That landed harder than it should have. “He’s brave, and strong, and a brilliant father, and has more integrity than half the men in this city,” I said quietly.
My mother’s expression flickered with concern. “I don’t doubt his character. I doubt the imbalance. You can fix everything with money, and have you thought that maybe he knows who you are and he’s seeing a blank check?”
I wanted to slam the phone down, but that wasn’t fair on me or my blossoming relationship with Morgan. “He doesn’t want me fixing anything. He doesn’t want my money. And I won’t end this because it makes someone out there uncomfortable,” I said.
My mother’s voice softened. “We don’t want you embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“We don’t want you used.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“And if you find out he is using you?” she pressed. “You won’t just lose a relationship. You’ll lose reputation.”
I sighed. “I would rather lose reputation,” I said evenly, “than lose peace.”
That was the first time they looked uncertain.
“You really like him,” Mother said, and glanced at Father who was actually listening now.
“I do. I really do. I have to go, Mother. I have a meeting.”
“Goodbye, sweetheart,” she said, and Father nodded.
Then, with two hours yet before the meeting I stood in front of the mirror too long. That was the problem. Not the mirror itself—just me, staring at my own reflection as if it might tell me what the hell to do. Jeans and a shirt lay folded on the bed behind me. Dark denim. Clean. Casual. The version of me that said I was just some guy showing up to a meeting. On the hanger by the door: my suit. Not just any suit. Tailored. Italian wool. The kind of thing people noticed even when they pretended not to. The kind of thing that announced who I was before I ever opened my mouth.
I rubbed a hand over my face.
“Don’t overthink this,” I muttered to myself, which obviously meant I was already overthinking it.
I dialed for help and Rowan answered on the second ring.
“If you’re calling to ask me to bury a body, I need at least thirty minutes’ notice,” she joked.
“What do I wear?” I asked.
She paused. “… Wow. Okay. This is serious.”
I glanced back at the mirror. Same guy. Same problem. “Meeting with Gabbi’s grandparents. Annie’s parents. Morgan asked me to be in there.” I exhaled. “Jeans and a shirt, or the suit?”
“Which suit?” she asked.
“Thesuit.”
She made a low sound. “You don’t mean the?—”
“I mean the one that screams old money knows old money.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Before I answer that—why are you spiraling?”
I hesitated, jaw tightening. “Because he said he didn’t want them knowing who I am.”
“Did he say those words,” Rowan asked, calm but firm, “or did he say something you translated badly?”
I closed my eyes. Replayed it. Morgan’s voice. Careful. Honest.
We don’t need them to know who you are.
