to me, “Don’t be silly, Rylee. Sit, we have things to discuss.”
With a sideways glance, I glare at my mother, and if looks could kill, she would positively, absolutely, unequivocally be dead.
“Come, sit.” Mom nods for me to sit in the chair she pulled out like my reaction meant nothing to her. I’m dressed in jeans and a shirt that has Tupac printing on it.
Anderson’s mother lifts her nose in disgust, I’m assuming at what I am wearing, as I stroll past her.
When I do finally sit, my mother takes the seat next to me and taps her long, fake nails on the table. “So, I have been informed of the issue at hand.”
Issue!
Issue?
As if what’s happening is an issue.
It’s a baby.
“Yes, we’ve been out of our mind with worry,” Anderson’s mother says with a shake of her head. Everything about this woman is fake—face, eyes, tits, ass—I’m sure she keeps her plastic surgeon in Ferraris.
Anderson’s father stays silent, and when I chance a peek at Anderson, his eyes are like liquid heat. Is he angry?
“I can see no problem,” I reply with a snarky grin that should let them know just how sarcastic that comment was.
Both sets of mothers’ eyes fall to me.
“How can you say that?” my mother asks with a shake of her head. The disappointment is apparent in her eyes. “The man you are going to marry has a massive issue he needs to deal with. Now is the time for you to show your support and be by his side.”
“No,” I say with a smile, then look at Anderson. “You slept around. You cheated on me. It’s your baby. We all know it. So grow up and be a father, and stop letting your mother handle your problems.”
The bastard has the audacity to clench his fists on the table while his mother gasps at my words.
He wants to harm me.
I know he does.
But he can’t because there are too many people around.
Asshole.
“How dare you! You are meant to be his fiancée,” his mother says, nodding to the box sitting in the middle of the table.
The sight of it causes a shiver to run through my body that feels as if someone has just walked over my grave. It’s not a good feeling, rather one that makes me want to run and never turn back, so I say while glaring at Anderson, “That’s a hard pass.”
He stands, slams his fist on the table, and leans forward. “You don’t get a say in this. You will be my wife.”
“Nope. I think not,” I say, trying hard to keep my composure.
Anderson moves, pushes his chair out, which falls backward and slams onto the floor, then he rushes around the table. Before he can reach me, his father stands and steps out so he’s in front of him, blocking his path. He places a hand on his chest, and Anderson huffs with pinched eyebrows, so much so, they are almost a monobrow, but even more intimidating are his clenched teeth.
He’s angry.
No, he’s furious.
And if it wasn’t for his father, I’m sure I would be laid out on the floor right now.
“You need to leave,” Anderson’s father says to him, then he turns to me. “You would’ve been a great asset to our family, Rylee. I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Anderson will not bother you again.” His father drops his hand from his son’s chest and holds his hand out for his wife, who clearly wants to say more but holds her tongue. She stands, and they all hurry out, leaving me sitting with my mother at the table.
“How dare you. Are you trying to be like your sister?” my mother shrieks, her hands waving around like she’s some sort of madwoman. She reaches for the ring that was left on the table and opens the box.
It’s beautiful. The pink diamond is massive, but it’s not something I would choose. However, I cannot deny how stunning it is if you’re into ostentatious shows of wealth.
“You could have had this. Had so much.” She turns to face me. “Why would you ruin it?”
“He isn’t right for me,” I tell her. “We haven’t been right for each other for a long time. Mom, he cheated. He is going to have a damn baby with someone else. What part of that makes you think he could possibly be right for me?”
My father walks in and kisses the top of my head. “I couldn’t agree more,” he says, having heard what I said.