Page 133 of You Owe Me

He nods with enough force to potentially cause whiplash. “Crystal clear, sir.”

Cooper turns to look at me with obvious admiration. “This is so much better than your driving test lecture. Remember when you made that DMV instructor cry?”

“That was an accident.”

“Was it, though?”

I ignore him and settle into the couch with the satisfaction of a man who’s just stress-tested a bridge and found it structurally sound.

From upstairs, I hear the distinctive thud of heels against hardwood, the universal signal that a teenage girl is about to make a dramatic entrance, whether she intends to or not. It’s followed by Ainsley’s voice calling out final instructions about posture and lipstick application.

Noah bolts to his feet.

Ainsley appears first, descending the stairs with the kind of calm, glowing confidence that comes from twenty-four years of managing my particular brand of controlled chaos. She’s armed with that special mom-energy that could simultaneously plan a wedding, negotiate international peace treaties, and still find time to adjust someone’s collar.

She takes one look at Noah’s expression and gives me thelook—the one that says I know exactly what you’ve been doing and we’ll discuss this later.

“Did you terrify him?” She walks straight over to kiss my cheek.

“Define ‘terrify,’” I reply innocently.

Noah, to his credit, doesn’t immediately rat me out. Impressive loyalty under pressure.

“I’m Vivienne’s mother.” Ainsley extends her hand to shake his. “It’s lovely to meet you, Noah. I apologize if my husband has already threatened your academic standing or future prospects.”

“Only a little,” Noah manages, his voice cracking slightly on the words. “And it was very… educational.”

“She’ll be down in just a moment,” Ainsley tells him, then turns back to me with narrowed eyes. “Don’t pace.”

“I don’t pace.”

“You hover,” she corrects with the authority of someone who’s observed my behavioral patterns for years. “You hover like a neurotic bat with separation anxiety.”

Before I can mount a proper defense of my completely rational parental vigilance, there’s movement at the top of the stairs. The kind of careful, deliberate movement that suggests someone is making their grand entrance.

And then there’s Vivienne.

My daughter. My firstborn. The tiny baby who used to fall asleep on my chest during late-night feedings, who insisted I read the same picture book about sea lions forty-seven times in a row, who inherited her mother’s stubborn streak and my strategic mind.

She’s wearing a dark blue dress that somehow manages to be both elegant and age-appropriate—a miracle of shopping that I’m sure involved multiple consultations and several heated negotiations. Her hair is swept up in some kind of elaborate style that probably took two hours and required professional-grade engineering. Her makeup is perfect but not overdone.

She looks… grown. Sophisticated. Like someone I recognize and someone I’ve never met before, all at the same time.

The entire room stops breathing. Even Cooper shuts up, which is a statistical impossibility.

Noah forgets how to operate his lungs.

“Hey,” she says softly when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, her eyes finding Noah’s immediately.

“You look…” He trails off, visibly struggling to find words that won’t get him murdered by an overprotective father. “You look absolutely beautiful, Vivienne.”

She blushes—actually blushes—and something in my chest clenches with the realization that my daughter is becoming someone I can’t protect from everything. Someone who’s goingto experience things I can’t control or fix or intimidate into submission.

“Thank you.” She accepts the corsage box with genuine pleasure. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Ainsley produces her phone, insisting on a million pictures. Cooper provides running commentary on lighting and composition. Grace reappears to critique the corsage placement and offer unsolicited advice about flower arrangement.

Through it all, I just stand there and watch my daughter pose with a boy who clearly understands that he’s dating someone completely out of his league. I watch her smile like she’s standing on the edge of something big and beautiful and entirely her own.

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