“Is that where you two originally met?” my mother asked, looking between the two of us.

“Yes, Mother. We were in the same class.”

“Though our first introduction was a bit unorthodox,” Deborah joked, glancing in my direction.

It helped to lighten my own mood, and I reached over and pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered, “I’ve more than made up for that little indiscretion.” If we hadn’t been sitting around a dinner table with my parents, I would’ve done a hell of a lot more than whisper in her ear.

Deborah gave me a sly grin.

My mother went on to say something about Glamour Cosmetics, and she and Deborah broke off into a conversation. I mostly remained silent, letting the women talk, but I kept an eye on my father. His face read displeasure, which wasn’t uncommon at all. However, the way his eyes kept drifting to Deborah’s clasped hand in mine, spoke to how he really felt about our union.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Four heads peered up from the table where we’d been eating our meal to find my brother, Jason, staring down at us, a stupid smirk covering his face.

I frowned as the odor from whatever cheap alcohol he’d gotten his hands on practically punched me in the nose. And while that was bad enough, it was the sight of the woman in a leather jacket, tight, ripped jeans, and a half shirt who he had his arm wrapped around that really pissed me off.

“Jason.” My father’s voice was clipped as he glared at my younger brother and the woman he’d shown up with.

Jason’s smirk widened. “Oh, thank you,” he said to the hostess, who’d brought over two extra chairs for he and his date. He made a big show of making space for himself and the woman at the table. “Here, Lydia. This is Lydia, by the way,” he introduced, glancing around.

“Hey,” she responded waving at everyone at the table.

My father huffed. “You’re nearly an hour late and you make this spectacle?” my father stated in a hushed tone across the table toward my brother.

“What? I apologized. You want me to do so again? Fine. I’m sorry, big brother, for arriving late to your dinner to introduce us to your …” He paused when he finally looked at Deborah. His eyes narrowed. “You look familiar. I’m Jason—”

“Don’t fucking touch her,” I growled as he reached his arm out for her to shake.

“Robert—” Deborah began, but I shook my head.

“No. We have no idea where his hands have been.” I glanced at the woman next to him whose eyes were halfway closed. “Keep your hands to yourself.”