“You look beautiful,” I managed, stepping back to let her in.
“You clean up pretty well yourself.” Her gaze traveled over me appreciatively. “Though you always do. I’m beginning to think you sleep in tailored suits.”
“Only when it suits me.”
“Ha. Ha. I see what you did there,” she said, jabbing me in the stomach and grinning.
“Can I get you a drink before we go?”
“Nope. I’m starving and would definitely get tipsy a little too easily right now.”
“Okay.” I grabbed my keys and wallet from the entryway table. “Shall we?” I offered my elbow, and she took my arm.
The restaurant was everything I’d hoped for. Our table, reserved a week in advance, was positioned perfectly by the floor to ceiling windows with a view of the Chicago skyline. A single candle cast a warm glow over the white tablecloth.
“Wow,” Mari said as the hostess seated us. “You weren’t kidding about proper wining and dining.”
“I keep my promises.”
We ordered drinks—an old-fashioned for me, a specialty cocktail with elderflower and gin for Mari—and studied the menus in comfortable silence. When the server returned for our orders, Mari surprised me by choosing the same dish I’d been eyeing.
“Great minds,” she said with a wink when I commented on it.
“Or you saw me reading that section of the menu and copied me,” I teased.
“Please. If I were going to copy someone’s ideas, I’d pick someone more creative.”
The irony of her statement twisted my stomach. That was it—the perfect opening. I took a deep breath, preparing to launch into my confession.
“Mari, there’s something I need to tell you?—”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it.
“What is it?” she asked, her expression turning serious as she registered my tone.
“It’s about the Modern Wedding feature. About?—”
My phone buzzed again. Then a third time in rapid succession. Whoever was calling wasn’t giving up.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling out my phone to silence it. “Let me just?—”
My blood ran cold as I saw the notifications. Three texts from my mother:
Surprise, darling! We came early.
We’re at your apartment now. Where are you?
Hudson, it’s rude to keep your parents waiting. Call us immediately.
“Hudson? What’s wrong?” Mari’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“My parents,” I managed, my voice strangled. “They’re here. In Chicago. At my apartment. Now.”
“Now? I thought they weren’t coming until tomorrow.” She frowned, reaching across the table to touch my hand. “Hey, it’s okay. Just tell them you’re out to dinner.”
But it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. My parents were here early, standing in the apartment I’d just left with Mari, waiting to ambush me. The careful timeline I’d constructed—tell Mari tonight, deal with the fallout, then somehow prepare to face my parents—had just collapsed.
“I should call them,” I said, already dialing. “I’m sorry about this.”
