because that would definitely create a crease of a wrinkle, even in an allegedly wrinkle-proof fabric.
In her mind, Rori considered her current state as a trial run for the exhibit tomorrow. If her mom said nothing when she arrived, Rori would know that she was good to go the next day. But if Rori got anything wrong, her mom would certainly let her know. Then she would know to fix it—if such a thing were possible.
For now, all Rori could do was hold as still as possible and pray that her mom arrived before her dad. One courtesy hug from her dad, and poof, her dress would need attention.
Her dad… It still seemed surreal that her biological father might be coming. What did one say to the father she hadn’t seen in half a decade? It was always such a mindfuck to go face-to-face with her father. The eight-year-old little girl in Rori jumped at the chance to see him, while the adult in her was very aware that abandoning her and her mom when she was a child was entirely his choice. He’d wanted a new wife. A new life. New kids. And now that she was an adult, he just expected her to understand why he’d left.
Because his zipper had said so. He’d been helpless in the whole situation.
But her dad in the same room as her mom and Jean? In the history of time, that perfect storm had yet to come together. Not that Rori’s mom was bitter. Far from it. It was just that the dynamics between her parents were… unpredictable.
She must have been fidgeting, because Mike came down the nearby ladder and sent her a sympathetic smile. Man, that smile on top of the tool belt around his waist made it all seem like he should be shirtless and posing for a calendar. But lustful thoughts aside, Rori would have given almost anything for him to reach out and hold her for a minute—for him to tell her that it was all going to be okay. Even if it wasn’t true. She just wanted to lean against his chest and believe it for a few minutes.
But he didn’t reach out. He didn’t even come within arm’s distance. “Is she late?”
“Never,” Rori said, not even needing to check the clock. “I’m just early.”
He nodded, sticking a screwdriver in his back in the tool belt. “I have to say, I’ve never seen anyone so nervous to meet up with her parents before.”
Rori gave a short laugh. “Yeah? Well, stick around and you just might see why.”
“Sold.”
Rori flinched. “No, I was kidding. Don’t stay . Please.”
A smile curved his lips. “You realize you’re only making me more determined to stay, right?”
Yes, she did, and she honestly didn’t know if she’d done it on purpose or not. Having him around would be good because her mom would be on better behavior in front of company, but it would also create a problem if her mom picked up on the fact that they knew each other on a personal level.
That would go over like a brick with wings.
When it came to both of her parents the best thing to do was just to let things unfold. Over the years, Rori had learned that the more she tried to hide something from her mother, the quicker she sniffed it out. The more Rori tried to control, the more she was critiqued.
“I’ve never seen you nervous before,” Mike teased, taking the ladder down.
“Yeah. Well—”
The light click of heels sounded in the entry. True, they could have belonged to anyone, but Rori knew her mom, and she knew that walk. And when she turned and saw her, Rori gave a light nod of acknowledgment before moving.
“So good to see you, Mom,” Rori said in her native tongue.
“Always good to see you, too, my dear. Jean sends his regrets that he can’t be here for the private tour, but he should fly in for our dinner a little later. He had to make a stop in Shanghai.”
Of course he had. There was always something going on with Jean.
“It might turn out for the best that he’s not here,” Rori said. “Dad said he would drop by. Who knows if he actually will, but there’s a chance.”
“So you said,” her mom said, looking over Rori’s shoulder and her voice rising in volume a few notches as she switched to English. “And who might this be?”
“Mike Cannon, ma’am,” Mike said, moving toward them and offering his