Page 122 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

“I made fajitas,” Mrs. Monroe announced, looking over at Ivory. “Since they’re your favorite.”

“Aw, thanks,” Ivory replied as her eyes lit up. She went to the first row of cupboards and retrieved some glasses, so he followed behind to help.

“When do I get my favorite meal?” Brey grumbled, emerging from his room.

Adrian reached over for a glass, but Ivory swatted away his hand. “You’re the guest, silly.”

He opened his mouth in protest, but then another door opened, and a deep voice called out from down the hall, “I hear my favorite daughter is back.”

Ivory grinned as she turned around. “I’m your only daughter, Dad.”

Immediately, Adrian recognized the man’s green eyes and oval face—a harder, older version of Ivory. He wore jeans and a loose button-up, average-looking but replicating Ivory’s signature kindness as she turned into his outstretched arms.

When they finished, he turned to Adrian. “Nice to meet you. I’m glad Ivory decided to introduce us.”

His tone held none of the poorly concealed judgment that Ivory’s mother had implied, and Adrian accepted his hearty handshake. “The pleasure is mine.”

“All right, food’s hot and ready,” Mrs. Monroe announced. “Let’s eat.”

They all took seats around the table, him and Ivory on one side, with her parents on the other and Brey at one end. The food tasted delicious, a high compliment considering he’d grown used to his sister’s cooking. Once the conversation turned to him, he could only get a bite in every so often as he answered the usual questions.

“Psychology…do you plan to get your doctorate?” Mrs. Monroe inquired.

He laughed and set down his fajita. “Right now, I’m just trying to get through my bachelor’s.”

She frowned. “A bachelor’s in psychology can only go so far. Ivory’s high school sweetheart is going to Harvard, you know.”

He froze, biting back the remark that comment deserved.

“Mom,” Ivory scolded with a mortified expression. “He’s my ex! And I couldn’t care less about him being at Harvard.”

“I just don’t see how you can go from someone like that to someone like this,” Mrs. Monroe replied.

Adrian bristled. Her parents had no right to dismiss him or push their daughter onto someone she didn’t want, but he held his tongue. It wasn’t the time to interfere just yet. Whatever Mrs. Monroe thought of him needed to come out eventually. Nothing good would happen if it didn’t get addressed.

Ivory’s fork clattered to her plate. “Someone like what? Someone who I chose to be with instead of someone you pre-approved?”

“Someone who’s a distraction,” Mrs. Monroe replied, picking at her salad and keeping her tone level as if she’d said nothing wrong. “I didn’t send you to school to go party and fall for some wannabe biker who won’t be able to support you.”

Ivory’s jaw dropped. Adrian straightened, preparing to intervene.

“Let it go, Mom,” Brey sighed. “No one cares about that stuff but you.” He took his plate to the sink and left the table, then retreated into his room.

Stony silence fell over the group as Ivory stared down at her food. Her parents shared a subtle look, and Adrian cleared his throat. “Mrs. Monroe, I’ll be the first to admit Ivory deserves the world. Let me make it clear that I wouldn't be here if I wasn’t willing to support her in every way.” He met her eyes. “Maybe you should do the same.”

She met his gaze as he continued, “I also know for a fact she’s as smart as you say she is, and Ivory is more than capable of deciding how and with whom to spend her time. She’s done nothing but her best. You, of all people, should recognize that.”

Ivory’s knee bumped his under the table, and when he looked over, a blush had crept over her face. She shouldn’t look so surprised. There were a thousand more things he could say, a thousand reasons to prove exactly how amazing she was.

Mrs. Monroe opened her mouth, then closed it as Ivory’s father placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke in her place. “I think enough has been said. Why don’t we let the topic cool off for now? Ivory isn’t a little girl anymore, and we’ve barely gotten to know Adrian. Give it some time.” He said something about taking care of the dishes, and Mrs. Monroe excused herself to check on the laundry.

“I’m sorry,” Ivory mumbled after they were alone, deflated.

He reached over and grabbed her hand, hating how dejected she looked as he rubbed slow circles on her skin with the pad of his thumb. “Better sooner than later.”

“She’ll come around.” Mr. Monroe sighed as he returned to the dining room. “Once the stubbornness fades, she’s not all that bad.” He sat back down and grabbed a second serving. “And I’ll talk to her.”

“It’s fine, Dad.” Ivory picked up her food and slowly finished eating.

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