Her expression brightens. “Paige got back to me this morning. Elena is going to cover The Paw Spa inThe Meadow Bee.Which means I’m one step closer to getting Agatha back, ifall goes well, so I’ll reschedule the dogs for your fight. It won’t be the first time I’ve let down my pet parents, right?” She winces, and I know she’s remembering the same thing I am—the night she overbooked herself and cried when I called the remaining clients to come back on different days.
“Congratulations on the feature. But I know you still don’t want to let your customers down, so I won’t be upset if you stay here.”
She frowns like I’m not making sense. “But it would be so much worse to let you down.”
My stomach flips. The feeling in my chest is now too warm, too bubbly to endure. With unspoken, forbidden words practically on my lips, I lean toward her, taking her face in my hands.
She bites her lip, brows drawing together like she’s nervous. Like she might not want me to kiss her. “I’ll, uh, be right back. I need to use the restroom.” She escapes my grip and goes down the hall before I can utter another word.
Lord, am I smothering her, or is she just afraid? If it’s the latter, please show her I’m not going to hurt her if you want us together.I’m about to ask Him to give me confidence for my fight too, when a key unlocks the front door.
I frown.Now, who could that be? Ingrid is at work.
My brain scrambles to process why on earth the door is unlocking, and then I’m on my feet in an instant.
The door opens. Mum struts right into the kitchen, Dad following meekly on her heels. When she sees me standing by the table, her gaze zeroes in on me.
It’s like being smacked in the face. My parents aren’t supposed to be here for hours, but here they are, before the gala instead of after.
Seeing my mother glare at me with those icy blue eyes feels like a reprimand. She would look just like Ingrid with her redhair, if it weren’t for the compassion absent from her expression. Her natural air of dominance is a lot to take in after being away for so long. And Dad only glances at me before checking the time on his designer watch. He’s dressed to the nines as usual, donning a fitted blazer, dress shoes, and expensive slacks. His greying hair is neatly combed in preparation for today’s gala.
My mother offers me a strained smile by way of greeting. “Hello, Sebastian. There’s still time to come to the event with us, so we thought we’d stop by and see if you had a change of heart.”
I stare at her, completely caught off guard until she snaps her fingers at me impatiently. “Did you hear me?”
“Mother…I’m not?—”
“Let’sgo.” She taps her foot. “You must know how tired I’ve gotten of this little game. I want you to work the gala. And then I want you to come home.”
My words come out strained. “Why? So you can control me again?” I try to make eye contact with Dad, hoping by some miracle he’ll actually defend me, but he just stares at the ground.
“If you’re referring to how I feel about you fighting professionally, none of that’s changed. You can’t expect me to support that kind of lifestyle, Sebastian. Especially not after all the training we’ve given you within our line of work.” She takes a deep breath, pressing her fingertips to her temples and closing her eyes. “Please. I have a terrible migraine, so don’t keep me waiting.”
“Sorry. I’m not going anywhere.”
She pretends I haven’t spoken. “You never used that check I sent, so I know you need money, and I’ll pay you for today if you come.”
“I have a temporary job. I’m fine. And I’ll be doing even better after my fight.”
Mum’s face reddens, but before she can fire her next retort, Romilly emerges from the bathroom. She takes in the three ofus, confusion crossing her face, and then she says, “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Black.”
Mum’s frown lines deepen. “And you are…?”
Romilly blushes, moving toward them with grace and an extended hand. “Romilly Westfall. I’m a friend of Sebastian’s.”
Dad speaks up for the first time, eyeing Romilly with amusement. “Just a friend?” And then he shoots me a knowing glance that makes rage fill my body. I know what he’s thinking. That the rumors all over our church back home are true, and Romilly is just one of many. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve denied all the talk, despite her being the first woman I’ve ever been seen with or introduced to them and Ingrid. They never believe me.
“Just a friend,” Romilly confirms with a sweet smile. “You’ve raised such a fine man. Everything good about Bash, I know must be thanks to the two of you.”
Mum’s pinched face seems to soften a fraction. “Oh…thank you.”
“That’s very kind, Romilly,” says Dad.
She beams. “I can only imagine how proud you must be about his big fight. It’s all over social media.”
“Ugh,” says Mum. “I can’t think of anything worse, actually, than my son getting his face punched in.”
Romilly places her hand on her chest. “That just shows how much you care about him. How much you love him.” She looks at me. “You must bethankfulto have such loving parents, Sebastian.”
