Page 53 of Big Girl Panties

"Her ex-husband is a lawyer," Mr. Wallace continued, like he was listing stock prices. "Very successful. Very stable."

The words came out before I could stop them. "Her ex-husband was also a massive," I caught Mrs. Wallace's warning look, but I couldn't stop myself, "dick too."

Mrs. Wallace's fork clattered against her plate as she coughed, while Brooke's eyes widened, her hand flying to cover her mouth mid-chew.

"What I mean," I continued, my voice gaining strength, "is that I don't care if he is the President of the United States or the inventor of sliced bread. Anyone who didn't appreciate what they had with Brooke had their priorities backward."

I dropped my fork with more force than necessary. "And honestly, sir, I'm surprised you'd want your daughter to settle for someone just because of their job title rather than how they treat her."

Mr. Wallace crossed his arms like he was defending a fortress. "I want to know she'll be financially secure."

I felt something snap inside me, not in an angry way, but in a finally-seeing-clearly way. "Right. Because financial security is definitely more important than, say, emotional support. Or respect. Or basic human decency." I stood up slowly, my chair making a satisfying screech. "You know what? I think I've heard enough reviews of your daughter for one evening."

I swallowed hard, willing the heat rising in my chest to subside. "Your daughter," I continued, my voice steady but firm, "runs a successful business, makes people happy every single day, and somehow manages to be kind and funny despite having to listen to this kind of nonsense on a regular basis." I extended my hand to Brooke. "What do you say we get out of here and get something to eat at Denny's?"

He huffed out a sarcastic laugh. "A coffee shop isn't exactly a career."

Brooke's chest rose and fell with deep, angry breaths as she stared at her father. "Neither is being a professional disappointment, but you've made it work." Brooke's gaze lifted to me. "You know what? I could really go for some pancakes." She pulled her napkin off her lap and dropped it on the table as she pushed her chair back.

I needed to leave before I throat-punched her father. God, no wonder she didn't believe she was good enough, because that was what she'd heard her entire life. Then she married someone just like him.

As we headed for the door, Mrs. Wallace called out, "It was lovely meeting you, Matt!"

Mr. Wallace just sat there looking like someone had rearranged his furniture. I paused at the doorway, turning back. "Your daughter is an amazingly beautiful woman. She's smart, funny, successful, and she deserves a hell of a lot better than you."

I didn't wait for a response. My hand found Brooke's, my jaw still clenched tight as I pulled her through the house. Each step through her family home felt like walking through a minefield of toxic memories. No wonder she'd married someone like Chris. This was her normal. The front door slammed behind us with a satisfying thud.

Cool evening air hit my face, but it did nothing to calm the fire in my chest. We didn't stop until we reached the end of the driveway, far enough from the house that I could finally breathe.

"What the fuck?" The words exploded out of me. It took a lot for me to lose my temper, but I have never in my life experienced something so vile come from someone who was supposed to love and protect them. It really puts things into perspective, like how lucky I was to have such amazing parents.

Behind me, Brooke's voice was barely audible, a tremor in her words. "I'm sorry."

I turned to face her, my brows furrowed with concern. "Brooke." My hands found hers, squeezing gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry that you had to live with that…" I ran my hand down my face. "Sorry, I know he's your dad, but…"

She forced a smile, the corners of her mouth lifting while her eyes remained dull. "It's okay. I understand. Davina won't even come here with me anymore because of him."

My hands curled into fists at my sides, then slowly unclenched. "I can't let him talk to you like that." I met Brooke's eyes, seeing the conflict there. "I know he's your dad, but…" The words caught in my throat. I ran a hand through my hair. "I wanted to body slam him on the dinner table. Why do you still come for dinner?"

"For my mom."

"Does he ridicule her like that, too?"

Brooke nodded. "He's had years to destroy her self-esteem, too."

I paced back and forth, brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay." My steps slowed as an idea formed. "Well, we can invite her out to dinner without him or something, but I…" My voice trailed off as I caught sight of Brooke's expression.

Brooke wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders hunching slightly. "This isn't your problem, Matt."

I stepped closer, gently cupping Brooke's face in my hands. Our eyes met, and I could see the vulnerability in hers. "Brooke." My voice softened. "You are mine, and that makes you my problem. If someone hurts you, then they hurt me too, and everything he said to you hurt me, so I know it had to hurt you."

Brooke's gaze drifted to the distance, her eyes glazing over with memories. "I used to try really hard to make him happy." A bitter smile twisted her lips. "But the only time he's ever said he was proud of me was when I married Chris." She shook her head, refocusing on me. "I stopped trying to make him happy a long time ago. I know who he is, and that's never going to change."

I searched her face. My voice was soft but intense. "So, are you trying to tell me you are going to continue to endure that kind of treatment for the rest of your life?"

Something shifted in Brooke's expression. Her shoulders straightened, and a spark of determination lit her eyes. "No, you're right." She took a deep breath, her voice growing stronger. "I'm done."

I reached out, gently taking Brooke's hands in mine. My thumbs traced circles on her skin as I spoke, my voice filled with concern. "I don't want you to do this for me." I hesitated, studying her face. "If you're not ready…"