I draw a deep breath and turn to see my parents, along with Preston and my grandmother, standing in front of us.
Maddox draws me more firmly to his side, staking his claim and being in my corner. It’s all I’ve ever wanted from someone important in my life, and here he is, sensing my need and stepping up to provide it.
This is it. Time to stand up for myself, or my life will never be my own.
Since Preston’s visit to the bar, my parents turned suspiciously silent. No more voicemails or texts. I had a feeling they were biding their time until ready to strike. I tried to convince myself that I was ready for any upcoming confrontation. After all, what more could they do to hurt me? They already cut me off financially, and there was no emotional connection in any of my childhood memories.
I pull my shoulders back, facing my mother. My father stands by his wife’s side while my grandmother leans on her colorful cane, no doubt waiting for the fireworks. Annabelle winks at me, confirming my suspicions.
“Who told you where I was?” I ask my parents, then turn my gaze to Preston. “Was it you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” My father lets out a huff of annoyance. “What does matter is that the entire country club is talking about you slumming at this bar, cleaning dirty glasses and serving alcohol.” The disgust in his tone is evident.
Maddox grips me tighter but remains silent. He’s trusting me to handle things, and I’m grateful.
“The only thingthattells me is someone in your crowd was here too, which makes any comment about this establishment hypocritical,” I say.
My father takes one step forward, but Maddox puts a hand out, stopping him from moving closer. My father clenches his jaw but doesn’t say a word to him. Yet. No doubt his judgment is coming.
“What are you wearing in public?” my mother asks, her eyes wide, lips parted, her expression horrified.
I glance down and shrug. “Clothes.”
“Workout clothes,” Annabelle adds. “Don’t you keep up with trends, Madeline?”
“Mother!” Aaron snaps. “Stay out of this. Now, Gabriella, we’re leaving tonight and you’re coming with us.”
I blink in surprise. “You usually stay for the season. Why are you leaving when your summer isn’t over?”
“Preston isn’t leaving, we are. But he wanted to be here. We are all tired of this rebellious phase. It’s gone on long enough. Playing house with this…this…” My father stumbles over his words to describe Maddox.
“Bar manager and independent contractor?” I deliberately needle my parents with words they’ll find cringeworthy. “Oh, and I wonder if Preston mentioned that Maddox used to work on Wall Street? I believe you know of my father, Aaron Davenport, right, Maddox?”
Preston narrows his gaze but smartly remains silent.
I glance up at Maddox, hoping he knows I’m doing this performance for myself, yes but also forus. After this, my parents will leave me alone and that is exactly what I want.
“Yes.” Maddox nods. “I used to work at Preston Barrett Jr.’s firm.” He doesn’t elaborate further, nor do I need him to.
My father stares, assessing Maddox. “It doesn’t matter what he does for a living. You are not going to continue living with him.” He turns his angry gaze on me. “Yes, I heard that, too. And I won’t have it. I’m not funding this vacation.” My father’s voice rises, and people around us turn to watch.
My face burns with embarrassment, but I’m determined to see this through. “I don’t need your money. You cut me off weeks ago, and I’ve done just fine.”
“You cannot make enough money cleaning up at this bar to live in the Hamptons,” my mother says, her blue eyes staring at me, daring me to disagree.
Madeline is in for a shock. “Then it’s a good thing I have a job at the gallery since my work here is for free. I help out when things are busy.”
Maddox squeezes my waist. Tipping his head, he whispers, “We’ll need to get you on the books.”
I stifle a laugh at his timing.
“But…” My mother pauses, caught off guard, then seems to collect herself. “Even gallery work won’t keep you in the lifestyle you’re accustomed to, Gabriella.”
“Then it’s a good thing I don’t want that life.”
My mother waves a dismissive hand. “That’s easy to say now.”
Preston turns to my mother. “Don’t worry. Give her more time and she’ll change her mind when she gets tired of living like a peasant.”
