I ambled toward the hall. Soren looped an arm around my shoulder, guiding me through the doorway.
"You're dead on your feet."
"I'm fine," I grumbled.
"Is that why you almost just walked into a wall?"
I snorted under my breath but didn't argue with him. I leaned into his hold, trusting him to guide me. When he jolted to a sudden stop, I opened my eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked, looking up at him.
He nodded toward the other end of the hallway. I wasn't sure what—or who—I was expecting to find when I looked over, but it certainly hadn't been my parents.
Pat and Melanie Lynn Myers in the flesh. Dressed to the nines, as per usual. Because, to quote my mama,"You never knew who might be watching."
"Mama."
"Clarke," Mama said coldly, clutching her purse tight. "You look well."
"I am, thank you." I swallowed. "Hi, Daddy."
"Clarke."
They spoke as if I were a thorn in their sides—an inconvenience—rather than their daughter. I'd seen them make better pleasantries with busboys at the annual holiday party.
Soren nudged my back. I knew he meant it more as a comforting gesture, but it would've been rude not to introduce them.
"Oh! This is my . . . Soren."
"Soren Sinclair," he said, stepping forward to offer his hand. "Pleased to meet you both. You've got one hell of a daughter here."
My eyes bounced between Mama and Daddy, silently pleading with them to do the right thing.For once.She turned her nose up at Soren's grass-stained uniform. Daddy's eyes lingered on the tattoos creeping out of his jersey. Neither of them made a move to shake his hand.
After a moment, Soren withdrew, resting his arm awkwardly at his side. The old Clarke would have left it at that. She would have kept her mouth shut—like she had been taught—and avoided rocking the boat. But a lot had changed in the last few months. I had friends now, family, a community that loved me. Unconditionally. Even when the people who were supposed to didn't.
Mama's eyes narrowed with disdain when I laced my fingers through Soren's.
"You've got a beautiful granddaughter," I told them. When neither of them responded, I kept talking. "Seven pounds, eight ounces. She's got curly blonde hair, and—"
"Enough."
I blinked, taken aback by Mama's icy tone.
"When are you going to end this farce and come back home? Back to your family, to Walden?"
"Mama, Walden cheated on me." Soren squeezed my hand, anchoring me down. Not back, down. "He's dating some nineteen-year-old sorority girl. I saw it on Instagram."
"He's just sowing his oats. Having fun." She lifted a brow at my and Soren's clasped hands. "It seems like he isn't the only one."
"Melanie," my father's baritone voice boomed. "We have to get going if we're going to make our flight to Texas."
"Texas?" I asked. "Does that mean the Dallas deal went through?"
"Yes, the grand opening is next week."
The Myers Hotel Group was the fastest growing hotel and spa chain in the Mid-Atlantic. For the last few years, they had been desperately trying to expand west, and from the sound of it, things were working out exactly as they wanted. As per usual.
"I wish you would have told me."
