“Nice to officially meet you,” I say. “Thanks for the other night.” Karson’s spine stiffens in my peripherals.
Owen nods. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He slaps Kellen on the back, and the two turn to exit the restaurant.
Karson shifts in the booth, giving Cole a pointed stare. Cole’s hands raise in surrender and he stands.
“Consider me gone,” he rolls his eyes, “See ya, Ash.”
I wave at him, and the waitress reappears to take our order. My phone vibrates again, this time I flip it over, my shoulders dropping when I see the text preview on the screen.
Melissa
We’ve secured your seat for the Children’s Legacy Gala this Friday. Please confirm your attendance.
Your father and I would hate to have to reconsider the financial arrangements in place.
Of fucking course.
Letting out a sigh, I flip the device back over a little too roughly. I’ll deal with that after food. I snort at the irony. Them hosting a gala to show off as the saints who fund foster homes?
“Pricks,” I mumble.
“Who was that?” Karson asks, his eyes watching me intently.
“Melissa,” I clip, taking a sip of my water the waitress dropped off.
His eyebrows pull together. “Who’s Melissa?”
“If you ask her? My mother.”
He pauses, confusion flickering in his gaze. It vanishes in a millisecond.
“Is everything okay?”
I huff.
Nope.
“Yeah, she just expects me to be at an event she and her husband are hosting on Friday. I’ve kind of skipped the last three.” I shrug, and give the waitress my food order when shereturns again. Karson does the same, his attention quickly back on me when she leaves.
“So, we’ll go.”
My heart pounds in my ears and I blink at him.
“We?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Yeah. We.”
A hundred thoughts slam into each other. Melissa’s tight smile. Jack’s assessing stare. The way they parade me around as proof they’ve done something good in their lives. Bringing Karson into that house would be like a lit match to gasoline. Part of me hesitates.
The other part wants to watch it burn.
I lift my chin. “It’s black tie.”
The corners of his mouth curve slowly. Dangerous. “Good.”
My pulse kicks harder. He doesn’t ask if he’s invited or if they’ll approve. He’s already decided.
Picking up my glass again, I steady my voice. “They won’t like it.”
