Page 90 of Robbin’ the Rich

A grin spread across my face before I could stop it.

Micah: Leaving soon. Send Help.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Robin: Send me a text and I’ll come to your rescue.

Micah: My Hero

Robin: You know it.

I laughed quietly to myself.

I still had to pinch myself that Robin was mine. In fact, last night I thought she was going to tell me she loved me for a split second. And much as I want to hear it, and as much as I fucking love her… I have to tell her the truth before we got there.

That thought makes me even more nervous than the thought of family dinner.

I did love Robin. In fact, I wished I could be more like her. She’s so brave and strong. She isn’t afraid of anything. Meanwhile I feel like I am afraid of everything. I needed to do this. I needed to be brave.

Tonight. After our family dinners I would tell her, then if she was still talking to me I would tell her I loved her. I could be as strong and fearless as she was.

Before I slipped my phone into my pocket, still smiling, I got off one more text.

Micah: Six o'clock. Pie.

Robin: Six o'clock. Pie.

I grabbed my keys from the counter and headed for the door before I could spend another twenty minutes thinking about Robin.

Outside, the crisp November air greeted me with enough chill to make me regret not bringing a heavier coat. The drive to my parents' house took twenty-five minutes.

By the time I pulled into the circular driveway, my good mood had mostly evaporated. The Nottingham house looked exactly the way it always did. No one did expensive and vapid quite like them. Especially on holidays I missed my childhood home. Even though I’d had to share a room with my brother who now felt like a stranger, it had more warmth than this home with at least four fireplaces.

I sat in my car for a moment longer than necessary.

The front windows glowed with warm yellow light. Through one of them I could see my family sitting around waiting for me.

I grabbed my phone and looked at the last text from Robin. I just had to get through this and then I would meet her for pie. I could do anything for a couple hours.

I slipped my phone into my pocket and climbed out of the car. The front door opened before I reached it. My mother stood framed in the entryway.

"Micah."

"Mom."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "We need to have a talk before we head to the restaurant for dinner."

"Sure," I said, stepping inside. "Let's talk."

I should have known it was going to be bad when my mother led me into the sitting room instead of the kitchen.

The Nottingham house had three separate living areas because one living room wasn't enough when you were trying to build a personal brand around being blessed by God. This room existed primarily for appearances. Nobody actually relaxed here. The furniture was expensive, the decorations looked professionally curated, and I was reasonably certain my mother would tackle anyone who attempted to eat a cracker on the cream-colored sofa.

The moment I stepped through the doorway, I stopped. My father sat in one armchair. My mother took the one beside him. While my older brother occupied the couch, and my younger brother slouched in another chair looking vaguely uncomfortable.

They were arranged in a semicircle facing an empty seat just waiting for me. I stared at them, before sitting in the empty chair.

"You've got to be kidding me,” I muttered