A long time ago, Dad announced he’d lost his job at the table during dinner. His eyes had been glazed with stress, Mom patted his hand in comfort, and I stared at them wondering what that even meant for us since Mom didn’t work.
And I’ll never forget the time they gave me the dreaded sex talk at that very same piece of furniture when I started dating Fulton Ramsay. I’m not sure if their intention was to scare me from having it, but it worked. Especially when my father said the word ‘condom’ and my mother told me I should go on birth control.
I’d like to think that the room venue means this won’t be as bad as I assumed it would, but I know the real truth is that Dad twisted his ankle and has to prop it up on his recliner with an ice pack on it.
“Did you see a doctor?” I ask, staring at the swelling on his foot.
Garrick shifts beside me on the couch, eyes roaming to my father’s injury as well. He offered a hand in greeting when my father approached him outside, and Dad may have been reluctant, but he still shook it. Mom and I gawked. Dad grunted something and limped back inside with all of us following.
It’s been quiet since.
“No,” is all he says.
“Oh.” A few more seconds pass uncomfortably quiet before I add, “Maybe you should, just so you’re certain there’s not a break.”
Mom cuts in, a hand wrapped tightly around her cup of tea. “It’s just sprained.”
I nod slowly, not bothering to ask how they know, and trailing my eyes down to the new carpet they had installed within the last few years.
Garrick nudges my leg with his, letting me know he’s there for me. It’s him who addresses the elephant in the room. “I understand if you’re upset with us because my mother wasn’t very pleased when she found out about our marriage either.”
Both my parents stare at him with unblinking, unreadable expressions. It makes it hard to swallow, but Garrick takes it in stride like it doesn’t faze him. “I’ll take care of your daughter, help her through what’s to come by being attached to me, and we’ll be safe.”
My face heats over his version of safe and the one I’m clearly thinking of that must have been front and center in my mind from PTSD of that safe sex talk all those years ago.
Dad clears his throat. “What hurt us more,” he declares, looking only at me, “is that we found out online. Not by you. Your mother was upset you didn’t even tell her you were seeing anyone, much less…” His eyes go to Garrick for a moment, his lips twitching downward.
There isn’t disapproval on his face necessarily, but he definitely doesn’t approve either. Unless Garrick can prove otherwise, he’ll be Switzerland about it while Mom takes lead on how she feels about our situation.
I sink into the couch cushion. “It happened so suddenly I barely had time to process myself.”
Mom shifts toward me, one of her hands reaching out to find Dad’s beside her. “You never liked talking to me about boys. Did you not trust me enough to ask for advice? Or to vent? To at least tell me what their names were?”
Internally, I groan, side-eying my husband whose brows are raised as he scopes out my face. I ignore his curiosity and direct my attention fully at my mom. “It isn’t like I dated that often. There were only a few guys.”
“And you only told us about Fulton.”
Gee, I wonder why. “None of them were serious anyway,” I counter.
She sighs, setting her cup down on the table next to her recliner. “Apparently, the seriousness of a relationship doesn’t matter considering you got married without so much as saying a word about it.”
I’m at a stalemate when Garrick cuts back in, reaching out and taking my hand. “It’s my fault, Mrs. Simmons.”
Unlike his mother, she doesn’t tell him to call her by her first name. A thought I bury for now to overthink about later when I’m alone.
My husband interlocks our fingers. “It was a whirlwind romance that we both got swept away in, and I know how the media works, how the press and paparazzi would have dissected every little thing about us before Rylee could truly give me a chance. The second I saw your daughter I knew what I wanted.”
To my horror, Dad grumbles, “I’m sure you did” just loud enough for all of us to hear.
“Dad!”
Mom hides a smile, Garrick tries to fake a cough to cover his surprised laugh, and I gape at my parents with what I imagine is red tinting my whole face that matches the color of the flower painting hanging on the wall.
Subconsciously, my nails dig into Garrick’s hand until he wiggles it loose and flexes. When I look down, I see the crescent marks left behind on his skin. “Sorry,” I murmur.
He pats my knee. “Rylee has had to endure a lot as soon as the news came out, as I’m sure you’ve seen, and I knew if we announced it sooner we would have been harassed for far longer. It’s not a good excuse, and I’m sorry that we hurt you and my mother. I felt it was best, and Rylee went along with it because I’ve been in this business long enough to know how it works.”
I can’t help but look at him, awe sprinkled into my overheated face. He says it so simply, so calmly. Like I almost believe it when he says, “I care about Rylee very, very much, and I would hate to see anything happen to her. You’ve raised a lovely woman. She keeps me on my toes,
