“Everything okay?”
Mia bit her lower lip, “My mother called this morning.” Her tone was carefully neutral. “She wants me to bring you over for dinner. Apparently the barbecue wasn’t enough face time for her to properly interrogate you.”
I nodded, keeping my expression calm despite the immediate tightening in my chest at the memory of her mother’s thinly veiled barbs. “That’s fine. Just tell me when.”
Her eyebrows shot up, eyes widening in surprise. “Really? You’d go?”
“Of course.”
She huffed out a breath, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Are you sure? It seems like a lot to ask so soon after the barbecue from hell. And it’s not strictly wedding related.”
“I’m not busy,” I said simply. “And it’s what I agreed to. Though I should mention I’ll be away for a few days next week , but I have both weekends free, if that suits her schedule.”
“Oh, you’re going away?”
Was it my imagination, or was that a flash of disappointment I saw in her eyes?
“Yes. I’ll be back on Friday. So either this weekend or next works for me.”
“And you’re honestly sure this is okay?”
“Of course. Don’t stress about it, Mia. That’s the whole point of this arrangement.”
A smile bloomed across her face, transforming her features, making something in my chest clench painfully. The genuine relief in her expression, the glow in her eyes... it was almost too much to bear.
“I’ll let Mom know,” she said softly. “Thank you, Jack.”
MIA
The clink of silverware against my mom’s best china echoed in the pristine dining room, each sound amplified in the stifling silence. I pushed a roasted potato around my plate, feeling my mom’s eyes on me as surely as if she’d reached across the table and pinched my arm.
The six of us were arranged around my mother’s prized mahogany table like a stilted family portrait: Mom at one end and Ted at the other, with Megan and Charles sitting across from Jack and me.
“So Jack, Mia tells us you’re from Colorado originally?” Mom’s voice had that artificial brightness that made my stomach clench.
Jack nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I grew up there.”
“So your family are still there?”
“Yes.”
“How lovely.” Mom’s mouth twisted into a fake smile. “Do you visit them often?”
I felt Jack tense up as he answered. “Not as often as I should.”
“And what exactly do your parents do?” The question came from Charles.
“My father runs a private equity firm. My mother is on the board of several charitable organizations.”
Mom’s eyebrows shot up at this. “How fascinating,” she purred, suddenly much more engaged. “And you chose corporate rescue work instead of following your father into finance?”
“I did,” Jack’s tone gave nothing away, but there was no mistaking the tension rolling off him.
“Jack prefers building things up rather than tearing them down,” I interjected, feeling the need to rescue him, even though I wasn’t sure what from. “He’s incredible at what he does.”
“I’m sure he is, sweetie,” Mom said with a condescending smile that made my skin crawl. “It’s just unusual for someone from that background to choose a different path.”
Jack’s hand found mine under the table, his warm fingers wrapping around mine in a gentle squeeze. I squeezed right back.
