He’d been trying all week to distance himself emotionally from her, and he’d only made things more awkward. Since actively driving her away didn’t seem to be working, it was time to own up to his mistakes. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“You’re sorry?” She laughed. “Why on earth are you sorry? It’s not your family who’s bullied us into this stupid reception. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“No, I’ve been acting like a jerk.”
“No argument there,” she muttered.
“And it’s been worse for the past couple of days. I just—” Why was this so hard to say aloud? “I just don’t look forward to having you meet them.”
“Them?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
“My family.”
“Why? Because my family’s so great? With the manipulation and the backstabbing?”
“But they’re…” he let the sentence trail off, realizing how it would sound.
“They’re what?” When he didn’t answer, she arched a brow. “They’re rich. That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? You think wealth excuses bad behavior? Well, it doesn’t.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what are you afraid of? Do you think I’m going to think less of you once I meet your family? Once I see firsthand that you grew up in poverty?”
There was enough indignation in her voice that he knew better than to say yes. That’s exactly what he was afraid of.
As he pulled the car to a stop at a light, she shifted in the seat so she half faced him. “Be forewarned, I don’t care about your past or where you came from, but the rest of my family might. And Helen is a real piece of work. If she thinks she can make you look bad by yanking the skeletons out of your closet, she’ll do it. Just remember, no matter what she says, the fact that you come from a poor family doesn’t make you less worthy in my eyes. It makes you more worthy. Yes, my family is wealthy, but so what? I didn’t have to work for any of that money. You’ve worked for every penny you have. In my book, that says a lot.”
Listening to her words loosened some of the anxiety in his chest. He could almost believe that she was right. And that where he came from made him a better man.
Almost. But not quite.
Fourteen
She’d heard a lot about Cutie Pies, but most of it had been from Matt. Considering that his wife owned the place, she’d expected all the praise to be exaggerated, but was pleased to find that it wasn’t. It was a classic small-town diner on main street. It could have been found in any town in the United States. But rather than the standard greasy-spoon fare, the food was fresh, tasty and unique. However, at lunch, none of that made up for the tension hovering over the table like a dense, poisonous gas.
The atmosphere—compliments of Helen—was largely due to the fact that she’d invited Jonathon’s sisters and brothers to the lunch without mentioning it to him or to her.
What had promised to be a stressful meal anyway was made even worse by Helen’s interference. They arrived at the restaurant to find Helen and Hank Jr. out in front. Helen—as always a picture of moneyed, blond sophistication—looked horribly out of place in the homey diner. She gave air kisses to everyone, then linked arms with Mema and sashayed through the front door, the chime over her head tinkling, ringing the death knell of any hope Wendy had that this visit would go smoothly.
“I tried to call from the jet to reserve a table,” Helen was saying, “but apparently, this little place doesn’t even take reservations.”
Wendy surveyed the restaurant with its simple red upholstered booths and gleaming bar stools. “It’s a diner,” she said dryly. “Of course it doesn’t take reservations.”
The interior of Cutie Pies was clean but worn, the staff friendly but unsophisticated. Wendy instantly loved it. Helen—who would turn up her nose at anything just to show she could—offered strained smiles, as though it was a horrible burden to be forced to eat in such a place. She didn’t bother to hide it when she pulled an antiseptic wipe from her Gucci bag and gave the table a quick scrubbing before letting anyone sit down.
Then before anyone even had a chance to look over a menu, she hopped back up, standing behind Hank Jr. and talking as though she were hosting an elaborate dinner party.
“H.J. and I just want to thank y’all for coming for this reception we’re throwing for our little Gwen.”
Jonathon leaned close and whispered, “Their little Gwen?”
Wendy shot him a surprised look at the obvious amusement in his voice. Apparently poking fun at Helen’s extravagant efforts to stay in the spotlight was enough to dissolve the tension between them.