Richard and Francine Miller are in their early sixties. They look like any other middle-class white couple, and if they weren’t my parents, I’d never give them another glance.

Instead, as soon as I spot them sitting at the bar of the expensive restaurant Davis picked out, my stomach does freaking flips.

“That’s them,” I say, nodding in their direction.

Davis sizes them up. My mother looks good, like she lost some weight, and she’s wearing her best jewelry. My father has on a pair of khaki slacks and a nice sport coat over a button-down light blue shirt. He’s staring at a glass of whisky in front of him, not smiling, while my mother talks to him.

I doubt he’s even listening. I bet he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Come on, let’s go,” Davis says.

“Wait.” I grab his arm. I take a deep breath.

He takes my hand. “It’s going to be okay, Carly,” he says softly. “I’m here. I’ll take care of everything.”

I stare into his eyes and for some reason, I believe him. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”

We walk over to my parents. My mother spots me right away and stands, beaming, as she gives me a hug.

“Mom, this is Davis,” I say. “I went to high school with him.”

“Hello, Mrs. Miller,” he says to her.

“Francine,” my mother insists. “It’s nice to meet you. This is my husband, Richard.”

Davis and my father eye each other up for a second. My father doesn’t smile.

Davis reaches out his hand, and they shake.

“Well, this is nice,” my mother says, smiling at me. “Oh, honey, you look good. Did you lose weight?”

“Nope,” I say. “Probably put some on since you last saw me.”

Dad grunts. “Is there even a table in here?” he says, cutting Mom off before she can say anything else. “It’s damn crowded. We were lucky to get a spot at the bar.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Davis says, and walks off toward the hostess.

I’m left standing there awkwardly with my parents. I haven’t seen them in person in a long time. I haven’t even spoken to my father in years.

I don’t know what to say.

“Well,” my mother says. “He seems nice.”

“Nice and rich,” Dad grunts.

I sigh. “Nice to see you too, Dad.”

He glances at me, but doesn’t say anything.

“Richard,” Mom warns. “Be nice.”

“I just don’t know why we’re here. The girl clearly doesn’t want us here.”

I blink, surprised. “No, I want you here,” I say quickly. “Seriously, I want both of you here. I want you guys to meet Davis.”

He grunts and Mom smiles. Before we can start talking awkwardly again, Davis and the hostess return.

We follow her to a table tucked away in the back. It’s the best table in the house, private but with a view of the rest of the room. Dad looks impressed as he sits down and we instantly fall into small talk, driven by Davis.

My mother asks him about his family, about what it was like going to high school with me. He shares some funny stories, and by the time our drinks arrive, even my dad is smiling a little bit.

I can’t shake my nerves, even though this is going well. I can’t help but think something is going to go wrong, anything is going to go wrong. It can’t go well. I haven’t had a good interaction with my parents in person in a very long time.

But somehow, Davis is siphoning off all the negative energy. Or at least he’s distracting us from it.

“Honestly,” he says. “Carly was really sweet in high school. I remember this one time, she wouldn’t say the word ‘coccyx’ because she thought it was a bad word. And we were in biology!”

Dad roars with laughter. Mom smiles and leans across the table toward me. “What’s that, honey?” she asks softly.

“That’s the scientific word for your tailbone.”

“Ah,” she says, nodding. “It does sound dirty.”

I grin a little bit. Dad’s still laughing, which doesn’t surprise me. Any story that makes me look like a moron is bound to amuse the hell out of him.

Eventually our food comes. Dad doesn’t say much, so it’s up to my mom and Davis to keep the conversation going. I try and interject what I can, but mostly I’m trying not to let my father’s surly silence get the best of me.

Nothing in this world can last. That’s the nature of our lives, they’re so fleeting and impermanent. And that same damn principle applies to my relationship with my father.

It’s always calm before the storm, no matter what.

“Tell me,” Dad says suddenly during a lull. “How is all that acting treating you, Carly?”

I frown at him. “Fine,” I say.

“Really? Land any big roles?”

“Carly’s been going on some really cool auditions,” Davis says quickly.

I shoot him a glare. “You don’t have to lie for me,” I say and look back at my father. “Davis is just being nice. I haven’t been on an audition in a while.”

“Oh, really?” he asks.

“Really. I know, I’m sure you’re very surprised.”

“I am. You gave up your life for this, after all. I figured you’d at least succeed at it.”

“Richard,” Mom warns him.

“No, it’s okay.” I lean toward my father. “He’s right. I failed at being an actress. But you know what? At least I had the courage to try something.”

“Instead of what? Working a steady job and supporting a family, like I did?”

