Plus, her father had been behaving so well tonight. A kiss on the cheek without all the unwelcome advice about her career. Angela and their mother had refrained from asking after Justine’s dreaded ex, whom they’d all liked. And even Scott—Angela’s husband—had been pleasant at first greeting instead of treating her like a wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Then the proverbial sound of trumpets heralded the coming apocalypse—the dinner bell and forced conversation.
“That’s the timer,” her mother cheerfully announced, as if she’d cooked their meal. The catering staff came out moments later with their salads and wine.
Used to fancy dinners where the caterers came and went, Justine didn’t think much of her parents’ wealth. They hadn’t been born rich. They’d had to work for it. But somehow, raising their three children, they’d forgotten how the average person lived. Something she knew quite well, living independently, and appreciated.
Justine made her own choices about life, living like a pauper, yes, but on her own two feet. Unlike her sisters, who didn’t hurt financially but also had to obey their parents in regards to their professional and personal lives or be threatened to be cut off.
“Thanks for coming Cal, Nick,” her father said in a booming voice before shooting her an expectant look.
“So glad for the invite, Mr. Ferrera.” Cal—Bachelor Number One—said.
“Yes, thank you,” came from Nick—Bachelor Number Two.
The pair had dark hair, similar builds, and politeness swimming in their DNA.
“We always love having Dad’s people for a visit,” Justine agreed and gave the perfunctory fake smile, which eased the grim expression on her father’s face. He turned to Scott and started on the finance talk, including Cal and Nick. Not to beignored, Angela put her two cents in whenever a lull fell, and the dinner passed pleasantly enough.
A Seattle Surf and Turf platter—King Salmon and Kobe filet—sat in the middle of the table filled with mashed potatoes, rice pilaf, asparagus, roasted beets with goat cheese drizzled with a dark vinaigrette, honey glazed carrots, and a few more delectable dishes that made Justine drool. Heck, she hadn’t been eating this well in...well, since the last time she’d been to the house.
She concentrated on her meal, doing her best not to fall on it like a starving woman, and gave occasional murmurs of interest when Mallory gushed over wedding plans.
Fortunately, Ted seemed more interested in her father’s conversation than his fiancée’s, so she was able to ignore him.
Midway through the meal, Cal and Nick began talking to her more, asking more personal questions.
“Oh, she’s single,” her mother sang, having apparently paid more attention to Justine than she’d thought. “She broke up with her ex-boyfriend a while ago.”
Officially, two weeks ago. But technically, they’d been over long before that.
“Mom,” Justine growled.
“Oh, honey, you know you’re over him.”
“I am, but this isn’t something we need to be talking about over dinner.”
Ted snorted. “You’re too good for him. You’ll find someone else.”
Mallory beamed up at her fiancé. “She is, Ted. You’re so right.”
“I’m not looking for anyone else.” Justine fought to keep her voice pleasant while refusing to look at the men on either side of her. “I’m happy living on my own and being single.”
“Good for you,” Cal said, surprising her. “So many people jump from one relationship to the next. My brother did that. Married too quickly and is getting divorced next month.”
“Bummer.” Nick shook his head. “But I don’t think being with someone is a bad thing. You get all the feels and meet needs. Take the financial aspect, for instance.”
Her father leaned in, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, let’s talk about financial stability, Nick. Go on.”
Justine swallowed a sigh and took a long sip of her wine while Nick and her father traded common investment strategies overlooked by most of the workforce. Then Angela explained how she and Scott had been saving, which had Ted asking more questions and Mallory trying to keep up while their mother glowed with approval.
Keeping quiet felt safe, so Justine finished her meal then excused herself for a side trip upstairs, needing a break. She dialed Katie but had to leave a voice message. In a low voice, she said, “The next time I even think about going to my parents for Sunday dinner, tie me up and shove me in my closet. Ring me later. Gotta go.”
She heard Mallory calling for her and quickly pocketed her phone. “I’m coming. Just had to respond to a message.”
“What message?” Mallory entered the hallway where Justine had been hiding. Like her sisters, Mallory had dark hair and dark eyes. Pretty, she and Angela took after their mother, their looks softer, whereas Justine had the eagle eyes and features of her father. Which was a joke, because clearly Angela was more bird of prey and Justine more chicken.
“Oh, nothing important. Just something Katie sent.”
