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I look at him.
“Why are you worried about what they think? They don’t worry much about you. We’ll put whatever minimal issues they might have to rest by me introducing myself and explaining that when Adam ended the relationship with you, I took the opportunity to make sure I didn’t let the grass grow.”
I scoff. “That’s an understatement.”
His eyes travel my face, assessing, then he says, “We’ll explain the basics and then we’ll go, and things will go back to the way they were with them. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
I guess not. I’m an adult, after all. But still. I’m being painted in the media as a gold digger. Is that article going to get much attention?
He jerks his chin toward the house. “This is exactly what I pictured. I see why you fell in love with our house. It’s different, but the street has a similar feel.”
I look at my parents’ house. At the rosebushes Mom loves so much. At the big, old oak on the lawn we used to climb when me and Bryan were kids. The swing set isn’t out back any longer, but I spent hundreds or maybe thousands of hours of my childhood here on this driveway, on that front lawn, in the back yard. Living life. Playing with my brother and our friends. Being mostly carefree. Thinking about my dreams for the future. The house is quite different from the house Derek bought, but it’s got the same wide front porch, mature trees and a similar feel with the manicured landscaping. No one’s properties are gated here. The houses are far enough apart, most people in this neighborhood don’t even have fences.
Both of my parents’ cars are in their carport. Mom still drives a minivan. It’s nearly new, but the same make as what she’s driven throughout most of my childhood. Always maroon. Her favorite color. The same color as Bryan’s football jersey in freshman year, the only year he played football. Before he started getting headaches that led to the diagnosis of the tumor.
Dad’s got a newer car now than what he had on my last visit. It’s a four-door silver Audi.
“Ready?” Derek asks.
I blow out a big breath. “No.”
He takes my hand and kisses it.
And strangely, it makes me feel something not unlike relief. Our eyes meet. I look away quickly, feeling a pang of bitterness mixed with confusion.
“Don’t worry, Chloe. We’ll get through it together.” He releases my hand and gets out.
I take another couple of breaths before I get out. He’s come around to the passenger side to meet me, catching my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze as we walk up the driveway to the front steps.
I pull my hand away, but too late, because my dad is watching from the family room window. He moves, then appears in the window over the door as it opens.
“Chloe? Everything all right?” His eyes ping between me and Derek.
“Hi Dad,” I say, my voice coming out scratchy.
Mom appears behind him, eyes bouncing between me and Derek.
The door opens wider. “Come in,” Dad invites.
“Dr. Turner, I’m Derek Steele. It’s nice to meet you.” Derek extends his hand.
Dad shakes it. “Call me Hal, Derek. My wife Pamela.”
“Mrs. Turner.” Derek shakes her hand.
“Hey Mom,” I greet, leaning over and kissing her cheek. She pats my back a few times before she gestures to the family room.
“Sorry I didn’t call first, but something came up and I wanted to talk to you in person.”
“I’d say so,” Mom says, looking rattled. “Mrs. Johanson just messaged me not five minutes ago to say her daughter saw your face on a gossip blog. Said you got married. I was just about to come talk to your father about it.”
“Married?” Dad asks, eyes landing on my left hand.
“Yes, sir. Ma’am,” Derek says and keeps talking as we walk to the family room. “Chloe and Adam’s relationship has been over for a while now. They were keeping up pretenses for a variety of reasons, mostly because your daughter is so selfless.”
My eyes dart to him with warning. “Derek.”
“No, Chloe, don’t take the blame here. At all. She always does this, doesn’t she?” he says, looking at them like they know this about me and will agree with him.
