I tip the kid and hop inside my Hummer, the majority of the ride spent silent as the lights heading north on 695 taunt my vision with every wordless breath Amber and I consume.
“Your parents seem . . . nice,” Amber finally says, her lips two taut, downward frowns as she spreads a thin layer of glittery pink gloss along the heavenly gifts. “Good people.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I chuckle, entertained by how she so easily tells a lie. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought we were siblings—our father’s acts of promiscuity the result of us sharing the same fucked-up genetic makeup. We’re both liars, two twisted souls cheating our way through the death maze of truth. Amber mentioned having a half brother she’s never met. Shit, for all I know I’m him, our chance meeting the dude upstairs’ way of saying, No, motherfucker. I am the one who holds the bolts in the train wreck of your future, the almighty pimp of your destiny. Never forget that, dickwad.
I flick my attention back to Amber, my eyes drowning in her self-conscious beauty as she drops her gloss into her clutch. “You might be good at stealing my heart, but ya need to work on thieving my intellect. You’re full of shit, Ber. I know it, you know it—my parents are assholes. End of story.”
“Okay. You caught me. They’re as close to douche as you can get.” She grins, playfully swatting my arm. “But I’ve never met a boy’s parents before, so this is still big for me.”
“A boy?” I grunt, knowing she’s purposely trying to flip the sour mood in her sexual favor. “I thought I’d shown you, on more than one occasion, I’m all man, baby girl.”
She laughs, mischief shimmying across her face as her fingers skirt around the shell of my ear. “Am I bruising your ego?”
I smirk, loving how she knows me so well. “I think you need a good spanking.”
“I’m not opposed to that very thing,” she fires back, branding my cheek with one of her kisses before leaning back in her seat.
I laugh, then sober for a minute. “Thanks for being here with me.”
“You’re the one that let this happen,” she says softly, sincerity streaming from her words.
Something takes over—a tug in my gut, screaming out that I have to make this girl understand how much I need her with me. “I want you in every part of my life, Amber.”
She angles her body toward mine. “I want to be there too, Brock. I need to know this side of you.”
“Even if it’s ugly?” I whisper.
“Especially if it’s ugly,” she says, her gaze tender. “You know my ugly parts, yet here you are.”
Jesus. I’m falling for her so fast—almost too fast, and there’s no stopping the forward momentum. “Nothing you could ever do or say would scare me away.”
“I’ve never felt happy before,” she whispers, her honesty bridging the space between us. “But with you, I think I can be.”
My heart stills, my eyes drifting over the vulnerability lining her face. She’s giving me a glimpse inside her soul, exposing a piece of herself she rarely does. Hell, if it takes bringing her to meet my insane parents to admit that I could make her as happy as she does me, I’ll do it a million times over.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, a blush burning her skin.
“You kind of . . . complete me,” I answer, honestly feeling it.
Without a word, she wraps her hand in mine and we ride the rest of the way in comfortable silence, enjoying the growing closeness between us.
Once at the restaurant—a popular Italian joint overlooking the harbor—the hostess leads us to a private room, where everyone is already seated. The second we walk in, I immediately notice that my father has ordered several bottles of wine. My mother’s sipping away at the expensive merlot, her face an impassive mask as she starts to loosen up. She’s removed her sunglasses, her arm lazily draped over the back of Brit’s chair as I examine the deep lines scratching her forehead, the heavy black bags beneath her eyes. My chest tightens, my body aching as the tortured appearance of the woman who gave me life pummels me down to my core. Another sip, the stem of the wineglass dangling between her fragile fingers as my pulse rises. Instincts alight, the thought of tonight’s imminent embarrassment kills me as I unbutton my suit jacket, pulling out a seat for Amber.
Releasing a breath, I take the chair next to Amber’s and glance around the table. Everyone else seems to be in good spirits, the chatter flowing freely.
I use the opportunity to speak. “I want to thank everyone for coming tonight.” The pitch of my tone wavers as my attention connects to my mother. I search her expression for a hint of life. It’s not there, nothing but a desert filled with the skeletal remains of who she was when I was a kid. “It’s not often we get together, but it’s nice when we do.” Most of what I just uttered is a lie—it’s usually intense, painful bullshit brought up from the past when we see each other—but I want my mom to know that even though she doesn’t want me in her life, no longer loves me because of Brandon going missing, I continue to love and need her in my own way.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Mark says with a warm smile, drawing my gaze to his. “This place is really nice, Brock.”
I choke back the emotions threatening to destroy me and return his smile. “They make killer food. This Italian princess over here loves it.”
Amber taps me in my ribs with her elbow, an embarrassed shake of her head following suit. The waiter comes over and we all order some appetizers.