“Pretty much,” I say.

He narrows his eyes. “You always were ungrateful.”

“And you always were miserable. You’re a bad example of how to live a life, Dad.”

That pisses him off. It always does. “What do you know about responsibility? We supported you for years.”

“You did, and I’m grateful for that,” I say softly.

“I cut you off for your own damn good.”

“I know you did.”

“And you never said thank you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Richard,” Mom says, getting worried.

“Nothing matters to you,” he says, ignoring her. “You only ever cared about yourself and what you want. You ignored my advice, and look at you now. Married to some rich guy you barely know.”

“Richard,” Mom says again.

“I know Davis,” I tell him.

“No, you don’t.” Dad leans toward me, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you tell people, but it’s obvious why you’re with this guy.”

Davis leans forward, grabbing Dad’s attention. “And why is that, Richard?” he asks him.

My father slowly looks at Davis. “Money,” he says. “She’s with you for money. Don’t you forget it. That girl only cares about herself, and you’re just the latest get-rich-quick scheme.”

I slam my hands down on the table. Mom jumps and Dad grins at me, a wicked glint in his eye. He loves nothing more in this world than pissing me the hell off.

And he did it. He succeeded like I knew he would. I was so afraid of this moment, afraid I’d embarrass myself, afraid I’d make a scene, afraid I’d say something to my parents that I’d regret forever.

Now that this moment has come, I find that I don’t give a fuck about any of that.

I open my mouth to tell my father all the things I’ve always wanted to say. I want to tell him that he was never as good of a dad as he thinks he was. He provided, but that was it. He was a cold, distant asshole, a controlling dickhead. He fucked me up, and I resent him for it. He’s a bad fucking person.

And it’s about to spill out, every word of it, when Davis puts his hand on top of mine.

For some reason, that stops me. I look at him, and his eyes are glowing. I swear, they’re glowing with a red-hot anger unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. He slowly turns that gaze onto my father.

“You don’t know your daughter,” he says softly.

“Oh, you think so?” my dad jeers. My mother looks mortified.

“No, you don’t. Your daughter is intelligent, beautiful, talented. She may not have succeeded as an actress yet, but if she wants to, she will. And she’s not with me because of my money, you idiot. She’s with me because I’m nice to her, which is something you’ve never bothered to be.” He pushes back from the table. “We’re leaving.”

I blink and stand up. I look at my mom. “Sorry,” I say to her. “Call me.”

She nods, resigned to her fate.

My father just laughs. “Go ahead, leave. You deserve each other, you fucking freaks. Go ahead and let her bleed you dry, Mr. Millionaire Asshole. See if I care.”

Davis makes a face. “She told me you were an asshole, Richard, but I didn’t realize you were also tacky.”

He turns and leaves the table. My eyes are wide and I’m grinning. I look at my dad and he’s glowering after Davis, angry beyond words.

I don’t need to say anything. I just hurry after Davis.

We leave together, head outside.

“That was…” I say to him, and he whirls on me.

“Don’t you ever let that fucker talk to you like that again, you hear me?”

He’s angry, glaring at me. I blink and nod. “Okay,” I say.

“Good. Fuck that guy. He’s such a fucking prick. I see why you don’t talk to him.”

“Davis,” I say softly.

“That fucking twat. I want to go back in there and beat the fucking shit out of him. How dare he talk about you that way?”

“Davis!”

He looks at me and lets out a breath. “What?”

“Thank you.”

He hesitates a second and smiles. “Sorry. I went overboard.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right. He is an asshole. And he’s tacky.” I step closer to Davis, get up on my tip-toes, and kiss him.

He pulls me against his body, kisses me deep and slow. It’s not the sort of kiss I expect from him. It’s not lust-filled, although there’s lust. It’s passionate, but it’s not smoldering.

It’s tender. It’s loving.

He breaks off. “Come on, let’s go home.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“I hope he enjoys that bill,” Davis says, taking my hand. “My meal was expensive.”

I grin at him. “Mine, too.”

He laughs and squeezes my hand. We walk together back toward the house, shoulder to shoulder. I feel better than I have in a long time, and it’s all because of him.

I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I can feel that anger I’ve harbored for him disappearing.

Davis isn’t the man I thought he was. He’s not the asshole I always imagined.

He’s so much more. He’s my husband. He’s nice to me when nobody else is nice to me. He even seems to believe in me.

And I believe him when he said that he was sorry about what happened back when we were kids. I believe him when I never thought I would.

I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. But I don’t want to stop. I don’t think I can stop.

There’s no going back from here.