He smiled, but it faded when his eyes slid to the couple at the next table. They’d heard the waiter congratulate us.
I saw them glance at my dress, Daniel’s jacket, and our burgers. Then they shared a pitying smile.
« I married you, not your potatoes. »
« Your family would’ve cared about that, » he said.
« My family isn’t here. »
« Because of me. »
« Because of their pride. »
That pride had a name: Connor.
« My family isn’t here. »
Connor was my dad’s boss, a young millionaire with polished shoes and a polished voice. He’d offered me everything my parents wanted for me: a five-carat ring, a penthouse, and cars I couldn’t pronounce.
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