Dinner does not start well.

Firstly, Aiden only left fifteen minutes ago. It took longer than I thought to prepare the food. Maybe I was underestimating the amount of work I had to do, or overestimating my speed at doing all that work. So we had to rush and my heart’s still racing now.

And now, as I’m holding the door open for my parents, I notice them staring at something on my neck and then glancing at each other.

Oh, no.

Do I have a hickey?

. . .

Or several?

Ever since Aiden learned how much being bitten on the neck gets me going, he’s been doing it all the time. I’ve had to wear concealer to cover the dark marks when I go outside, but I just had a shower and I was so nervous I forgot to check myself in the mirror.

“How was your trip?” I ask, in an attempt to act normal.

“As usual, it took too long, the seats were too small, and the babies were too loud,” Mom says as she gives me a hug.

“How are you, sweetheart?” my dad asks, his gaze still fixed on something on my neck.

“I’m good.” I give him a hug and close the front door.

“It smells good,” Mom says.

“Wait until you taste it. Take your seats.” I gesture at the dining table. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As soon as I get to the bathroom, I lean forward over the vanity to look more closely at my neck.

Damn it.

I grab some concealer from my medicine cabinet and dab it over the purple mark on my skin. It’s a small one, but it’s pretty close to my throat and I have no doubt my parents saw it.

But what the hell, right? I’m a grown-up. I can do whatever I want.

That said, though, I realize how high school hickeys are. But what can I say? I like what I like.

I check my reflection one more time, then take a deep breath before I walk outside to face my battle.

As far as battles go, this one starts out pretty peacefully.

We have some pasta while we talk about my work. My dad asks me who my attending physician is, and he says it’s good that I have a “female role model.” I tell them about the time I told a nurse to “call a doctor” before I realized I was the doctor, and they laugh.

All in all, it’s a pretty normal dinner for the three of us. Still, I don’t know about my parents, but I feel like there’s a lot of tension going on just under the surface.

Can they feel that I’m about to tell them something big?

How are they going to react?

I try to tell myself it’s going to be fine. It’s been ten years. Does my dad really still hate Aiden that much after such a long time? As stubborn as my dad is, I find it hard to believe that. Aiden was just a teenager.

But on the other hand, there are a lot of things I don’t know. I’m going in blind. If knowledge is power, then I’m screwed.

“Looks like you’re doing well on your own,” Dad says, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I give him a terse smile.

Normally, I’d be grinning, but now I don’t know if I should care at all about my dad’s approval. Obviously, I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.

“I’m proud of you too, honey,” Mom says. “Even the meal was delicious. Well done.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help quell the thumping in my chest or the sick feeling in my stomach. “Actually, I have a confession.” I pause and look at my parents across the small, wooden dining table from me. I force a smile. “I didn’t prepare this dinner by myself. Someone was helping me.”

“Who?” Dad asks as he gives Mom a look.

“We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of weeks,” I say as my heart beats even faster, “but we’ve known each other for years. We used to date when we were teenagers.”

Dad’s face immediately hardens. His jaw tightens and the muscles in his neck tense. “Don’t tell me it’s Aiden.”

“It’s Aiden,” I say defensively.

Seriously? Dad still hates him? He doesn’t even know what Aiden’s like now. Hell, he was at Hannah’s wedding, and Dad didn’t recognize him among the other groomsmen.

“You will not see him again,” Dad says.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask. “Dad, I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t tell me who I can and cannot see.”

“That boy made you run away from home,” Dad says, his eyes flashing with anger.

“He didn’t make me do anything!” I exclaim. “You were smothering me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to be with him. He didn’t make me do anything.”

“Do you know how dangerous that was, running away from home?” Dad asks, ignoring what I just said. “You could’ve been kidnapped. You could’ve been hurt. You could’ve ended up sleeping on pieces of cardboard on the streets.”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you right now, you can’t blame me running away from home on Aiden. When are you going to see that I can make my own decisions? I’m not just some brain-dead follower who’ll do whatever some guy tells me; I never was.

“For the last time, Dad, it was my own decision to leave home.” I don’t know where the words came from, but they spring forth like a deluge. It feels like a valve has opened to let out years of pent-up pressure. “It was your own fault for driving me away. You just can’t accept that.”

