She slipped her fingers into mine, and together, we walked in.
Her parents were waiting by the fireplace, stiff as mannequins, and her sister was perched on a leather-backed chair. I’d faced some rough crowds, but nothing made my palms sweat like being summoned into the Carvers’ mahogany mausoleum of a study. Her father’s eyes landed on me, the same eyes of the man who’d ordered my ribs cracked. Not a flicker of guilt. Pompous dick.
“Mother. Daddy.” Michelle said it like she was greeting royalty, not the people who’d raised her… and threatened to disown her. Her gaze cut to her sister, and the frown that followed made it clear the betrayal ran deep. “Melanie.”
They all offered equally as formal hellos. Painfully awkward. I squirmed for them.
“Surprised to see you back from New York,” Michelle said in a clipped tone.
“I never left.”
“How convenient for you.”
Lydia put a stop to the passive-aggressive banter. “Michelle, thank goodness you’re home. I don’t appreciate you not taking my call. Over a week with no contact. That’s unacceptable.”
Michelle ignored the reprimand and stood tall. She looked every bit like where she came from, but there was nothing fragile in the way she held herself. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
She angled slightly toward me. “This is Scott McKallister, my boyfriend. And these are my parents, Lydia and…” Her eyes settled on her father, and after an uncomfortable pause, she added, “Bill. But you’ve already met, haven’t you?”
If the silence in that room got any tighter, it would’ve snapped in half. Lydia’s lips thinned. Bill’s jaw flexed. If I didn’t know better, I might’ve felt sorry for them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Carver,” I managed, nodding like I hadn’t spent the past week and a half healing from their family’s version of hospitality. “And Melanie. Nice to finally meet you.”
“You too,” she replied, guilt flooding her eyes. “And… I’m sorry about—"
Lydia cut her off, her voice sharp and unforgiving. “Scott. Yes. A pleasure.”
“I’m sure it is,” I said.
Michelle’s hand brushed my arm before she turned back to them, wearing a defiant smile that said the old rules no longer applied.
“Fifteen thousand dollars? Really, Daddy? Is that all I’m worth to you?”
“I’d have paid more, darling, but he caved faster than I expected.”
“I took it to get you out of my apartment,” I said in defense.
“The point, Scott,” Lydia said. “Is that you took the money.”
“He ripped it up, Mother.” Michelle reached into her purse and pulled out the evidence. “See—two bloody halves. So no, he didn’t take the money. Like me, you weren’t able to buy him.”
Lydia’s lips pursed. “Yes, darling, your integrity is truly inspiring. All that time you were sneaking around with the surf instructor, you were doing it on our dime. And you’d still be swiping our credit card if I hadn’t canceled it. So please—don’t try to impress me with your righteousness.”
If looks could kill. It was like watching the politest fireworks show ever, and Michelle, yeah, she was expertly containing her fuse. “Yes, I used the credit card… to replace the broken items in Scott’s apartment and to cover the hospital costs of the beating you ordered. A bill should be coming shortly. But it’s the least you can do, considering Scott chose not to report you to the authorities.”
Bill was taken aback, more concerned about the money than the cops he could easily pay off. “How much was it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “And you owe Scott an apology.”
“I hardly think protecting our family needs an apology,” Lydia said, smoothly.
Michelle shut her down with a raised hand. “Look at him, Mother. This is twelve days of healing. What you did wasn’t protecting the family. It was brutality. So excuse me if I don’t care what you have to say anymore. And you…” she turned to Melanie, her eyes narrowing. “I told you about Scott in confidence. You’re supposed to be my sister. My best friend. I was going back to New York foryou. I hope tattling to Daddy was worth it, because now this life is yours alone. I’m done.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Lydia raised her voice. “No one is leaving this family.”
“Yes, actually, I am,” Michelle said, perfectly composed. “Just as soon as you write Scott another check.”
“What?” Bill bristled at the thought. “Absolutely not.”
