Page 94 of Personal Foul

He nods toward the door. “When we go back downstairs.”

A nervous laugh escapes me. “Are they going to feed me to the wolves?”

He shakes his head slowly. “They are the wolves.”

I suck in a breath, taking in the seriousness of his expression. “Is there anything I need to know to make my chances of survival higher?”

His easy grin comes back, and he gives me a quick kiss. “Just be your normal self. If things get off track, I’ll be there to steer us back in the right direction. Let’s freshen up, and then we need to head back downstairs. Since tomorrow will be a busy day with the engagement party, no one will want to stay up too late. We’ll have a snack, maybe a drink, and then everyone will head to bed.”

“They’re not going to have a problem with me staying in your room, are they?”

Shaking his head, he chuckles. “No, staying in the same room will be the least of our worries.”

I busy myself with hanging up my dress and unpacking while he uses the bathroom. I also text my mom, my dad, my sister, and Isabelle to let them all know that I’ve made it to Seattle safely. It would be easiest to do this in a group chat, but with mom and dad separated, that doesn’t seem appropriate. So I type out a message and send it to my mom, then copy and paste it to everybody else.

All too soon, it’s time to head downstairs. With a deep, bracing breath, I thread my fingers through Dylan’s and let him lead me downstairs to the kitchen.

Victoria brightens at our entrance, standing from her place at the table, a glass of white wine in her hand. “Hey, you guys. I’m so glad you were both able to come for my engagement party. We’re just having a quick bedtime snack. Do you want some wine? Or I think Mom and Dad have beer as well.” She throws a questioning look at her parents.

“Oh, I’ll just have water,” I say quickly.

Dylan’s mom stands, a polite smile on her face. “Let me just show you where the glasses are.” She moves to a cabinet on the other side of the kitchen next to the refrigerator and pulls it open, revealing rows of pristine glassware. “Here we are.”

Dylan makes a low growling sound in his throat, soft enough that I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who hears it. Releasing my hand, he moves to the cabinet and pulls down two glasses, efficiently filling them with water and bringing one back to me. He kisses me on the cheek as he hands me my glass. “Here you go, Spitfire.”

I struggle to keep my expression neutral, this exchange confusing. I know he referred to his family as wolves when we were upstairs, but I don’t quite understand what’s happening. Is his mother suggesting I get my own water some kind of slight? Based on Dylan’s reaction, I would guess so.

Victoria gestures to the empty seats at the table. “Sit, sit. We have a cheeseboard. Help yourselves.” She passes napkins down the table as we take our seats and pushes the cheeseboard closer to us so we can reach it.

I murmur a thank you and take a few small slices of cheese and a handful of crackers. Fortunately, I’m not very hungry. We ate a big dinner, plus we had snacks in the car. And driving through the mountain passes always makes me queasy.

Dylan takes a few things as well, and silence descends on the kitchen. It’s more than a little awkward, but I’m not going to be the one to break the silence. My goal is to keep my head down and survive.

Now that we’re here, I’m extra glad I decided to spend the first part of the day with my mom tomorrow. I had only planned on being there for a couple of hours, but I might stay for longer just to steer clear of Dylan’s parents. His sister seems perfectly nice, but there’s a distinct chill in the air emanating from their end of the table.

Dylan seems content. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably be talking about anything and everything I could think of. The temptation is already strong, but my nervous verbal diarrhea has no place here. The last thing I want is to embarrass him in front of his parents. I hadn’t picked up on it before we left, but as we got closer to Seattle, and especially after getting here, I can tell he’s nervous about bringing me home to meet his parents.

I’m just not sure exactly what the source of his nerves is. Is it me? Something about me specifically? Or would he be nervous about bringing any girl home? Is he worried I’ll embarrass him? There’s also the issue of my father…

Has he told them? Since I don’t know the answer to that question, I’m definitely not volunteering that information. Which won’t be too difficult, since that’s not something I talk about regularly anyway. Obviously I do more with Dylan, since he’s aware of the situation. But that only happens when we are alone in his apartment. Or maybe in his car. Definitely never in front of other people.

At last, Dylan’s mother offers me another polite smile. “Well, Charity. I’m afraid Dylan hasn’t told us much about you. I take it you’re studying at Marycliff as well?”

Since my mouth is full, I hold one hand in front of my lips and nod.

“What are you studying?” This is from Dylan’s dad. Is this going to be a tag team situation?

“I’m majoring in English.”

“Oh,” Dylan’s mom says, sounding almost surprised. “Well, isn’t that nice.” Except the way she says it sounds like it’s not nice at all.

Not sure what the problem is with my major. It’s a perfectly respectable major. We have a good-sized department, well-respected faculty. There’s nothing wrong with what I’m studying, but they make it sound like gunk that needs to be scraped off the bottom of their shoes.

“Charity’s on track to graduatesumma cum laude,” Dylan says, clearly making good on his promise from when we were upstairs.

His parents both nod, seeming to approve, but I get the feeling that they’re not as impressed as they would be if my major were something else.

“Has Dylan told you that he’ll be attending law school after he graduates?” Dylan’s dad asks.

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