“Alone? Where’s her family?”
I take a long sip of my coffee before explaining, “She doesn’t have a good relationship with her parents. The last time she saw them, they wound up in a huge fight and they said some pretty bad things to her. She’s going back to see them for dinner on Christmas Eve, and I told her that I would go with her.”
“Oh. So, when are you coming home?”
“We’re gonna drive down on Christmas, so I won’t be there in the morning with the kids,” I tell her, feeling a little guilty that I won’t be there when they wake up.
“They’ll understand. I’ll talk to them,” she assures me. “I’m glad I finally get to meet this girl,” she says with excitement.
“Mom, she can be really shy,” I warn. “I know she’s gonna be overwhelmed with everyone at the house, and I don’t want to make it any more awkward for her if anything was to be insinuated. It’s just not that way with us.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” she teases, and I know she will be. “Well, I should run out and get her a little something.”
“No gifts.”
“It’s Christmas, Ryan,” she says, annoyed by my demand.
“She made me promise. Told me that gifts make her uncomfortable.”
“Ryan, how much do you know about this girl?” I can hear the uncertainty about Candace in her voice.
“Why?”
She lets out a heavy breath before saying, “It just sounds like she has some issues going on, and I wonder what you really know about her.”
I take a moment because all I want to do is defend this girl. Truth is, I know she has issues. I’m not blind to the odd behavior I catch glimpses of and the couple of things that Jase and Mark have said about her. But whatever is going on, I don’t think it could ever be enough to keep me away. So, I bypass my mom’s concerns and leave it at, “She’s special. I don’t know what’s going on with us, but she’s important to me.”
I can almost hear my mother’s smile when she says, “Well, then she’s important to me too.”
“She’s a good girl, but her walls aren’t that easy to break down.”
“Sometimes it isn’t about breaking walls, dear. Sometimes it’s simply about proving yourself to the other person that they’re willing to just let them down.”
My mom’s support is a constant in my life, and I’m grateful that I can depend on that from her.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Chapter Eighteen
There’s no doubt she’s nervous when she gets into my car and I start driving up to Shoreline to her parents’ house. She doesn’t speak as she sits there, looking all proper in her plum, knee-length dress and black high heels. She hardly ever wears jewelry or makeup, she doesn’t need to—she’s perfect. But I don’t like seeing her so worried.
“Relax,” I tell her.
“Ryan. You need to know that—”
“Candace, relax.”
“They’re just very judgmental people,” she warns.
“There is nothing that they can say that I haven’t heard before,” I tell her. If anyone can deal with people who degrade you, it’s me. I spent my whole childhood listening to a father telling me, every way he could, what a piece of shit I was. I’m sure I can handle whatever it is I’m about to walk into. But it isn’t me I’m worried about, it’s her.
When I pull into the gates of The Highlands, an upscale affluent community, I look over at Candace and lay my hand over the two of hers that are clenched tightly together. I weave through the neighborhood and when she points to the house, I pull into the drive and shut the car off. She doesn’t open the door or move in any way. She sits, and I let her take her time.
After a few moments pass, I ask, “You ready?”
“Yeah,” she sighs and then opens the door.
Walking up to the large, two-story home that overlooks the Sound, she takes a deep breath before opening the front door. We walk in, and I take in my surroundings. I knew that she came from money—I do too—but there’s a big difference between affluent and wealthy. This is wealth.
“Bunny,” her father beams as he walks through the foyer with his arms out to pull her into a hug. From his demeanor, you would never expect the family drama that lies underneath the surface. My father was the same way. No one would ever suspect the violent man that he was behind closed doors.
He takes a step back from Candace and turns to me. He wears a tailored charcoal suit and has almost polished, silver hair. “And you must be Ryan. Thanks for joining us,” he says to me, shaking my hand.
“Good to meet you, sir.”
“Come in,” he says as he leads us back through the formal living room and into the kitchen. He turns to Candace, and tells her, “Your mother is finishing getting ready. She should be out shortly.”
She only smiles up at him.
“What can I get you two to drink?” he asks.
“A beer is good, Mr. Parker,” I say to him.
“Please, call me Charles.”
With drinks in hand we make our way back to their library that spans the two stories of the house with a large walk-in fireplace.
I sit next to Candace on the tucked leather couch as her father asks, “So, Ryan, what is it that you do?”
“I own a bar right off campus,” I tell him as Candace shifts nervously at my side.