"Well, it looks as if we're going to find out, anyway." Dad said, standing and smiling at someone behind me.
I turned, and saw Trent and his father heading towards our table. I shot Ryan a panicked glance as Dad moved forward to shake hands with Mr. Dexter, and then motion at two empty chairs that sat at our table. Ryan, however, looked just as stricken as I did.
Mr. Dexter had been working the room, typical for the consummate social climber he was, always worming his way into the good graces of whatever cabinet member or high-ranking staff member could push his personal agenda. While I was not exactly enamored with his behavior, it was not uncommon nor even remotely surprising in this city. Everyone in D.C. wanted power, except maybe my parents, and that came hand in hand with double dealing and promise breaking. Trent's despicable behavior hadn't been learned in a vacuum-men like Trent and his father were used to getting whatever caught their eye, be it women or influence or power. Once they got them, they moved on to something else. My rejection of him was a challenge that Trent just couldn't let pass.
"You look beautiful, Riley," Trent said, leaning toward me with that watery-eye glint that I supposed he thought made him look charming, flashing me his million dollar smile. It was all I could do to keep from snapping at him to leave me alone, but I opted instead to ignore him.
My father spoke to Mr. Dexter in animated tones, high spirited, but every so often he would glance at me, mildly curious as to why I dutifully ignored Trent even as he continued to speak to me.
"You can't be civil?" Ryan asked sotto voce and I cut him a cool look, silently telling him to mind his own business. My brother leaned back, pretending to look to his left while scooting closer to me so as not to be overheard by Trent, still hovering at my shoulder, wine glass in hand, but waving to someone across the room. "You being with Isaac is one thing. But you know if you ignore Trent, questions are going to be asked. Is that a conversation you're ready to have? Is that something you want to share with these nosy people?"
I closed my eyes, wishing for once that I could escape my life, shoot far away from my family and the lives we lived in Washington D.C. In that moment I only wanted to be on some imaginary island with Isaac, forgetting the world and everything in it but the two of us. No one mattered, no one existed in that place but me and the man I loved.
"Riley, are you all set for classes this upcoming semester?" I started, hitting my elbow on the table as Mr. Dexter's booming question cut through my private reverie and struggled to gain my composure as I noticed everyone around the table looking at me, politely waiting for my answer.
I crossed my leg, keeping my ankle out of reach of my brother's nudging foot. "Yes," I answered Mr. Dexter, falling back on my most practiced, sugary sweet expression. "I've enrolled in a course on the fall of Constantinople, one on statistical methodology, and Dr. Matthis is doing a seminar on the Protestant Reformation. Should be a good semester."
Trent's father smiled at me patronizingly. "Indeed, indeed," he crooned, but I don't think my answer even registered with him as he turned his attention to my father. "It's good you let her continue on with studying, Eric." His hand fell on my father's shoulder, in an attempt at a shared camaraderie. "Mind, it's best not to let young women become too invested in their studies."
"And why's that?" My father asked, his good-natured smile never lowering, but I could see the muscles in his jaw suddenly clench. Mom must have sensed something in his demeanor, in the way she sat up straighter, as if preparing to intervene if need be. "A good education is such an important part of any young person's development, women as well as men. Why on earth should my daughter, anyone's daughter, not be invested in their education?"
Trent's father didn't know my dad that well. Their paths crossed, yes, especially with Trent and me dating for a few months, but I don't believe they'd ever spoken about anything personal, certainly not outside of work. From the look of the effort my dad was having to go through to maintain his composure, I guessed that was likely a good thing.
"Ah, so," Mr. Dexter said, dismissing my father's question and turning to his son. "Trent, you must bring Riley back around next week. Your Uncle Ray will be in town; we'll have to take the boat out to show him the lake. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Riley?" He smiled at me as if he had just bestowed on me a great honor, nodding once as his own confirmation, fully expecting me to agree. When I only glared back at him, Mr. Dexter cleared his throat, obviously not used to his gestures being met with anything other than delight and gratitude.