“Would you have done it if you didn’t know him?” Dad asks, a deep frown etched into his features.

We both know I ran away because Dad was keeping an extra-tight leash on me, and we were having frequent fights. And the reason for all that discord was because Dad didn’t like Aiden and I didn't care.

“That’s not a fair question,” I say, “and you know it.”

“The fact is, you endangered yourself for him, and I can’t let you see him again,” Dad says.

“I endangered myself by waiting for Aiden at a diner in a safe neighborhood?” I ask.

“You were sixteen. You weren’t supposed to be roaming the streets late at night.”

I stare at him. I can’t believe he’s still being so stubborn about this.

“Firstly, Dad, I wasn’t ‘roaming the streets.’ I was at the diner I used to go to a lot, and that was how you found me so quickly. I should’ve picked a different place to meet up, but hey, I was sixteen.”

I drag as much air as I can into my constricted lungs. I’ve been practicing the next line all day in my head, but it still makes me nervous to actually say it.

“And secondly,” I add, “do you think that excuses the fact that you went behind my back to pay Aiden’s mom money to take him out of the city?”

Dad stares back into my eyes. He’s showing no remorse. “I thought that might’ve come up,” he says calmly. “Despite the fact that she promised me over and over again, with tears in her eyes, that her boy was never going to bother you again, here we are. Don’t you think that says something about her character, and her son’s? They just took the money, hid it from you, and they’re still doing whatever they want, even though it goes against something they’ve already agreed to.”

“I think it speaks more about your character that you took advantage of a poor, grieving widow,” I say. “I’ll have you know that Aiden had no idea all those things ever happened, so you can’t blame him for going back on anything.”

“That’s what he told you,” Dad says, slowly shaking his head. “You’re naive if you think he was telling you the truth. He just knows exactly what to say to get into your bed. Don’t think I didn’t see the marks he left on your neck.”

“Dad!” I exclaim. “I didn’t ask for any comments on that.”

“He was lying to you,” he says.

“You don’t know that.”

“How did he even find you again? I’ll bet he’s planning to ask for more money,” Dad says.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Why do you hate him so much? Why can’t you believe that he’s innocent? We met by accident, okay? He works at the same hospital. There. He couldn’t have gone through medical school and passed the interview just to find me. He didn’t even know I worked there until recently.”

“He works at your hospital?” Dad asks, frowning. “As a doctor?”

“He’s an intern, just like me. Does that surprise you? Did you think he was going to fail at life just because he didn’t have much money when he was growing up?”

Dad remains still, but it’s the pregnant pause before a storm instead of the quiet reflection of a man who’s seen the error of his ways.

My mind races through all the things I’ve said so far. Did I make the wrong move somewhere? Have I misstepped?

“You’re moving back to Vegas with me,” Dad says resolutely. His facial expression is calm but stern. It reminds me of when I was a little girl and he was telling me to come back inside the house because it was getting dark outside.

Except I’m not a little girl anymore. He seems to keep forgetting that.

“Dad, you can’t tell me what to do anymore. At some point you have to accept that I’m in control of my own life now,” I say.

“What a silly thing to say. You’ve always been in control of your own life,” Dad scoffs. “I’m just showing you that you’re going in the wrong direction. I want you to do well and have a happy life. That boy is trouble.”

“Why?” I ask as storm rages in my chest. “What’s so wrong with Aiden? I know you hated him because he was poor, but that shouldn’t be a problem now, right? He’s a doctor, just like me. Just like you.”

“I don’t care about temporary poverty,” Dad says. “But I do have a problem with my daughter being with a gambler.”

“What are you talking about? He’s not a gambler.”

“Didn’t you tell your mom and your sister that you met him at the casino?” Dad asks, cocking a self-righteous eyebrow.

“That was just . . . It was one time! He used one coin!” I protest. “By that standard, I’m more of a gambler than he is. I sat there for a long time before he came over.”

“His father was a gambler, and you probably know how that man got himself into debt and put his whole family in danger by borrowing from questionable characters. His wife and his boy had to suffer the consequences of his actions, long after he’d died. I’m not going to just watch while you willingly put yourself in that kind of a situation.”

