course we’re here to see you.”
“Really?” I slapped the menu onto the table, waiting for either of them to make eye contact. But I’d be waiting the whole damn night. Their eyes stayed glued on the menus. “Dad, how many meetings do you have lined up for tomorrow?”
“Two, why?” he answered robotically, with no clue that he’d just made my point.
A middle-aged dude with chestnut hair and a goatee came over, grinning wide. “Good evening, Governor Michaelson, Mrs. Michaelson.”
My dad stood, taking his hand. “Good evening. Thank you for being able to accommodate us on such short notice.”
The man waved my father’s gratitude away and bent to offer my mom his hand as well. “No problem at all. Would you mind a photograph? We love documenting all public figures who eat at our establishment.”
“Of course.” My dad’s chuckle bellowed through the restaurant, and my mother offered him as warm of a smile as she could. Both turned to glare at me. “Come on, Tate. Stand up so we can all have a picture.” I inwardly groaned. It was bad enough having to grow up doing this, going out with friends and seeing my picture up behind the bar or in the entryway to a restaurant. Now it was following me to fucking college, too.
The flash popped, and I honestly didn’t know whether or not I smiled. Nor did I care. I would order my steak, eat quietly, and get the fuck home and away from them.
I fell back into my chair and placed my napkin back on my lap, then I heard a familiar voice above me.
“Good evening and welcome to Magnolia’s. My name’s—” Her voice squeaked when we both looked up at the same moment, catching each other’s eyes.
“Shelby?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
TATE
Her face went stark white, stiffer than the starched table cloth. My body tingled, heating at the sight of her here. As our waitress. Why was she waiting tables? What the fuck was going on? “Wha-what are you doing here?” I stuttered.
Her blush turned to a full-on crimson. “I work here,” she said quietly. “I mean…sort of. I used to, and I’m just filling in for extra cash over Parents’ Weekend.”
I turned to my father. No emotion registered on his face, or on my mom’s. “You knew about this,” I said quietly.
“Shelby.” My dad smiled, but his eyes were dead. “Could you give us a minute?”
“Of course,” she whispered, backing away.
“You knew she worked here,” I said again.
“Well, of course we knew.” My mom rolled her eyes, sipping her water. “You can’t drop a bomb like having a girlfriend on us and expect us not to do a little digging.”
“But…I didn’t tell you her name or anything—”
“Son, please. Give us some credit.”
I snorted. “Right. Silly me. I forgot for a moment that you have eyes fucking everywhere, don’t you?”
“Watch your language.” He was quiet but venomous, and I didn’t give a shit about my language right now.
“A few calls and you knew exactly who I was spending my time with.”
“Son.” My dad leaned in, lowering his voice. “We love you. Can we focus on the more important issue here? This girl told you she came from wealth, right? She claimed to live in a wealthy part of town on the North End?” My dad shook his head. “There has never been a Shelby Stevens living in North Charleston. After your first sham of an engagement, I’m surprised you didn’t do some digging yourself. When are you going to learn?”
My body went numb, and I couldn’t feel my fingers. It was as though all my blood was replaced with cold gel that congealed and slowed my heart. “No,” I whispered. “That’s not possible.”
“There is, however, a record of a Shelby Stevens who lived with her mother, Dee Stevens, in the trailer park down near that tutoring center where you’re volunteering, up until a few years ago, when she moved into the dorms. It looks like her mother died on July tenth.” Mom clicked her tongue handing me some sort of printout that, I guess, had the proof of all this. But I didn’t even look—I couldn’t look. Anger and sadness clogged my throat like a gunked up drainpipe. How the fuck was this happening to me a second time? How could I possibly be so bad at judging people? The tightness in my chest was suddenly overwhelming, and my breath was puttering through my lips like a bad carburetor.
“Tatum.” My mom placed her hand over mine. Her fingers were frigid, and