She really had planned to walk right back out the door when they’d arrived ten minutes after her. But her mother had implored her not to make a scene. “It’s not always about you, dear,” Jeanine had quietly pointed out.

Plus, her father had been behaving so well tonight. A kiss on the cheek without all the unwelcome advice about her career. Angela and their mother had refrained from asking after Justine’s dreaded ex, whom they’d all liked. And even Scott—Angela’s husband—had been pleasant at first greeting instead of treating her like a wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Then the proverbial sound of trumpets heralded the coming apocalypse—the dinner bell and forced conversation.

“That’s the timer,” her mother cheerfully announced, as if she’d cooked their meal. The catering staff came out moments later with their salads and wine.

Used to fancy dinners where the caterers came and went, Justine didn’t think much of her parents’ wealth. They hadn’t been born rich. They’d had to work for it. But somehow, raising their three children, they’d forgotten how the average person lived. Something she knew quite well, living independently, and appreciated.

Justine made her own choices about life, living like a pauper, yes, but on her own two feet. Unlike her sisters, who didn’t hurt financially but also had to obey their parents in regards to their professional and personal lives or be threatened to be cut off.

“Thanks for coming Cal, Nick,” her father said in a booming voice before shooting her an expectant look.

“So glad for the invite, Mr. Ferrera.” Cal—Bachelor Number One—said.

“Yes, thank you,” came from Nick—Bachelor Number Two.

The pair had dark hair, similar builds, and politeness swimming in their DNA.

“We always love having Dad’s people for a visit,” Justine agreed and gave the perfunctory fake smile, which eased the grim expression on her father’s face. He turned to Scott and started on the finance talk, including Cal and Nick. Not to be ignored, Angela put her two cents in whenever a lull fell, and the dinner passed pleasantly enough.

A Seattle Surf and Turf platter—King Salmon and Kobe filet—sat in the middle of the table filled with mashed potatoes, rice pilaf, asparagus, roasted beets with goat cheese drizzled with a dark vinaigrette, honey glazed carrots, and a few more delectable dishes that made Justine drool. Heck, she hadn’t been eating this well in...well, since the last time she’d been to the house.

She concentrated on her meal, doing her best not to fall on it like a starving woman, and gave occasional murmurs of interest when Mallory gushed over wedding plans.

Fortunately, Ted seemed more interested in her father’s conversation than his fiancée’s, so she was able to ignore him.

Midway through the meal, Cal and Nick began talking to her more, asking more personal questions.

“Oh, she’s single,” her mother sang, having apparently paid more attention to Justine than she’d thought. “She broke up with her ex-boyfriend a while ago.”