“I’m proud of you too.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I took off before I could throw myself at him and ruin the words by asking him not to fight. On shaking legs, I hurried down the hall toward the doors that led out into the main room of the second floor.

As soon as I burst into the space, I halted. Laid out before the main ring were rows and rows of folding chairs. Catering staff moved up and down the aisles with canapés and champagne, offering them to the high society guests who had dressed up in their finery.

“Parker, darling.” A soft voice somehow cut through the loud murmur and the music blaring through the PA system. My gaze followed the familiar voice—my mom. She stood by the front-row seats where my father, Easton, and her fiancé Oliver were sitting. She waved me over, and I hurried to take the seat next to her after stopping to kiss everyone’s cheeks.

My mom took my hand in hers. “Are you nervous?”

“Am I that obvious?”

She patted my hand. “A mother always knows.”

“No need to be nervous, Peanut.” Dad’s head popped into sight around my mom’s. “Your guy is some fighter.”

“Yes, that might be true, Charles, but a woman in love doesn’t particularly rejoice in seeing another man smash his fists into her boyfriend’s face.”

My gaze flew to my mom’s at the mention of love. “Am I that obvious?” I repeated.

She smiled, her eyes bright with affection. “Like I said, a mother always knows.”

Relaxing deeper into her side, my fingers tightening around hers, I thought about how easily my family had accepted Rhys in my life. How happy they were to see me moving on. We had our differences, and I’d spent a great deal of my life worried I’d failed them, but I had a great family. “A good mom.”

“What, darling?”

“A good mom always knows.” I took a deep, shuddering sigh, impulsively deciding to be honest. Rhys and I had talked about coming clean to my family regarding how we really met—we knew we should, but we hadn’t discussed when. Needing a distraction from my worry over Rhys, I turned in my seat and said, “You knew there was something between us probably before we did.”

Mom frowned at my shaky tone and Dad leaned closer at her side. “Peanut?”

Just say it.

Get it over with.

And hope they don’t disown you.

“My old boss wasn’t going to give me a permanent contract because he’s horrible and he was only interested in married employees or employees who had shown some kind of commitment in their personal lives. Say, having a long-term relationship, a mortgage, or kids.”

“That’s illegal,” Mom snapped, her eyes glittering with outrage.

“I know. But it was Franklin Fairchild. He’s a little difficult to dissuade.”