“You think she’d want to hear it with all these people here?”
Sariah nodded. “Not in front of them, of course, but if it were me, I’d be sick later knowing I posed for photos and listened to his bullshit toast and danced with him while all these people watched, and one of them is his mistress. It’s disgusting.”
“You’re right.”
She cringed and let go of my hand. “You’re seriously sweaty.”
“Tell me about it.”
She slipped her shoes back on and stood. “We’re going back in there and finding your mom immediately.”
I nodded. Now that we’d decided to do this, I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.
We walked back into the ballroom and my mom’s face lit up when she saw us coming.
“Nash, where have you been? I have some friends I want to introduce you to.”
She walked us over to a group of six couples, and my father was talking to one of the men.
“We finally get to meet your famous son,” one of the women said, hugging me.
I said hello to everyone, shook hands, gave hugs, and talked hockey. Apparently my parents had hosted playoff-viewing parties at their house and this group of people had been there.
“Have you tried your mother’s pucking amazing ribs?” one of the women asked me. “They are to die for.”
I looked at my mom, amused. “Pucking amazing?”
She laughed and shrugged. “I like themes when I’m hosting. And it’s hard to get creative with so many playoff games.”
My father put his arm around her, gazing at her like a man in love. “She made these homemade Ding Dongs that looked like pucks. Isn’t that clever?”
“Oh!”
My mom held up a finger and I turned to see who was trying to get her attention. It was a woman with a camera.
“Be right there, Samantha!” she said.
Hooking one arm through my father’s and another through mine, she said, “It’s time to get some photos with my favorite two men.”
Fuck. I shot a panicked look at Sariah, and she gave me a wide-eyed, just-fucking-do-it look.
My heart was pounding as I said, “Hey Mom, before we do that, can Sariah and I have a word with you?”
She looked confused. “Right now?”
“Right now.”
My father intervened. “Surely it’s nothing that can’t wait until after the pictures.”
“It can’t wait,” I insisted. “It needs to be now.”
Her smile was like a knife to my chest. It hurt to know that I was the reason her life was about to implode.
“Honey, if you’d like Sariah to be in the photos, that’s absolutely fine,” my mom said. “Since you haven’t brought a woman home in years, I’m assuming it’s serious with you two.”
I swallowed hard. If only that was what I wanted to tell her.
“Mom, let’s just step away for a little bit,” I said. “It won’t take long.”
“Nash,” my father said sternly. “We have a lot of guests and a schedule to keep.”
Fuck him. He was worried I was about to expose him. This was so long overdue.
“If I want to talk to my mom privately for five minutes, I will,” I said curtly.
I led my mom away, Sariah following.
“Nash, what’s come over you?” my mom murmured. “It’s not like you to talk to your father that way.”
“Never mind that,” I said. “You just need to trust me on this.”
I turned to Sariah. “Where should we go?”
She furrowed her brow, looking puzzled. “The rental car? I’m not sure where else we can have complete privacy.”
“What is going on here?” my mom asked, as I led her out of the ballroom and to the front entrance of the hotel. “I have a ballroom full of guests in there, Nash. Can’t we just talk right here?”
I handed the valet my ticket.
“No, Mom, we can’t.”
“Are you engaged?” She looked hopefully between Sariah and me. “Oh my god, are you pregnant, Sariah? Please tell me you’re pregnant. I want grandchildren so badly, but I never wanted to pressure Nash.”
This was so fucking painful. My dad had been playing my mom for so long, and I could have stopped it at any time. Sariah was right—it was time to man up.
The valet pulled up with my rental car, and when he opened the passenger door, my mom gave me a bewildered look.
“I’m not leaving my own party.”
“Mom, just get in the car.”
“Where are we going? This is crazy and you won’t even tell me what’s going on.”
Sariah laid a hand on my mom’s forearm. “Nita, there’s something you need to know, and we’re just asking you for five minutes to talk to you privately.”
“Something’s wrong.” My mom’s eyes widened with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Please just get in the car,” I pleaded.
She did, and Sariah made sure her dress was fully inside before the valet closed her door. I opened Sariah’s door and passed the valet a tip.
As soon as I pulled away from the hotel, my mom turned to me, concern etched on her face.