“Oh, thank goodness.” Her mother scurried down the marble staircase to Marlee. “You’re here.” She wrapped Marlee in an Elizabeth Arden–scented hug. “We’ve been so worried.”
Her mom was more casual than a lot of their society friends. Still, casual for her mom meant a nice pair of pressed slacks and a matching blouse. Tonight, the set was pastel blue and accompanied by a set of pearl earrings and her standard string of Jackie O–inspired pearls.
“Marlee.” Her dad emerged from the hallway leading to the kitchen. He hugged her as well. His starched button-up shirt and slacks would’ve been formal for most, but these were his lounging clothes. The ones he wore around the house. At work, it was always a full suit and tie. “You haven’t answered our calls.”
They must’ve been genuinely concerned, since neither of them gave a second glance to Lothario, who was clearly feeling the sting of that rejection given the look on his little chihuahua face.
“Is that why you turned off my credit cards?” Marlee appreciated their concern—really, she did. She also wished they would have given her the time and space to come on her own.
“We had multiple reasons for that.” Her mom worried at her bottom lip. “We think you and Scotty made a mistake. This is one of those times a little communication can go a long way. Come, let’s talk in the kitchen.”
All the communication in the world wasn’t going to fix what was broken between Marlee and Scotty. Her parents flanked her as they crossed their arms behind her and scooted her forward down the hall. Lothario thumped behind them.
It was Italian night in the house. If she had to guess, her dad had made his famous saltimbocca. One of her favorite meals. Chicken breast that practically melted in the mouth with parmesan and mozzarella and prosciutto de parma. Absolutely divine.
At least, if she had to face their reasons for cutting her off, she’d be well fed.
Her dad loved to cook and took every opportunity he could to practice his kitchen skills. Most of the time, they had an on-staff chef because he worked so much, but cooking was one of his favorite things. Some men took up golf—like Scotty—but her dad loved to cook. He and Eli would probably get along famously if they gave each other a shot.
Marlee hadn’t gotten the culinary gene, given her propensity to burn anything that came within ten feet of the stove. Microwave popcorn, she could handle. Toast in the toaster, a pretty safe bet. Anything else? Yeah, no.
They rounded the Grecian column marking the kitchen entrance.
Scotty sat at a barstool noshing away on prosciutto and chicken.
Marlee’s stomach seemed to lurch to the left, her appetite totally gone. He was supposed to be on a beach somewhere far, far from here.
“No.” Marlee started to step backward. “This is not going to happen. Ever.”
“We asked Scotty to come back so you two can work through whatever this thing is that’s gone wrong,” her father said.
Scotty dabbed at the right side of his mouth with a white linen napkin. He looked her over head to toe.
“He told you he was going to break up with me, and you didn’t mention it.” Marlee pulled away from her parents. “He broke off the wedding, and you sent him to the tropics.”
“I never thought he’d actually be stupid enough to go through with it.” Dad glared daggers at Scotty.
Scotty flinched.
“Blowing off steam before a wedding is one thing,” her mother said. “This is something else.”
“This is called a breakup.” Marlee glanced up to where her mom stood on her left.
“Leelee.” Her nickname was rough against Scotty’s vocal cords.
He said nothing more, which was perfect. There wasn’t anything more to say.
“The whole family just needs to talk.” Her dad reached for her and gave her a side squeeze.
That was all great, but Scotty wasn’t technically family. Given his recent decision to cancel the wedding, he’d never be part of the family.
She waited for the sinking feeling to come back—the sadness of years lost, of kids that would never burst through the door of their grandparents’ house... An abandoned future. It didn’t come. Instead, she wished Eli was with her. If anything, to make Scotty squirm. More because instinct told her he’d have her back.
“If this is a family meeting, I’ll ask, why is Scotty here?” she asked.
Scotty grimaced. “There’s no need to be mean.”
He was totally right. He didn’t deserve any emotion from her. Not even anger.
