Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,83

of salad. Beside me, my new phone chilled on the tabletop, freshly synced, my life back in order. Or rather, it was. Until Carter brought up his parents. And dinner with them.

“Saturday night,” he continued. “They suggested a French restaurant on Park.” He speared a piece of fish and looked up at me. “Do you like French food?”

“Yes…” I said cautiously.

“You don’t have to come.” He shrugged. “I know it’s been a crazy week for you with work … and with it raining tonight…” His words got lost in another bite of food and I set down my fork. It wasn’t that crazy of a week at work. And what did the rain have to do with anything?

“I can come.” My curiosity spoke for me, something about the casual invite; coupled with the reluctance of his voice … I was suddenly dying to meet them. How bad could parents be? I warmed to the idea, my head nodding. “I’d love to meet your parents.”

“You would?” Carter looked wary.

“Yeah.” I stabbed at another piece of salad. “I love parents.”

“Have you told yours about us?”

I slid the fork slowly out of my mouth, chewing the bite, trying to think of the proper response. “No,” I finally said. “I—I haven’t spoken to my parents in a while.” I stared down at my bowl, picking through the mixed greens. Our last contact had been my dad’s birthday. Since then, I’d left four or five messages, all unreturned. After the last, I hadn’t had the heart to try again. And that had been almost two weeks ago.

Odd that Carter and I had discussed almost everything but our parents. I’d planned to tell him about mine. Next week I’d kept thinking. The next weeks had piled up on themselves and turned into … God. Five months. Five months since we’d first met. And now … I shifted in my seat. It didn’t seem the time. Not when I’d asked him so little about his. I knew they’d been strict. Neat freaks who withheld sustenance. Nothing else. “Your uh—parents. They’re still married?”

“Yeah,” he said, watching me. “Yours?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t like to talk about them?” he asked.

I managed a laugh. “Not really. You?”

He shrugged. “You know a little. My parents are … grouchy.” He grimaced. “To be honest, I’m a little worried that they’ll scare you off.”

I looked up, meeting his eyes. “They won’t.” I couldn’t think of anything that would scare me away from this man.

He chuckled. “You sure about that? They’ve always been difficult with anyone I’ve dated.”

I was.

Turned out, I might have underestimated the situation.

78. I Hate These People

I checked my reflection for the tenth time in the mirror above my sink. Smoothing down my hair, I checked my teeth. I was dressed conservatively, but cute—a Krisa jumpsuit paired with jeweled flats. Carter called my name, and I swallowed. “Coming!” I called, running the sink for a moment to buy some time. I shouldn’t be so nervous. Parents loved me. And why wouldn’t they? Carter could have done a lot worse. I tossed some lipstick in the clutch and snapped it shut. Gave myself one last look in the mirror and then pulled open the door.

“Ready?” Carter leaned against the wall, his eyes lifting to me and he smiled. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I let out a nervous breath. “I’m a little stressed,” I confessed.

He smiled, pulling me to him and pressing his lips to mine. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to be late.”

“You’re supposed to tell me I have nothing to be nervous about,” I scolded playfully, shrugging into my jacket and following him into the hall.

“You’ll do fine,” he said, checking his watch.

Still not the words I wanted. I took the hand he offered, and we stepped into the elevator. I blamed the drop of my heart on the quick descent, my nerves humming.

Something was off.

We stepped in the small restaurant, Carter giving our name to the maître d’, my heart sinking when I saw, seated just a few tables inside, the older couple who had interviewed interrogated me for the apartment. The woman’s back was as stiff as it had been in my interview, the man’s face just as dour. I grabbed Carter’s arm and hoped he’d veer right, to the bar, but he saw them too. I’d forgotten for a moment that they were his employers, him recognizing them also.

He steered me in their direction and they looked up at our approach, the woman’s eyes skipping past Carter and landing on