Chapter 23
I was plastered against Easton. Sleep hadn’t found me, and I had watched him sleep like a fucking creeper. My hand was over his heart, his hand on top of it anchoring me to him. Our breaths were synced, and the whole night, I convinced myself I was strong enough to let him go.
A loud knock on my front door startled me from my musings. It wasn’t any knock, though, it was one loud one followed by three less forceful ones.
Well, fuck me.
Easton jerked awake, pulling me to him. He was protecting me like I was something precious to him.
“Who’s at your door this early in the morning?” He grabbed his phone from his nightstand … no, not his nightstand, my nightstand and checked the time.
It was six-thirty in the morning. Earlier, Easton had shut off his phone, holding my hand closer to his chest, for the first time not getting up to go to the gym.
I groaned, “It’s my parents. Stay here. I’ll get them to take me to breakfast, and you can sneak out.”
I kissed him lightly as another round of their distinct knock, this time with more force, landed on my front door. “I’ll get them out quick.”
Easton asked me about my parents a couple times, but I always changed the subject. My distraction technique of choice was to put his dick in my mouth. There were a few times I wondered if he brought them up because he knew it was a guaranteed blowjob.
I pulled on my PJs, throwing my robe over them before closing my door quietly and heading out to the disaster that was my parents.
When I opened the door my dad’s hand was raised like he was about to knock again.
“What took you so long, sweetie?” my mom asked, walking past me with the overpowering scent of flowers.
“Sorry, I was sleeping.”
“It’s six-thirty in the morning,” my dad chided as if I couldn’t tell the time.
“I had a late night. Jules and I landed a big account, and we are working really hard on it,” I answered, walking to the kitchen and starting the coffee machine. I knew my mom wouldn’t leave for breakfast unless she had at least one cup of coffee.
I glanced to my closed bedroom door, sending Easton a silent apology.
“You work too hard. Bradford isn’t going to want a wife that’s always working and not home to take care of him. He works too hard for a flaky wife,” my dad said to my back.
I knew something along those lines was going to come out of his mouth, but it still stung even if it didn’t surprise me.
Through gritted teeth, I answered him, “Remember, Bradford and I broke up?”
“Oh, sweetie. He’ll take you back. You just need to apologize for whatever you did. He’s a man. He probably needed to sow his wild oats before you two settled down,” my mom added helpfully.
Fuck, I’m going to be more bruised from my parents’ words than Easton’s hands by the time I get them out of my house.
“I wouldn’t take him back, even if he did happen to come back after sowing his wild oats. I deserve a man who wants to be with me and not when it’s convenient for him.”
I poured two coffees into to-go cups, something I made sure I had on hand just for occasions such as these.
“You’re too independent. What happened to the happy little girl I used to bounce on my knee?” my dad asked, sipping his coffee with a grimace. “What flavor is this? It’s not very good.”
It was the same coffee my parents always had, but of course it wouldn’t be good enough. Neither it nor I ever were.
“It’s the same coffee I always buy,” I answered, ignoring the little girl bouncing on his knee comment. I was fairly sure my dad had never bounced me on his knee, and I knew for certain I was never a happy little girl.
Seriously, there are plenty of pictures of me as a kid and I never smiled in any of them. It’s one of Jules’ favorite things to make fun of me about.
“It probably went bad. You know you have to store your coffee in the fridge to keep it fresh,” my mom offered as she too grimaced at the sip she just took.
“You’re right. It probably did go bad. Let me go get dressed and I’ll take you out to breakfast.”
Bravo, Rachel.
I resisted the impulse to give myself a high-five.
“Not that café you took us to last time. The service was terrible,” my mom complained, taking another sip, forgetting that the coffee went bad.
“You should invite Bradford. We’d love to see him,” my dad said, also drinking his coffee.
“Bradford is in butt-fuck somewhere and I don’t want to see or eat with him ever again.”
My dad shook his head in disappointment. “I really wish you wouldn’t use the f-bomb, Rachel. It’s not ladylike and probably one of the reasons Bradford left you.”
Don’t do it, Rachel.
