Page 4 of Surrender
Closer than it had been for over ten years.
“Let’s hope she does,” I answered, shuffling in my seat and adjusting the short maroon cocktail dress I was wearing for the millionth time. “You know I’m not really into fashion, though, and people are probably going to ask me questions about her, and you, and Coco Chanel.”
Parker’s mother, Margot Carrington, came from a long line of generational wealth that I couldn’t even begin to understand, the Carrington family having founded the luxury fashion brand Dahné in the early 1930s—a small detail he neglected to tell me until two weeks ago when he invited me to come support her tonight at a ‘small, intimate charity event’ in Detroit.
We’d been dating for four months at that point. How did I say no?
Like,sorry, that place holds too many emotional scars that I have yet to share with you because I’m still not sure if this relationship is going anywhere.
No.
I was strong, but not ‘tell the guy I’m dating that I don’t want to meet his high-powered mother’is kind of strong.
So, there I was, back within the city that held my childhood memories tight within its grasp.
Some amazing.
Some more painful than I would like to admit.
And I was petrified that the two weeks I was about to spend here with Parker and his family were going to slice open the wounds I’d spent years fighting to heal.
Parker barked out a laugh. “You think people are going to ask you about Coco Chanel?”
“I have no idea! All you’ve done is tell me to be myself,” I exclaimed, turning my body to face him.
“Exactly.”
I narrowed my eyes on the side of his head, annoyed at the grin plastered across his smug face. “I don’t know if you’ve met me, but I don’t improvise well. I need a script, a plan, something I can practice.”
He rolled his eyes. “This isn’t the ballet.”
It might as well have been.
We were headed to the Detroit Yacht Club, one of the most prestigious clubs in the entire country. Me walking in there with no plan was the equivalent of me auditioning for the Russian Ballet with a dance I’d never seen or heard.
Parker seemed sure of my abilities, but I was skeptical.
Extremely skeptical.
As downtown Detroit slipped into the distance, we turned onto the MacArthur Bridge, and I finally felt a smile pull at the corner of my mouth. I inhaled a long, deep breath and held it as we passed over the water, tapping my foot in time with the light posts as they rushed by.
Mom and Dad used to take James and me to Belle Isle tothe aquarium. It was a trip we took once a month at least, due to Mom’s obsession with the ocean and everything inside it.
But I’d never been tothispart.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured as Parker pulled up to the front of the building, a handful of valets waiting. I’d only ever seen the building from afar, the yacht club a little too exclusive for my family. I took a deep breath, reaching for the door handle when it suddenly swung open, an older man in a black suit appearing a moment later, holding out his hand to me. “Miss Robbins.”
Of course, he knew my name.
Why wouldn’t I expect that, given the magnificent architecture, the stunning views, and the fact that the yacht club occupied its own island?
An island off an island.
I am out of my league.
Parker tucked me into his side as he spoke with the doorman, a list in his hands that was several pages long, though he didn’t even glance down at it before ushering us through the doors. We were early, people still rushing past holding vases, carrying food, someone even holding a small bucket of white paint.
“What the—”