“Just because Aiden’s dad was a gambler doesn’t mean that he is, too.” I can’t believe I have to spell this out.

“Scientific studies have found a link between gambling addiction and genetics. If the father was a gambler, the odds are high that the boy is—or will be—as well.”

“He’s a man now, Dad. You need to stop calling him a ‘boy.’ And you need to stop treating me like a little girl. I’m a grown woman now. I can decide for myself what my dating deal breakers are. And let me tell you right now, having a gambler in the family is not a deal breaker for me.”

“Sure, you can do whatever you want,” Dad says, almost mockingly. “But first thing in the morning, I’m talking to Dr. Harris, the chief physician at Oak Crest Hospital, and telling him about your boyfriend’s bad character.”

My breath catches at my throat, but I try to keep a poker face. “You can’t just make Dr. Harris do whatever you want.”

Seriously. He can’t… right?

“Sure, Dr. Harris can choose to ignore my warning, but we all know how competitive internships at Oak Crest Hospital are. It wouldn’t be strange if Dr. Harris removes someone from the staff if he believes another doctor is more worthy of the position.”

“I can’t believe this.” I shift my attention to Mom. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“Your dad only wants the best for you,” Mom says softly.

“That’s true. I’m doing this for your own good,” Dad says, nodding in agreement.

Fuck! I want to tear my fucking hair out. My family is crazy. How is this normal?

“This is blackmail,” I say.

“In a few months, you’re going to see things my way,” Dad says.

“That’s unlikely.”

“Unlikely?” Dad raises a questioning eyebrow. “It worked when I saw signs of you detaching yourself from the family. I knew I could lose you if I didn't do anything. That's when I made the pre-emptive move to send that boy away. You started spending more time on the family and your studies, and now you’re well on your way to becoming a successful doctor.”

“What do you mean you knew you could lose me if you didn't do anything?” I ask suspiciously.

I was careful to hide my unhappiness at home and never shied away from my family. I knew the only way to make my parents see my relationship as a good thing was if I could balance my familial obligations and my time with Aiden.

I squint at my dad. If he’s capable of bribe and blackmail, he’s certainly capable of . . . “Did you read my diary?”

“All parents read their children’s diaries,” he says dismissively, with no hesitation.

“Oh my God. No, they don’t!” I can’t believe he’s defending himself.

My diary was full of private thoughts that I never intended to share with anyone. I did write some stupid shit about how I wanted to elope with Aiden, but I was never serious about it until one day Dad took away all avenues of communication with Aiden and—without my knowledge at the time—sent him all the way to a different state.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re moving to Vegas with me. I’ll prepare your transfer paperwork and you’ll be able to start working next week. You’ll like it there.”

“All you care about is winning, isn’t it?” I ask bitterly. “You don’t care about me.”

“On the contrary,” Dad says, “I’m going through all this trouble because I care about you. You don’t know what’s good for you, and it’s my job as your dad to steer you in the right direction.”

“Stop acting like you know what I need.” I protest.

“I’ll tell Dr. Harris you’re quitting,” Dad says.

“I’ll tell him I’m not.” I stare defiantly into Dad’s eyes.

“Then I’ll also tell him to fire your boyfriend,” Dad says without blinking. “Dr. Harris is excited about a new partnership between our hospitals, and he’s not going to jeopardize the deal for some intern.”

Shit.

I gave away my weakness.

I don’t care what Dad does to me; let’s face it, I’ll probably be fine without this job. But I can’t say the same about Aiden. He can’t afford to lose this position.

Dad stares sternly at me. “And if you still choose to be stubborn, I’ll have to ask your boyfriend’s mom to pay back the money I gave her ten years ago. She signed a contract in black and white, saying she’d do that if her son ever made contact with you again. And obviously—” Dad stares at where the hickey should be covered by the skin-tone concealer on my neck “—he has made contact with you.”

I return Dad’s stare, but my teeth are gritted, and my lips are zipped.

Aiden can’t afford to lose his paychecks. And he definitely can’t afford to pay back his mom’s massive debt to my dad.

Shit, shit, shit.

“You’re flying back to Vegas with us, first thing tomorrow morning,” Dad says with finality.