Fuck it.
I looked at my dad with mock innocence. “What the fuck is an f-bomb?”
Both my parents looked aghast, and this time I did high-five myself … behind my back so they couldn’t see, of course.
When my parents continued to stare at me with horror, I wondered if I’d gone too far this time.
Then I heard a throat clear and a hand high-five mine.
Easton’s very familiar hand landed on my lower back after his surprise high-five.
It was then I realized my parents weren’t staring at me, they were staring at the man who just came out of my bedroom. A man who was very much not Bradford.
“Hello, I’m Easton.” Easton put out his hand to shake my parents’.
My dad pulled out of his confusion first, giving Easton and me his disapproving glare, which if I was being honest was his normal face when he was with me.
My dad, ever the misogynist, shook Easton’s hand. “Hello, I’m Rachel’s dad, Tim, and this is my wife, Sheryl.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Easton said, layering on the charm.
I wanted to laugh at the look my mom was giving him, but having Easton meet my parents was just giving them more ammo for their disappointment rants.
“I was just going to get ready to take my parents to breakfast.” I elbowed Easton without even a grunt from him, but my elbow didn’t appreciate the move.
“Go get dressed and I’ll entertain them and we can all go,” Easton said, kissing the top of my head.
“Don’t you have an important meeting you need to get to this morning?” I enlarged my eyes, wanting him to see that he should bow out.
“Nah, nothing is more important than breakfast. And besides, I’d love to get to know your parents.”
I hate this man. At least he’s making it easier to break things off with him.
After a few more attempts trying to get Easton to see what a horrible idea going to breakfast would be, my dad finally lost his patience with me.
“Rachel, the man said he wanted to go to breakfast with us. You need to stop being so argumentative.”
“I swear we taught her better,” my mom chided, needing to put her dig in to make sure my dad wasn’t ahead in the hurt Rachel department.
“I like her just the way she is. Only boring people want docile women.”
Realizing there was no getting out of breakfast, I went to my room to get ready.
I put on a pair of jeans and a JackholeS T-shirt, throwing my hair up in a bun.
I put some eyeshadow on, thankful for my eyelash girl, and swiped some lip gloss on after brushing my teeth.
I took a deep breath and pushed into my tennis shoes.
“Oh, honey, we would have waited longer if you wanted to do your hair and makeup,” my mom, who was also wearing jeans and a T-shirt with little makeup on, chided.
Hypocrite.
“I think you look beautiful,” Easton said, kissing me on the nose.
“Well, hopefully she doesn’t age like her mom,” my dad said.
My parents also like to be mean to each other. I always told myself it was their way of showing love.
Yes, I’m delusional.
“Or your mother,” my mom shot back.
“Okay, just follow us,” I said when I ushered them out to their car.
Easton handed me the keys to his car, and I was afraid my dad’s head was going to explode. Women were passengers and second-class citizens according to my dad, and my mom, too.
“I don’t know where we’re going,” Easton explained, jumping into the passenger seat.
I climbed in and took a deep breath, and then another, my hands shaking from the encounter.
“If my dad wasn’t out there, I would make you drive. I’m too upset to be behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.”
“You’ll be perfect, Trouble.” Easton’s hand landed on my thigh, and even though I didn’t want it to be, the pressure was comforting. “Besides, I figured driving would get your mind off of what is about to happen.”
He was right. I pulled out of the driveway and purposely drove slowly, knowing my dad hated slow drivers. I made sure I stopped at stop signs and counted to three, obeying the traffic laws so well I would have passed a driver’s test.
“Is this how you drive every day?” I asked, wanting to lighten the mood.
Easton chuckled. “Shut it, Trouble. So, those are your parents, huh?”
“Can you see why I never wanted to talk about them? Also, be prepared for the worst breakfast you’ve ever had. My parents have not met a restaurant or waiter they’ve liked. They will complain about everything and nothing will meet their standards.”
“Even you?”
“Especially me. They normally don’t visit very often, and when they do it’s mostly because I did something to disappoint them and they want to tell me to my face instead of over the phone.”
“Breaking up with Bradford?” Easton asked.
