I could say nothing. Let Logan continue to defend us both. But for all my bravado, I’m shaking under the table—anger, yes, but something else too. The familiar panic of facing a problem I can’t solve. I’ve spent my whole life believing that if I justunderstandsomething well enough, I can fix it.
But there’s no algorithm for people like this. No data set for opponents who’ve been playing this game for generations.
I breathe slow. They want me to feel small. I won’t let them.
“Well then,” Caroline muses. “You must be very special, Audrey. Or very persistent.”
I set down my fork, my appetite completely gone. “With respect, Mrs. Whitman, I’m neither. I’m just someone who cares about your son.”
“‘Care’ is such a flexible word, though, isn’t it? People ‘care’ about all sorts of things. Money. Status. Access.” She waves a hand. “Not that I’m accusing you of anything. I’m simply noting that Logan has a great deal to offer, and it would be naïve to pretend that isn’t part of his appeal.”
“The only thing Logan has offered me is honesty. Everything else—the money, the status, the family name—is just noise.” I look at Logan, who looks like he’s about to snap. “He’s the appeal. All of him. Even the parts you seem determined to tear down.”
Silence falls over the table. Edmund and Caroline exchange a glance—the kind of wordless communication that comes from decades of marriage and shared cruelty.
“Well,” Edmund says finally. “You certainly have opinions.”
“I do. And I’m not going to apologize for them.”
“No one asked you to apologize, dear.” Caroline’s voice is ice. “We’re simply concerned for our son. He has a legacy to uphold, and when he’s done playing games on his little computers, he might tire of slumming it and settle for a mate of appropriate stock. I’m sure you understand.”
Logan is about to intervene again, but I touch him on the arm to let him know I’ve got this one as I look Caroline straight in the eye.
“I do understand. But you’re going to have to get used to disappointment.”
There’s a choking sound from Logan, part laugh and part gasp. Caroline’s smile sharpens so hard it could cut crystal.
Edmund steeples his fingers and regards me. “What about your ambitions, Audrey? Surely you understand that being with my son will upend any notions of an ordinary life?—”
“My ambitions are my own. I’m not here to pilot anyone else’s.”
“It sounds to me like you don’t fully grasp the level of expectation that comes with taking the Whitman name.”
“Who says I’m planning on taking the Whitman name?”
There’s a wet snap in the room, more felt than heard. The atoms in the air realign, every charged particle spinning, and I realize I’ve made the ancient mistake of matching violence with violence—only now my opponent is centuries of self-perpetuating Whitman entitlement.
“Well,” Edmund says, lips twitching. “That’s refreshingly modern.”
“It’s as modern as your questions are archaic. Logan and I aredating. You’re talking as if we came to you announcing our engagement.”
Caroline lets out a single, sharp laugh—the sound engineered to signal both relief and dismissal. “Well, that’s a relief,” she says, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “I’d hate to see Logan rushing into something, given his history of poor choices. We’d hate to see him make another one.”
“What are you talking about?” Logan says, irritation in his voice.
“I’m not a poor choice.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Oh my god. Enough.” Logan pushes back from the table, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Audrey, go upstairs. Wait for me in the apartment.”
I stare at him. “Logan?—”
“Please.” His voice is strained, barely controlled. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
I want to argue. I want to stay and fight, to defend both of us against these people who seem determined to pick us apart. But there’s something in his expression—a resolve I haven’t seen before—that makes me hesitate.
“OK,” I say quietly. I stand, placing my napkin on the table with as much dignity as I can muster. “Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Whitman. I now understand why Logan prefers my apartment over this…” I pause and look around. “Mausoleum.”
