“Roxanne—”
“Ledger,” she cut in, her voice sharp, a warning. “My parents are not like other people.”
I looked over at her, the outline of her profile the only thing I could make out in the dark. “They’re people,” I argued.
“They’rewealthypeople,” she corrected. “With opinions.”
“So?” I mocked. “And I’m poor … with opinions. What’s the difference?”
She pressed her lips together. “You can’t antagonize them.”
“I’m not antagonizing anyone.”
“You antagonize by breathing.”
“That feels exaggerated,” I huffed
I could practically feel the frustration radiating off of her.
“You can’t just glare at my parents,” Roxie said, propping herself up on one elbow. “They’ll read into that.”
“I don’t glare,” I shot back. “I observe.”
And really, I only glared at her, and yeah, I would probably glare at her parents too. But hey, what’s the difference between me giving them a glare when they’ll be looking at me full of judgment?
She made a noise that sounded a lot like disbelief. “Ledger, my mother will interpret ‘observing’ as contempt.”
“I don’t care what she interprets,” I said, sharper than I meant to. “I’m not auditioning for their approval.”
She turned fully toward me now, her curls falling over one shoulder in a way that was frankly distracting. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s spent her entire adult life being told she could do better.”
Her words brushed against my skin, rubbing me the wrong way.
“Do better than me?” I asked before I could stop myself.
The streetlight coming in illuminated her eyes, widened slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Sounded like it.”
Because I’d heard that line before.
From an ex who’d smiled apologetically whileexplaining that love wasn’t always enough. That ambition mattered. That security mattered. That someday I’d understand whypotentialdidn’t pay bills or buy peace of mind.
She hadn’t saidyou’re not good enoughoutright, but she’d said everything around it. And I’d learned the translation by heart.
She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. “This is exactly why I’m trying to give you pointers. This isn’t about you not being good enough.”
“Funny,” I said flatly. “That’s usually what it’s about.”
Her expression softened for half a second, like she wanted to reach for something she couldn’t quite grab.
Then she pulled back, the pillow between us shifting as she moved, her knee brushing the edge of it. Close enough that I felt the heat of her skin through the sheet.
My concentration splintered.
Which only made me more irritable.
“I just want this to go smoothly,” she said. “For both of us.”
