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Her eyes flare, and she looks intrigued, but she doesn’t ask questions. “Everyone’s already in the dining room. Aunt Viv’s fashionably late.” Flat and monotone, she adds, “Shocker.”
Together, we walk into the dining room. I’m eternally grateful to have Chance on one side and Kayla on the other because when all eyes focus on me, I swear my knees knock.
Everyset of eyes. There’s an old man, an old woman, who I assume are Chance’s grandfather and grandmother, and next to the old man is Charles Harrington. He’s a lion of a man, broad-chested and just starting to go silver-maned. Handsomeness runs in the Harrington family genes, that’s for sure.
“Samantha?” Mrs. Harrington says, her eyes wide and jumping from Chance to Kayla to Luna before returning to me. “What a lovely surprise!” she says, her manners kicking in.
I haven’t seen her since Luna and Carter’slastwedding—long story—but she stands to greet me warmly. “Hello, Mrs. Harrington,” I reply as she wraps me in a polite, friendly hug. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Hush that formal nonsense. You know you can call me Miranda.” She swishes her hand with the order, as if she has no idea why anyone would behave uppity and on their best behavior around her. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight. Let me get you a chair by Luna.”
She turns to Cole, who’s sitting next to Luna, instantly shuffling chairs in her mind.
“Uhm, Mom,” Chance says, “Samantha’s here... with me.”
I thought everyone was looking at me before, now they’relookingat me. I can almost feel them taking my measure in an entirely new way.
“Let the games begin!” Kayla announces in a low, amused voice, heading to what must be her seat.
“You can still sit by me,” Luna rushes to say, nearly begging me to not freak out the way she said she did the first time she came to a Harrington dinner.
At the same time, Carter’s giving Chance a hard time, chuckling as he offers, “Thought surprise dates at family dinners were my thing.”
“Wasyour thing,” Luna corrects. “We all know the next surprise date you have will be your last.”
Everyone laughs, and Carter shrugs, knowing she’s right. I’m proud of her. My bestie’s come a long way in speaking her mind, and her marriage is happier for it.
“Can someone please tell me what the hell’s going on?” the older man says, obviously accustomed to being the man in power in every room he steps into. “Young lady, I’m Charles Harrington, Senior, and you are...?” he trails off, prompting for me to fill in an answer.
“Grandpa Chuck, this is Samantha Redding,” Chance says. “My date.”
Talk about a just-the-facts, bare-boned answer, but given what Chance quickly told me of his grandfather and the vibe he gives off, I’m not surprised. Until...
Senior leans over to Junior, and not bothering to lower his voice at all, asks, “Do we like her or is she a gold digger after my grandson? She looks a little cheap.”
“Chuck!” the old woman at his side admonishes with a backhand to his bicep. “You can’t go around saying stuff like that where people can hear you. It’s impolite.”
I notice she doesn’t tell him that he can’t say it, only that it shouldn’t be in public.
“Beth, I can say whatever I want. It’s one of the privileges of being me,” he argues back.
I get the feeling this is their norm—he says something outrageous, she calls him on it, he dismisses her, and lather, rinse, repeat like cheap shampoo.
With Chuck and Beth involved, it’s like everyone is holding their breath, even Chance, as it’s decided whether or not I’ll be accepted at the dinner table.
Fuck that.
“I can’t speak for whether Mr. Harrington likes me, but I can assure you, I’m not a gold digger. I would rather Chance be broke as a joke than have to deal with your crusty judgment.” Though I can only see to the top of the table, I look him up and down, as if he’s the one who should be worried, and then hold his gaze unflinchingly.
A moment of utter silence and stillness stretches. I can tell that no one speaks to old Chuckie like that, but I’m not going to bow down to him because he’s richer than Bezos. I’m impressed by people because they’re kind and care for others, are smart and generous, and things like that. Everything about Chuck might as well scream he’s more about money than character.
Finally, he grumbles, “You’ll have to sign a pre-nup.”
It’s not approval, but it’s taken as such, everyone releasing their held breath.
“Not getting married, so not a problem,” I quip back, taking the win because Chance is squeezing my hand and my goal in being here is to support him.
And maybe cause a little shake-up to this whole situation where he feels like he’s not enough for his parents. Well, his dad.
