They weren’t supportive of fighting even before that, but the pressure got really bad after Dad saw the life they could have with a well-paying corporate job. He managed to instill the vision in Scott, but he's never stopped trying to do the same with me.
And based on today's conversation, that's not stopping anytime soon.
I half-listen as Mom drones on about some lady at the country club supposedly having an affair with another member’s husband. I can tell none of us are listening, but we all know it makes her happy, so we let her speak. Scott looks bored and Dad is stuck in his scowl, most likely stewing over our conversation. I'm counting down the minutes until I can get out of here.
The rest of the night goes by with only a few passive aggressive digs aimed at me. Mom serves dinner while Dad and Scott tune me out by talking about work. I know they do it on purpose but I'm actually thankful for the reprieve because not having to talk means there's less chance of me losing my cool. As it stands, I'm still eager for dinner to be over so I can get the fuck out of here.
The second Mom finishes her after-dinner coffee, I push my chair back and stand up. "I have to get going," I announce. I lean over to kiss Mom on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner, Mom. I'll call you next week."
"Thanks for coming over, honey," she says with a small smile.
Dad is still glaring at me—I’m starting to think that's the only way he's capable of looking at me. I give him a tight nod. "Dad. Thanks for the career advice." I don't even look at Scott as I say, "Brother, it's been a pleasure. As always."
I don't expect a response from either of them, so I turn around and make my exit. It isn't until I'm sitting in my car that I let out the agitated breath that I've been holding for what feels like several hours.
I take a few deep breaths, but it does nothing for the anger simmering in my veins. With a frustrated growl, I grab my phone to make a call. I need a drink.
"Aiden, where you guys at tonight?"
9
Remy
"So, Hailey, what’s with the outfit?"
My sister chokes on her drink at Lucy's words. I can't help my grin—we’ve been at the bar for almost two hours and the whole time I've been waiting for when Lucy would comment on my sister's conservative attire. Apparently, it took a few drinks for her tongue to loosen.
Hailey glares at my teammate. “There’s nothing wrong with my outfit,” she growls. “I always dress like this.”
Lucy grins, very much enjoying tormenting my sister. "No, you usually dress like a model. Right now you look like a repressed only child that got sent to a girl's boarding school for kissing the neighbor boy."
Hailey's glare is momentarily replaced with a look of blinking surprise. "That was… very descriptive."
Lucy shrugs. "I dated a girl that had that vibe going on. I actually only approached her because I wanted to see if it was all a ruse or if she really was a prude."
I smother the laugh that wants to break out of me at watching these two polar opposite women tease each other. "And what was the verdict?" I manage to ask without laughing.
At that, a devious grin slides across Lucy's face. "Total ruse. That girl was the freakiest bitch I ever got with."
I can't contain the laughter anymore—it bursts out of me, loud and happy. A group of guys next to us turn in our direction with raised eyebrows.
Hailey is back to glaring at Lucy. "Are you saying I look prude, sex-crazed, or ugly? Because it’s hard to keep up with so many insults, Lucy. "
Lucy lets out a loud laugh. "Okay calm down, I'll stop teasing. You just… you look… not as hot as you usually do." She holds her hand up in surrender when Hailey's glare intensifies. "You know what I mean. You just seem… conventionally dressed. I know I told Remy to ask you not to be at full hotness-capacity tonight, but this is overkill. Even Remy did up her outfit tonight." She casts an appreciative glance at my dress. "Girl, you look hot as fuck. Well done."
Smirking, I stick my hip out in an exaggerated pose and flip my hair over my shoulder. But as I turn my head, I lock eyes with someone across the bar. The grin immediately slides from my face.
Tristan is standing at the bar next to Aiden and Max, staring straight at me. I saw him walk into the bar about an hour ago and beeline straight to the bar for a drink. Anyone could see the frown on his face and tension in his shoulders so I'm assuming alcohol was needed for whatever his problem was.
That tension is nonexistent now. He's leaning casually on the bar top and lazily spinning his whiskey glass. He's wearing dark jeans and a tight black T-shirt that accentuates every single mouth-watering muscle on his upper body. The tattoos that I know run over his chest and shoulder peek out past his sleeve, running down to his elbow. His dark hair looks as sex-tousled as it always does, and the bright blue of his eyes clashes perfectly with the permanent smirk on his lips.
He is the picture of male arrogance.
Slowly, shamelessly, his eyes rake down my body, spending extra seconds on the shortness of my dress and the way my heels lengthen my legs. I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling very dry.
Just as slowly, Tristan's eyes move up the length of my body to meet mine again. When he grins, a rush of desire floods my core. Suddenly, I'm transported back to last night—to Tristan’s body pressed against mine, his lips touching my ear and whispering dirty things. The flame of my lust increases tenfold at the memory.
"Earth to Remy!"