Page 106 of The Dollhouse

“Nosy little fucks,” Zoey whispered, shaking her head slowly as she took another swig of her drink, finishing it off and plopping it on a waiter’s tray as we passed them by. “You came back just in time though—they have seen me before, years ago, when my parents used to throw parties of their own. I was younger then, and I think that was my only saving grace. We should go outside and find my parents before it clicks for them.”

“As you wish,” I said, still holding onto my glass. I let Zoey take the lead, walking with her through the estate. We went to the back of the house, where two sets of glass doors hung open, allowing people to come in and out freely.

We walked outside, finding a nice-sized patio with intricate stonework and finely-kept bushes and flowers. Farther out sat a garden full of roses and other colorful flowers, along with a fountain. The inside of the house was definitely more packed, but there was still an ample amount of people out here. The world sat in a twilight state, the sky not yet dark with stars, its blue color darkening with each passing moment.

Meandering around, Zoey pulled us to a stop. “There they are,” she said, pointing to a couple who stood at the foot of the gardens, talking amongst themselves. They had their own glasses of champagne, although they looked to be in need of a refill.

“Shall we wait for them to notice us, or should we approach them first?” I asked.

She thought on this, her jaw grinding, her lips pursing. I hated that her parents had such an effect on her, a hold on her after all this time. “Let’s do this, before I change my mind.” Zoey flipped her pink hair to her other shoulder, holding her head up high as she marched toward them. “Look who it is.”

I followed her, and once we reached the garden, I watched as her parents were slow to turn around to see who had spoken to them.

Her parents were exactly the kind of people I expected them to be: well put-together, clean, with an air of superiority to them. Her father had dark brown hair, eyes that were more green than blue. He wore a dark grey suit, the undershirt on his chest matching the color of his wife’s dress, which was a baby blue. Her mother, on the other hand, had long blond hair, its lengths curled and pinned to her head in an updo she surely had a stylist’s help with. Her mother’s eyes were almost the exact shade hers were, though they were much colder in tone than Zoey’s.

Her mother started, “I’m sorry, do we—” And then something switched in her brain, recognition dawning on her face. Her chest rose and fell with a single breath, the sparkling necklace on her throat heaving with that breath. She couldn’t say anything, rendered speechless by Zoey.

While her mother couldn’t say anything, her father opened his mouth to try. However, even that failed, and all he ended up doing was gulping, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Hello, Mom,” Zoey said. “Hi, Dad. How are you?” I had to give her credit; she didn’t sound mean or rude. Zoey came off kind. She could definitely wear a mask like the best of them. Was it wrong to be proud of her?

“Zoey,” her mother spoke, breathless. She dropped the glass she held onto, and it crashed onto the stone pathway below, shattering at impact. She didn’t even blink. “Zoey, is that really you?” She did not sound particularly happy to see Zoey, nor did she rush to hug her like a normal parent might’ve.

Then again, a normal parent would not have tried to sweep her cheating douchebag of an ex under the rug.

“Somehow, if I said no, I don’t think you’d believe me,” Zoey deadpanned. “I thought I’d find you guys here, and look at that, I was right. You two haven’t changed, huh?” While I knew her words were meant as an insult, her parents did not take them so.

Now her father found his voice, taking on a stern tone, “Where the hell have you been, Zoey? Do you have any idea what you put your mother and I through? We were worried sick about you. We had no idea if you were laying in a ditch somewhere, dead. Your mother thought she’d turn on the news and see your face—”

Though I probably shouldn’t speak, though I knew I should follow Zoey’s lead on this, I found myself growing irate at listening to him drone on and on. I did not appreciate the tone he took with her, and I let my displeasure show.

“Well, as you can see, Zoey is not lying in a ditch somewhere. She stands before you right now, alive and well. Listening to you speak, I am not surprised she chose to run. You do not radiate the love parents should.” Not that I would know much about loving parents, but I knew my upbringing was out of the norm. This? They weren’t normal either, but the thing was, they thought they were.

Idiots. Fucking idiots. I wanted to strangle them.

The moment I spoke, it was like they both suddenly realized I stood beside Zoey, that Zoey wasn’t alone. Her parents flicked their gazes to me, their eyes widening as they took me in. They definitely noticed how close I stood to Zoey, how angry I was on her behalf, and I could tell I made them uncomfortable.

Good.

“Who,” her mother paused, unable to get ahold of herself after seeing me, “is this?” One look at me and anyone could tell I was dangerous, and I was more than ten years Zoey’s senior. Hell, I was closer in age to her parents than I was to her, but love knew no restrictions.

Zoey’s lips curled into a smile, and she glanced up at me, the adoration evident. “This is Roman. I met him a while back, after I left. He’s been… helping me get by.” She stepped closer to me, leaning her head against my arm. “We’re together.”

Her mother blinked, clearly shocked at the truth and its revelation. “What about Bryan?”

“Honey,” her father cut in, quiet, “you know as well as I do Bryan took off after Zoey left.”

As if forgetting all about me and the fact that I was with her daughter, she asked instead, “Did you see Bryan? The Oakes are worried sick, just like we were. I told them maybe he found you, but it looks like he didn’t.”

There was a pause, and since I was the one who’d rid the world of Bryan, I knew why Zoey paused so long. Her parents, on the other hand, did not. Finally, Zoey said, “How would he have found me? I left my phone when I went and deleted all my social media. I didn’t want anyone finding me.” Softer, she added, “I needed to find myself, first.”

Her mother shook it off, saying, “Well, it looks like you found yourself, along with a handsome man.” She smiled at me, and I did not return the smile. “I’m glad you’re back home—you are here to stay, aren’t you?”

Zoey shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“My stylist might have an opening next week, I could call and check for you.” Her mother reached out for Zoey’s hair, twirling a strand of it between her fingers. “I have no idea why you’d dye your pretty blond hair this garish shade of pink.” It was like, no matter what her mother said, it came off as an insult, like she couldn’t even attempt to sound happy that her daughter was alive and well.

Zoey swatted her mother’s hand away. “No, that’s okay, thanks. I’m keeping the pink. I like it. I actually saw Willow earlier on campus. We have some of the same classes. Funny, isn’t it?” It wasn’t funny at all; no one laughed, but I knew she took glee in her parents’ discomfort.

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