Page 113 of True Colors

“Maybe some personal, too,” Mom drawls. “I met her parents in New York a couple of weeks ago, and they’re still hoping you and Erin will get back together.”

My eyes narrow with barely contained irritation. “Get back together?”

Dad shrugs. “Well, you dated once and now you work⁠—”

“We dated in college, Dad. That was a hundred years ago.”

Fuck!

I should’ve been more careful. Erin all but told me that she’d like us to be a couple again. I should’ve suspected her motives about Anouk after that, especially when she told me she knew we were dating.

“Does she know about you and Anouk?” Mom always could nail the bullseye in a pub even after three beers.

“Yeah.”

My parents both purse their lips and nod, their expressions saying: “Son, you’re a dumbass.”

“Tell me about Anouk,” Mom asks softly.

And I do. I tell her everything. Her parents. Finn. Dot. I don’t curate one single thing.

When I finish, my mother is quiet for a long moment and then says sadly, “Oh, Luther. That poor girl.”

“I love her,” I say hoarsely.

“I know.” Her expression softens.

I scrub a hand over my face. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

She tilts her head. “Who said you get to fix it?”

I groan. “You sound like Ria now.” I turn to Dad. “You agree?”

“Son.” Dad’s expression lightens with amusement. “I’ve screwed up so many times with your mother that I’m lucky she still talks to me, so I’m not the right person for you to seek advice from.”

I fling my hands up in the air. “Great!”

Mom smacks the back of my head gently. “You don’t repair harm by making the other person feel better. You repair it by changing behavior. Even if they never forgive you.”

“That’s what Ria said.” I drain my whiskey.

“She’s right.” Dad toasts us with his drink.

“Oh, please, like you know what I’m talking about,” Mom scoffs. “You think you can buy me a Cartier something and everything will be fine.”

“Does that work?” I ask eagerly.

Mom sighs loudly. “No, Luther, it doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” I mumble. And in any case, Anouk isn’t the type who will be swayed by material things.

“Luther.” Dad sounds serious now. “You win her back with integrity, which you sacrificed in the name of your career.”

Mom finishes her champagne and sets the glass down. “You need to have another meeting anyway, especially after the clusterfuck you had today. Let her present.”

I bob my head in agreement. “I’m afraid, though, that she may not want to present. That she’ll see it as a…I don’t know, a consolation prize.”

“Is it?” Mom challenges.