring in psychology,” I said finally, forcing a light laugh. “So…there’s a lot of reading. Even more papers.”
Ronnie smirked. “Psychology. Why would you major in that?”
I hesitated, the real answer clawing up my throat. Because after being locked away and labeled with half the DSM, I wanted to understand what was wrong with me. I wanted to fix it.
Instead, I smiled, picking at the edge of my napkin. “I’ve just always been curious about people, I guess. Why they do what they do.”
“Sounds dangerous,” he said dryly, leaning back.
Matty’s hand brushed against mine under the table soothingly.
“Don’t worry,” I said softly, keeping my tone light, even though a trickle of sweat was falling down my back from how nervous I was. “I only psychoanalyze on Thursdays.”
Alice chuckled, but Ronnie just grunted and took a bite of bread.
The waitress returned, balancing the dark green bottle in her hand like treasure. She presented the label with a flourish. “Chateau Margaux, 2009.”
Matty’s dad beamed like a king. “Perfect. Pour it.”
She filled his glass first, then Alice’s, but Matty waved her off when she reached for his.
“Just a Coke for me,” he said.
“Same,” I quickly added.
“Pour her some wine,” Matty said, before turning to me. “If I’m paying nine hundred dollars for that bottle, my girlfriend’s enjoying it.”
The waitress blinked, then smiled wider. “Of course. And I’ll bring your Coke right out.”
After Matty had gotten his drink, Ronnie lifted his glass high, the ruby liquid catching the chandelier’s light. “To Matthew,” he announced grandly, “who’s never forgotten his family!”
Everyone laughed like it was a joke, but Matty didn’t move. His shoulders went rigid, his hand tightening around his glass. A grimace flickered across his face before he smoothed it over with a practiced smile.
We all clinked glasses. I pretended to sip my wine, but my eyes kept straying to Matty. He didn’t drink. Just stared at the glass in his hand, his fingers flexing like he wanted to crush it.
By the time the waitress came back, her smile was brighter than ever. “Are we ready to order some appetizers?”
“Damn right we are,” Ronnie said before anyone else could talk, slapping the menu shut. “We’ll start with calamari. Spinach artichoke dip. Crab cakes. The ahi tuna. And the Wagyu meatballs—get two orders of those.”
Matty’s jaw tightened as his dad rattled off the list, each order louder and more self-satisfied than the last. The muscle in Matty’s cheek ticked. He didn’t say anything, though, just stared down at the table, fingers drumming once against the condensation on his glass before going still.
“Certainly, sir,” the waitress said smoothly, practically glowing with delight at the growing price of the bill.
His mom ducked her head, her fingers knotting in her napkin. “That’s too much food,” she whispered.
“There’s nothing wrong with trying what they have to offer,” Ronnie said, unconcerned.
The waitress smiled at him like she agreed, then glanced around the table. “Will that be all, or should I pace them out?”
“Bring it all at once. And then we’ll order our entrées.”
The waitress nodded, jotting it down, but his dad wasn’t finished. He leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “After all, my superstar football-playing son’s footing the bill. Might as well enjoy ourselves, right?”
Matty’s jaw flexed. He didn’t look up. Just reached for his Coke and took his first long, slow sip like it was the only thing keeping him from saying what he really wanted to.
The waitress scribbled the last note, tucking the pad against her chest. “Wonderful. I’ll get these started.” She gave Matty a smile like he should be proud. Then she hurried off, practically glowing.