“Stop.” The word rips out of my throat loud enough that people at the surrounding tables turn to look at me.

This dinner is a freaking nightmare. Seriously, it gives Saw a run for its money with the number of torture implements used.

Don’t get me wrong—dinner with my parents normally is, to some extent. I just didn’t think it would be quite this awful.

First with my mom bringing up the arrangement—aka they’re waiting for me to fail—because that was their ultimatum for paying for my degree. If I couldn’t find and keep work within six months of graduating, then I had to come to work for them.

And second, my parents attempting to give Reid an interrogation of sorts, and he, well…he pushed back in typical Reid style.

I’d finally had enough and shot back at them in his defense. I just couldn’t stomach sitting at that table and allow them to stare down their noses at him. When it comes to me, it’s different. I’m used to it. I’ve dealt with it all my life. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit by and let them talk down to a man like he’s some good-for-nothing loser with nothing going for him. God, when it comes to Reid, it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

So I did it. I stood up to my parents for the first time in my life.

When I was fourteen, I wanted to join the dance team. The sequined costumes, the awesome dance moves, and just how cool everyone on the team seemed as they performed at one of the beginning-of-the-year pep rallies called to me. I remember bringing home the permission slip for try-outs, the corners of the pages wilted because I’d clenched the folded form in my sweaty palm, waiting for my mom to get home. My parents weren’t the type to let me join extracurricular activities that would get in the way of my schoolwork.

I waited until we sat down to dinner. I pushed my peas around on my plate and swallowed hard, trying to build up my courage. I could see myself with glitter in my hair, wearing wing-tipped eyeliner just like the girls on the team.

“I want to try out for the dance team,” I’d blurted out.

“Why would you want to do that?” My mom’s nose had wrinkled.

“Waste of time,” my dad had said, not even bothering to look up from cutting a piece of chicken.

“But—”

“End of story,” Dad had said. And that was that. There was no arguing with them.

After dinner, I’d blinked back tears, crumpled the permission form, and chucked it in the garbage. That was just one of the many times my parents dictated what was and wasn’t important.

Not anymore. I’m done bending to their every whim, taking their scrutiny. Especially about Reid.

I flatten my hands on the table and look from my mom to my dad. “Reid is an incredible employee and man. He donates his time to his grandmother and her friends and goes above and beyond when he sees anyone in need.”

I toss my napkin on my half-eaten risotto and push back from the table. I’d take Taco Bell over this any day. “I’m not about to sit by and watch as you berate him.”

I turn to find Reid’s startled gaze on me. “Are you ready to leave?” I ask.

Without hesitation, he stands and addresses my parents. “Martin. Clara.” His voice is low, so as not to draw attention, but still lethal with a steely undertone. “Your daughter is amazing, and you should be proud of her, of the person she is.”

I hold out my hand, and when Reid grasps it, I lead him away, ignoring the disapproving glares from my parents.

Now, as we ride back in the cab to my apartment, we’re ensconced in silence. Reid hasn’t relinquished his hold on my hand yet, and I’m afraid to wonder if that means anything.

Moments later, we arrive at my apartment building entrance. As soon as we’re out of the cab and standing by the doors, I falter as uncertainty courses through me.

Reid loosens his tie, avoiding eye contact. I draw in a deep, fortifying breath. “Thank you for doing this. And I’m so sorry it was awf—”

“Is it always like that?” he interrupts suddenly. He turns his head to settle his gaze on me. “Do they always treat you that way?”

I release a humorless laugh. “Tonight pretty much sums up my entire life.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and regards me with unnerving intensity. “You did the right thing by standing up to them.”

My lips part to thank him, but he continues with, “It also reaffirmed something else for me.”

I eye him warily. “What’s that?” A part of me is afraid to hear his answer.

He shakes his head and stares down at his shoes for a beat. When he raises his blue eyes to meet mine, they hold a faint glimmer of anguish. “You’re nothing like them. And I don’t care what they say. You never have to go work for them.”

He clears his throat, suddenly looking uncertain. “We come from different places, Rainbow.” His voice is hoarse as though it’s painful for him to say this. “You and your fancy scotches and wines, fancy restaurants.” He shakes his head. “It’s not my world, but I don’t give a fuck.”

It’s as though someone’s reached inside me, wrapped their fist around my heart, and is squeezing painfully.

I realize that I’ve rubbed this in his face. I didn’t even think of how uncomfortable this dinner would make him.

I shake my head. The last thing I want is for Reid to feel belittled. I knew it was a mistake to ask him to come. “That’s not my world anymore. I don’t want that kind of life.” My next words are rushed, and I start backing away, moving closer to the doors of my apartment building. “I’m so sorry about tonight. I know it was torture.”

I go to reach for my door, ready to spend the rest of the night indulging in Chunky Monkey and banging my head against a solid surface.

“The night doesn’t have to end that way,” he says, a small smile tipping at his lips.

“It doesn’t?” I’m still in full sulk mode. Honestly, nothing but hard alcohol or ice cream is going to take away this headache of a night.

His lips move to my neck and kiss down to my chest. “I think there’s a chance to salvage it.”

With that, he tugs open the door and guides me inside.