“Yep, breaking up with Bradford awarded me a visit with my parents. If I didn’t hate him already this would have solidified my hatred.”
“Do you hate him, though?”
I thought about it as I pulled into the parking lot of another café my parents were going to hate.
“No. If he hadn’t done what he did, I would be marrying him. And although it would have made my parents happy, I don’t think I would have been happy in the long run. Maybe not right away. It may have taken years, but it would have happened.”
“And you never would have gotten up close and personal with my banana.”
I smiled. “You are correct, sir.”
Easton glared at me. “Please refrain from calling me that. I don’t need a hard-on while we have breakfast with your parents.”
“Two things,” I said when I pulled into a parking spot. “They really don’t understand what I do for a living, and they hate Jules.”
Easton’s head whipped toward me, but I didn’t let him ask questions. I was already slipping out of the car to impending doom.
“This place is terrible,” my mom whined, looking over the menu. “And the coffee might be worse than yours.” She sipped her coffee as if she hadn’t just put it down.
“Sorry, we can go somewhere else if you’d like.”
It was a stupid move taking them to this particular café, mostly because I liked it and didn’t want the staff to hate me. After we ordered- my parents of course had many special requests that I was sure the chef was going to hate- I knew I’d never come here again.
Easton’s hand landed on my lap, and I intertwined our fingers, taking his support.
“So how did you two meet? You didn’t cheat on Bradford, did you?
Oh, honey, he is never going to take you back.
And you know this one is too good looking to want to marry you.
You know he’s just using you because you’re easy.
I told you not to give it away for free.
You never listen to me, and I don’t want you to come crying when this one breaks your heart. ”
Well, it appears my mom can hurt me still. Good to know.
She was too on the head with her comment about Easton not marrying me. They didn’t know about our arrangement, but it didn’t mean they weren’t fully aware I wasn’t enough to make Easton fall in love with me.
“I’m going to correct you and tell you that Rachel is way too good for me. I would marry her in a heartbeat if I knew she’d have me.”
I wanted to scream. Easton said what my parents wanted to hear, but also what I wanted to hear, too. I knew he was setting it up where it would look like I broke his heart, but my parents wouldn’t be fooled, and I would once again be the fuck-up that was their daughter.
“Ahh, that’s nice,” my mom said in a sickeningly sweet voice that showed she wasn’t buying it.
“My business partner’s sister hired Marketing Madams to launch her new passion project.” At the blank expression on my parents’ faces, Easton amended, “Rachel and Jules’ company.”
My parents nodded their heads as if they knew all along the name of their daughter’s business. “That Jules.” My mom shook her head. “I wish you would stop hanging out with her. She’s too loose in morals. I bet that was another reason Bradford broke up with you.”
“Well, being that she is my best friend and business partner, I think you’re going to have to get used to her. She’s not going anywhere.”
My parents scowled. The food came, and after sending it back three times individually, not each, we finally ate.
Although my parents tried to put me down between bites, Easton smoothly interjected with praise. I wanted to tell him to stop, mostly because they would never listen and he was making my heart fall even more in love with him.
By the grace of the universe breakfast ended. I watched Easton tip the waiter with an exorbitant amount of money and give him a very sincere apology. I helped my parents up and walked them out, not wanting my dad to see Easton tipping. He didn’t believe in the practice of tipping.
Outside, my mom got teary-eyed hugging me goodbye. These people were an enigma. My dad hugged me while laying on his famous guilt trip about how I never call or visit.
“I call once a week. Your phone shoots me to voicemail.”
My parents looked at each other, sharing a silent conversation where they shared how unlucky they were being stuck with a lying daughter.
When they pulled out of the parking lot, I handed Easton the keys to his car and climbed in.
How could two people exhaust me so much?
Easton was quiet as he drove back to my house. His hand was interlaced with mine, and I wondered if meeting my parents would have him running. If he was smart, he would get away from me and go far away.
Maybe my parents showing up wasn’t such a bad thing. If Easton ended our agreement, I could blame my parents and feel better about myself.
Another lie, Rachel.