I had no idea what to expect, but I felt nervous. Incredibly so. Wyatt called me earlier today, asking if he could meet with me and my parents at my house tonight. I should've known that he knew it was my evening off. He knew my work schedule by now. Was he checking up on me? I wasn't sure if I felt flattered or… no, I felt flattered.

I missed Wyatt and I couldn't deny that, but felt torn between following my heart, as trite as that sounded, and respecting and honoring my parents wishes. Things were still chilly between myself and my parents, and I began to wonder if they would ever forgive me for what I had done. The fact that my dad's case had been dropped before he went to trial was wonderful, but I hadn't known that at the time, had I?

What was it they said about Murphy's Law? My actions had caused irreparable damage to my relationship with my parents, or a least I felt like it had. My father had been cool and distant ever since Iva Cross had left our home. I have tried to be really angry with Wyatt's mom, but I suppose she had just been trying to protect her son. Like my parents had always done for me. But wasn't it time that I also stepped up to the plate, did what I could to protect my parents? I had tried to explain to them that that's what I had been trying to do, but it's like a block wall came up when I tried to take it further, to tell them that I had grown very fond of Wyatt. The one time I had admitted that to my mom last week, that I loved Wyatt, she'd nearly taken my head off. Not physically, but her words had cut deep.

I knew they felt bad about this change in our relationship. We had always been a very close family, none of us keeping secrets. At least that's what I had thought. Why hadn't my mother told me about their visits to the lawyer, that things weren't quite as dire as I had imagined? Why hadn't they confided in me that their lawyer had told them that the investigation into the thefts at my dad's place of work were still under investigation, that there were other suspects they were also looking at? What was I supposed to think, especially since he had been arrested and put in jail?

How was I supposed to know? They'd kept secrets too! I found myself growing increasingly frustrated and annoyed. We all kept secrets. Sometimes because we didn't want to be discovered and sometimes to protect the ones we love. It just didn't make sense that they could still be so angry with me for doing what I had. It had been my decision. But I knew why. They were mad that I had sacrificed my virginity for their sake. Instead of being grateful, they were pissed.

So, during the past week, since that horrible visit by Iva Cross, I'd been walking around my house on eggshells. Polite but knowing that neither one of them wanted to hear anything I had to say. I began to wonder if maybe Wyatt was right, that maybe I should start thinking about living life on my own. The damage had been done and I wasn't sure if it ever could be repaired, or if we could ever go back to the way we used to be.

The doorbell rang and I froze. I glanced at the clock, knew that it was Wyatt, on time, down to the minute, as always. I was still surprised my parents had agreed to allow him to come over. Maybe they were curious. Maybe they wanted to give him a piece of their mind. I didn't know. I heard my father walking down the hallway outside of my room, followed seconds later by the sound of my mom's wheelchair. After it passed, I opened my bedroom door and followed.

My dad grumbled as he headed for the front door. I glanced down at Mom, but she didn't look at me. Warm tears filled my eyes and I reached out to touch her shoulder, then changed my mind. Maybe later. When Dad opened the front door and I saw Wyatt for the first time in too many days to count, I felt a rush of affection, of relief, along with a myriad of emotions racing through me. My heart rate accelerated, and for an instant, my worries disappeared. That's the kind of effect he had on me.

"Mister Hunt," Wyatt said, standing on the tiny porch. "Thank you for seeing me."

My dad didn't say anything but backed up a step, opened the door wider, and tilted his head, gesturing Wyatt inside. Wyatt looked at me and our gazes locked, that silent communication filling me with a sense of hope and dread at the same time. I had no idea why Wyatt had come or what he planned on saying. He swallowed, then glanced down at my mom.

“Missus Hunt."

Neither of my parents returned the greeting. I couldn't help but be annoyed, as my parents had always taught me to be polite, even when I didn't feel like it. I spoke up. "Hello, Wyatt," I said, standing stiffly behind my mom's wheelchair, my father moving to stand behind her on the other side, glaring at Wyatt. I clasped my hands in front of me, trying to still their trembling as Wyatt stood just inside the door, looking at all of us.

