“And Hannah, you’re still working at Donnelly’s?” she asked. “But surely that’s not a long-term plan? You had a successful career, Hannah, and you just… gave up.”
There it was. We’d arrived atwhat a waste of your education.
“I didn’t give up, I—”
“You had one setback at work and instead of pushing through it like an adult, you quit. Moved back here, took a job pouring drinks like you’re twenty-two again.”
“That ‘setback’ was me reporting financial fraud,” I said, my voice shaking. “I did the right thing and got punished for it.”
“And you let it derail your entire life,” Dad said. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this has been? People ask what you’re doing and we have to—” He gestured helplessly.
“Have to what? Admit I’m not perfect?”
“Have to admit you’re wasting your potential,” Mom said sharply. “You threw everything away because you couldn’t handle a little adversity.” She took a sip of wine. “What exactly is your plan here?”
“I’m moving back to New York. I’m moving in with Connor.”
Under the table, his hand found mine. I smiled at him, his return smile warm with affection.
“At least this one can cook and clean,” Dad muttered before shoving a perfect piece of steak in his mouth.
“Don’t you think that’s moving too fast?” my mother said, swirling her nearly empty wine glass, a flush climbing up her neck.
My lips parted, but the defenses got stuck in my throat.
“Are you serious?” Teresa interjected, speaking my thoughts into words. “I moved in with him after a coffee date. I knew him foran hourand lived with him for months, and you never had a problem with that. So you’re fine with me being his roommate but not Hannah being his girlfriend?”
“Well you weren’t—” Dad paused, gesturing between Connor’s hand, interlaced with mine. “You paid rent. You weren’t living off his charity.”
“God, I’m not putting up with this bullshit anymore,” Teresa said, standing up. “Thanks for dinner, Connor. Let’s go, Eddie.”
After Teresa grabbed their jackets and slammed the door, the apartment went silent except for the ticking of Connor’s kitchen timer and the ringing in my ears. I stared at my plate as the bestmeal I’d ever eaten suddenly felt like it was going to come right back up. Connor’s posture was stiff beside me, his jaw tight.
Mom cleared her throat. “She was always so dramatic.”
I blinked in silent disbelief that she could somehow turn herself into the martyr in this situation.
“So, Connor, what do you do for work?” Mom asked.
“I’m the COO at The Sinclair Group. We’re a real estate investment firm based in Manhattan.”
Mom’s entire demeanor shifted. “That’s impressive. And you’ll be able to support our daughter as she continues to… figure things out.”
My face went hot. “That’s not fair. I have an interview next week.”
Dad nearly choked on his steak, taking a gulp of red wine to get it down.
I hadn’t intended to tell them, not until I knew one way or the other. When I’d first moved home, I’d told my parents about every application I submitted, like I could prove to them that I was working hard on my applications… but then I’d also had to relay every rejection and lack of response.
And now I just made the same fucking mistake.
“Anywhere we’ve heard of?" Dad straightened, hoping for something to brag about. "A Big Four firm this time?”
Connor’s hand found my thigh under the table, a gentle squeeze of reassurance. I sipped my wine for liquid courage, then met Dad’s eyes. “The Sinclair Group.”
“The Sinclair Group,” Dad repeated and I braced myself for impact, feeling like a punch was coming in slow motion, but it was too late to avoid it. “With your boyfriend. Of course. Once again, you got the interview by sleeping your way to the top.”
The air left my lungs with a ragged gasp.
