Page 12 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
"I would have, but I've been busy. We acquired a few dozen new portfolios last month, and the logistics have been challenging."
"I understand that work is hard, but you need to relax sometimes too." My mom rests a hand on my cheeks. "My poor baby. You look exhausted every time I see you."
"I'm fine." I would be even better had I not attended this marriage market disguised as a family dinner, but I can't tell that to my mom. I have a soft spot for her. If it were just my dad and Steph, I would have torn their heads off. "I'm not sure how long I can stay, though."
"At least stay long enough to meet a few people." She gestures to the woman next to her and says, "This is Alyssa. She's Elma's daughter. You remember Elma, right?"
"Vaguely," I admit. She's one of the various women at one of my mother's various social clubs.
"Amazing! Well, Alyssa here is a social media influencer."
My father snorts. "That's what they're calling jobless people these days."
My mom smacks him in the arm, as the girl's face reddens and she says, "Actually, we just cracked a million followers on Instagram last week."
"Oh yeah? And what does that mean in real money terms?"
"Michael!" my mother gasps.
"What? I'm telling her the truth so she reconsiders her career."
Mortification glows on Alyssa's face, and my mom looks furious. My father, on the other hand, looks like he couldn't care less. He came to America from Ireland and built our family empire up from nothing. Now that he's older, he doesn't have a lot of respect or patience for the new online money-making schemes.
On top of that, he has a naturally abrasive personality and will pretty much say anything he thinks, no matter who he offends.
Oh, and he's extremely judgmental.
My mom is judgmental, too, but in a different way.
When another woman we're standing with introduces herself as a chief financial analyst, my mom goes, "Does that not require a lot of time to do?"
"Yes," she says proudly. "I work twelve hours most days."
My mother makes a face. "Oh, no, dear, that won't do. How do you plan to raise kids with that kind of career?"
The woman's eyes flare open at the criticism, but she attempts to smile. "Well, I suppose I can figure that out when the time comes."
"It'll be too late by then. You need to figure it out before. Oh, and who did you say your parents were again?"
"Uh… Jennifer and Mathew Bluhm?"
"Hmm." My mother purses her lips.
My sister leans in to stage-whisper to me, "It's a no-go. Ten years ago, Jennifer Bluhm nabbed the Cavalli dress that Mom really wanted at couture and wore it to Majorca before Mom could. She'll never forgive her for that."
"Don't be ridiculous, Stephanie," my mother says. "I could never hold a grudge against that woman, especially over a dress that looked infinitely better on me."
"Right." My sister snorts. None of them seems to care how mortified the woman they're talking about appears, even as she makes a polite excuse and walks away with a last look at me.
If I were her, I would leave the party entirely, but she seems to still be sticking around to try her luck at joining the Wolfe dynasty.
Although I don't know why.
I mean, I could tell you that deep down, my family are good people, but I would be lying. They're all vicious, intrusive beasts who only act nice and welcoming when they need you for something or when they're luring you into a trap. Like today, for example.
Being with me means dealing with them, and I don't know anyone in their right mind who would want that.
Not to mention, how specific their wants are.
