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She wraps her arms around me, and her sweet vanilla scent surrounds me. I expect to clam up, to feel on edge and uncomfortable, but I don’t. I’ve never felt so relaxed and comfortable around people I’ve just met. There’s just something about these girls.

I lean into her hug, not realizing how badly I need this. My parents aren’t affectionate people. Sure, I know they love me, but they are not the type of parents to show love in the form of hugs or physical touch.

Tears roll down my cheeks and I quickly swipe them away. Feeling so vulnerable in this moment, but strangely, feeling safe to be.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to need in on the hug,” Ali announces, getting up from her spot on the couch and sitting the other side of me, wrapping her arms around me.

We sit like that for what feels like hours. They let me cry my silent tears and just sit with me. No words needed, no questions asked.

Wiping my eyes, I exhale a long breath.

“Wow, what a great first impression, huh?” I laugh nervously.

“You’re fine, babe. We would never judge you. We’ve been where you are. Coming here is scary. It’s the unknown. But trust me, we’ve got you, okay? Stick with us, Gabs, and you’ll be fine,” Ali says, brushing my tears away with the pad of her thumb.

Even though I’ve only just met these girls, and I’ve not shared a word of my story, I’ve never felt more accepted, more supported, or more seen than I do right now. Like maybe I am enough. I have a feeling with them by my side I may be able to navigate my way through this nightmare I’m currently living in.

Chapter One

Gabriella

“… not sure what time I’ll be back, but I’ll text you. It’s chaos here. Diana is ready to rip someone a new one.” Ali’s exasperated voice booms through my car’s Bluetooth as I drive.

I chuckle. “No worries. God only knows how long this dinner with my parents at the country club will take. Apparently, they have a surprise for me.” My tone is mocking.

“Let’s hope it’s not like the last surprise when they tried to set you up with that dud, Adam.” I shiver at the memory. Adam was, without a doubt, the most boring man I’d ever met. My big toe holds more charisma than he has in his entire body. He just sat there, talking about his retirement plans and the problem with today’s society—that we are all about living for the here and now and don’t plan for our futures. Riveting date conversation. I feltbad as my parents really believed he was a great match, so I said it was a mutual thing and we just didn’t vibe.

“Oh, God, don’t remind me.” I sigh.

“Babe, I better go. Diana is on the warpath. Have fun, love you, bye.”

“Love you, bye,” I repeat before hitting the call end button on the screen of my Lexus. A gift from my parents. A gift, like all gifts, came with strings. I was to meet for weekly, sometimes twice weekly, meals. They were less than thrilled when I moved in with Ali, aged eighteen, when I attended Juilliard. My parents wanted me to remain at home where they couldkeep me safe,which was actually code for, control my life. So, for the past six years, I have done the hour drive to see them for dinner. In my mind, it’s been a small price to pay for the freedom I have gained since living with Ali and truthfully, it helps ease the guilt I feel over what happened when I was a teen.

I pull into the country club entrance, glancing out the window at the golf course that surrounds the club, that familiar burn of anxiety hitting the back of my throat at the idea of seeing my parents. I won’t see them for a while as we are away next week for Ria’s bachelorette weekend. So, all I need to do is smile and nod and make it through the next few hours. Parking up, I exit my car, taking my purse, and handing my keys to the valet guy. I smile sweetly and make my way through the large automatic door, heading straight for the ladies’ bathroom to freshen up before meeting my parents.

The bathroom is white with gold accents and the smell of lilies fills the air as I scurry into the stall before anyone can see me. Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, I take off my tennis shoes and swap them for the black pumps I keep in my purse. My mother despises my casual look, as she calls it, so I make sure to wear my best clothes and heels whenever I see her.

Making my way out of the stall and to the basin, I take out my favorite nude lipstick from my purse, coating my lips before puckering them. I’ve never been big on makeup. I’ve always had naturally long lashes, thick dark hair, and olive skin, thanks to my dad’s Spanish roots. I smooth a hand over my head, making sure not a hair is out of place in my sleek ponytail. I take a few seconds to look at my reflection, analyzing if there is anything my mother or father could disapprove of. I’ve paired a simple white blouse with a beige tweed skirt, a skirt I hate, but it’s Catherine Monroe approved.

As I wash my hands, that familiar thump-thump of my heart returns. Seeing my parents always stirs up a level of anxiety that I find difficult to control. With shaky hands, I take a towel and dry them so vigorously my skin begins to sting. I toss the towel in the hamper, and with all the strength I can muster, I head out towards the members’ lounge.

The minute I enter the vast room, I spot my mother, and a lead weight drops into the pit of stomach when I notice it’s not just her and my dad. With every step I take, my heart rate picks up and the urge to flee intensifies. Just before I can even think of a swift getaway plan, my mother waves me down with an enthusiastic arm.

“Gabriella, darling, over here,” she practically purrs.

I head for my mother, leaning down to kiss her cheek, her Coco Chanel perfume invading my nostrils, making me feel a little queasy. It should be a comforting smell as it’s all my mother has worn since I can remember, but that scent drags up feelings of failure, disappointment, and inadequacy.

“Mom, lovely to see you.” My dad rises to his feet, buttoning up his suit jacket to greet me, making me feel like I’m a business associate, an acquaintance, not his daughter. He gives me a half-hearted hug and a kiss to the cheek, then follows up with pulling out my chair next to my mother, and I dutifully take my seat, myeyes widening when I settle on the three unfamiliar faces sitting across from us.

“Hello,” I say hesitantly.

“Darling, do you remember me telling you about Janet and Carl?”

No

“Oh yes,” I reply in a way my parents would expect me to.

“and this is their wonderful son, Patrick.” My eyes turn and lock on the tall blond guy who’s sitting next to his dad. He looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine. He has the whole prep school vibe going on. Big blue eyes, dirty blond hair, and a smile that looks like it cost a fortune. Just like every other guy my mother has tried to set me up with.