“Do you find that kind of work fulfilling?” She asked it with a genuine air of curiosity about her, and I quickly realized she wasn’t intentionally being condescending, she was completely oblivious to it.
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t,” I said, trying my best to keep my tone just as calm and respectful as I could. I’d battled complete strangers who tried to cut my career down simply because it had the word romance associated with it, and I sure as hell hoped that wasn’t where this conversation was heading.
“What publishing house do you work with?” she asked, her features brightening. “I’m a huge fan of the one who puts out the literary works focusing on STEM research.”
I swallowed hard. I could guess just about how well this was going to go over. “I’m self-published.”
Carla set down her fork, and Stewart looked up from his plate, flashing a concerned glance between me and Asher. God, you’d think I’d announced that there was a fly in the mashed potatoes.
“And you’re able to support yourself this way?” she asked.
“Mom,” Harper chided. “Can we pause with the third degree?”
“What did your chef put in these potatoes?” Nathan asked, and I warmed to him even more for the attempt to take the spotlight off me. “They’re ridiculously good.”
“Seriously, Mom,” Asher said, his tone low.
“What?” she asked innocently. “I’m just interested, is all. We’ve never met a self-published author before.”
I blew out a breath, hating that I was such a cause of tension at the table, but, on the other hand, my personal choice in career shouldn’t be such a hot-button topic either.
“So, are you able to support yourself, dear?” she asked again. “Or is it a struggle every month to make ends meet?”
My mom’s eyes widened at Carla, but she quickly glanced at me, a silent question if she needed to step up to handle that question.
I shook my head at my mom, and then I couldn’t help but laugh.
Like a full-on, awkward laugh that had them all gaping at me. “I’m sorry,” I said after I’d reeled it in and cleared my throat. “Yes,” I said. “I make a good living, thanks to my readers. You can both rest assured I’m not dating your son for the money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Nathan snort-laughed on the other side of Harper, who smirked at me and then her parents. They were not laughing or smiling. They were downright shocked by the words that had left my mouth, and Asher? Well, he just squeezed my thigh in approval.
“Do you like the dressing?” Asher asked me, and I scooped up a big bite before nodding.
“It’s delicious.”
“That’s all mine,” Stewart said, a prideful grin on his face. “I sent the recipe to James last week. If we were in Seattle, I would’ve started it three days ago. The trick is making your own broth too.”
I sighed, the tension finally broken for the moment, and dug into the food. Asher’s mom remained silent for most of the rest of the dinner, but once dessert was cleared and we were all drinking coffee, she focused on Asher.
“I haven’t heard a peep about the safety line becoming available to the public yet, Asher. When can we expect to see that? It would be wonderful to be able to have your niece and her friends outfitted with your and Harper’s gear for her future ski trips.”
“We’ve hit a few snags with some of the investors,” Asher said, adopting his boardroom tone.
“Snags?” She shook her head. “You control the owning interest in the company. You can’t have snags.”
“I can,” he said, sighing. “It’s about distribution and cost. We have to be able to make the product affordable while maintaining our quality standards and then we have to lower the purchase price while still making a profit.”
“We’re making huge strides in that area,” Harper chimed in. “We’ll get there. It just takes time—”
“Time,” Asher’s mom cut her off, her eyes on Asher, then me and back again. “Time you seem to be spending with your focus elsewhere.” She sighed. “Asher, you and your sister have been blessed with gifts many would kill for. You’re not helping the world sitting up there at Reaper Arena watching some fools play hockey—”
“Mom!” Harper snapped.
“No offense to you, Nathan, you know I adore you.”
Nathan cleared his throat. “None taken, I guess?”
I glanced at Asher, watching the previous relaxed and confident set to his shoulders shift to that heaviness he carried whenever he felt like he wasn’t doing enough.
“You have a duty to this world,” she continued. “To use the gifts you were given for the greater good.”
“God, can we have one meal together where this doesn’t come up?” Asher groaned.
“Not waste your time with your NHL teams and your resorts and your romance authors,” Carla continued like he hadn’t even spoken. “You’re losing perspective—”