He cleared his throat and spoke without preamble.

"First of all, I want to offer my sincere apology for so selfishly taking advantage of your family's vulnerability." His eyes focused on my parents as he said this. Then he turned to me, his eyes softening as we stared at one another. "I should never have agreed to Riley's proposal—"

"Then why did you?" Dad interrupted, his tone harsh and angry.

"Dad," I said, not wanting to get into an argument when Wyatt had obviously come here to apologize.

Dad turned on me. "Don't you dare shush me, Riley. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" He turned to Wyatt and pointed a finger at him. "And you should too, taking advantage of my daughter—"

Wyatt lifted his hands. "Mister Hunt, please let me finish." He paused, waiting for my dad to stop his mumbling. I saw Dad holding on to one of the handles of Mom's wheelchair, holding it so tightly his knuckles turned white. I glanced between him and Wyatt, hoping that this wouldn't turn into something even worse.

"As I said, I never should've agreed to Riley's proposal, but the truth of the matter is that my feelings for her are real."

A small smile quirked his lips and he glanced at me. My heart trip-hammered again.

"I love your daughter and I want to make this right. I want you to know that while our initial meeting was… well, different… I enjoyed spending time with your daughter, getting to know her, and… and falling in love with her."

I stared at Wyatt, my heart pounding now, my head spinning. He was in love with me? Wyatt Cross, billionaire, man about town, the playboy, was in love with me? I couldn't tamp down the surge of pleasure that swept through me, because the truth of the matter was I loved him too. Unfortunately, it didn't appear that my parents believed him. It was so quiet in the room you could have heard a pin drop.

Wyatt continued. "As a peace offering, and in an effort to make amends, I'm proposing to pay off your mortgage, free and clear. No strings. I can give both you, Mister Hunt, and Riley, a job at my company, which includes yearly bonuses, distributions into individual Roth IRA accounts, and retirement bene—"

"How dare you!" Dad exploded.

I turned toward my father in dismay, my eyes wide as I saw his face, red as a tomato, his hands now for stood at his side. "Dad—“

"How dare you!" he raged. "How dare you come to our home and treat us like a charity case! We don't need your help, or your favors, or your attempt to buy away your own guilt in this whole sordid affair!"

I frowned at Dad and then glanced at Wyatt, who appeared just as startled as I was by his outburst. I tried to speak. "Dad, he's not offering us charity, he's—"

Dad turned on me, the look on his face prompting me to take a step back. He'd never been so angry with me, not even after Iva Cross dropped her bombshell on my family. A stubby finger pointed at me.

"Not another word out of you, young lady!"

I felt my face flush with heat and blinked back tears of hurt. He was really mad at me. Was he going to order me to move out? That I had shamed the family so severely that our relationship could never recover?

"Mister Hunt—"

"I want you to leave, right now. We don't need your payoffs or your guilt offerings. What's done is done!"

Dad took a step toward him, hands still balled into fists, jaw thrust forward, eyebrows pulled low, his face a mask of anger. Wyatt stood unmoving, hands loose at his sides, as if he wouldn't defend himself against an attack. Once again, he spoke.

"Mister Hunt, I take full responsibility for what happened. Please don't blame Riley." Then, after a long exhale, and offering yet another soft apology, he turned toward me.

"Riley, I—"

Dad took another step closer. "I want you out of my house before something bad happens to you."

I felt… devastated. I felt a hollow feeling encompass my stomach as a cold chill ran through me. Knowing that I'd probably never see Wyatt again after my dad's outburst. Once again, I wondered if maybe it was time to start thinking about moving out on my own, but it wouldn't matter now. It was too late for Wyatt and me. The damage had been done. I admired Wyatt's courage for coming over here and trying to apologize and reason with my parents. But it wasn't enough for them. I watched wordlessly, my heart breaking, as he finally offered a nod, glanced one more time at me, and then left the house, closing the door softly behind him.

I choked back a sob as I turned toward the hallway and quickly walked back to my room, knowing that he was gone and he would never come back.