Page 33 of The Fake Date Deal

“Oh, Eve!”

“We’re so sorry!”

“How have you been?”

A lump blocked my throat off and I couldn’t speak. I hugged back instead, panic draining away. Whatever this was, it wasn’t some intervention. They hadn’t come to blame me or drag me back. I pulled back, eyes wet.

“What are you doing here?”

Mother pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “We’re here for the opening. The museum wing? I wanted to boycott it, but your father?—”

He grunted. “I didn’t want to go, either, but I do business with his father. We didn’t speak to that boy. I assure you we snubbed him.”

I snickered without meaning to at that mental image, my parents both sweeping past Rafael, straight-backed, hard-eyed, noses in the air. I hoped the cameras had caught that. I hoped it went viral.

“What happened on your wedding day…” Father’s face darkened. “That man is a child. I promise you, had we known?—”

“It’s okay. It’s behind us.” I shook my head.

“Still, we blame ourselves. This wasn’t your fault.”

“When we didn’t hear from you—” Mother sniffed. “Gabriella said to be patient, but we couldn’t wait. We were so worried. We had to come up.”

I blinked back fresh tears. The way they were looking at me, worried, sad-eyed — did they think all this time I’d been fuming at them? I hadn’t reached out because I’d been embarrassed. Because I’d failed them. Let their plans fall through.

“You were so proud,” I said. “When we announced our engagement. I thought— I thought you’d be disappointed in me. Especially how I ran out of there. That scene with my dress.”

“Embarrassed…” Father flung his hands up, then let them drop. “We’re your parents. We’re meant to protect you. What happened that day was our fault. Not yours. We picked the wrong husband.”

“We pushed you too hard.”

“We didn’t listen when you weren’t sure. Gabriella’s been telling us how nervous you were. Why didn’t you come to us? You know we’d never force you.”

I stared at my parents, at their sad, hurt expressions. They’d aged since I’d seen them last, at least to my eye. Mother was wearing too much concealer, hiding the puffiness underneath. The truth was, I’d never thought to say no. I’d wanted to please them, and I’d gone along. I’d felt like I had to, or…

Or what?

It hit me I’d never once tried saying no. I’d been too scared to see their smiles fade. To watch the light of their pride in me go out of their eyes.

“You were so happy,” I said, in a small voice. “When Rafael’s parents approved of our courtship.”

“But it was your marriage. You should be happy.”

“I thought maybe I might be, given time. If I tried.”

“But you never wanted to marry him.” Father frowned out the window. I followed his gaze, but there was nothing out there. He sat himself down on the edge of the bed. “Our parents — your grandparents — introduced us, it’s true. But I always wanted to marry your mother. I was excited on our wedding day. We thought you felt the same, or we wouldn’t have gone forward.”

I sat down myself, feeling lightheaded. I’d never heard this version of their story before. I’d always assumed they’d married out of duty, and the love they had now had blossomed later.

“It’s true,” said Mother. “I was in love with your father. We thought you girls knew that. We thought it was clear.”

“It is now,” I said. “Anyone can see you have a good marriage. But I didn’t know you did from the start.”

Father let out a chuckle, a strange, quiet sound. “Oh, we had our hiccups, our growing pains. We’d never lived together, or with anyone. We had different ideas of how a household should run. But we worked through all that because we wanted our marriage. We wanted each other. We thought you and Rafael felt the same way.”

I tried not to laugh at that, but I couldn’t help it. Mother winced and I felt bad, and I bit my lip.

“So, you didn’t come here to drag me back to the altar?”

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