Bryson's POV
I feel stiff as hell in this tux, every movement awkward as I sit in the back of Richard's fancy car. The leather seats are too perfect, and I keep worrying I'm going to mess something up just by breathing.
Mom looks completely at ease beside me, smiling and chatting like she was born for this world. Her blue dress catches the light from the streetlamps, and she looks happier than I've seen her in years.
"Remember," Richard says from the front seat, his voice calm but firm, "tonight is about making good impressions. Be polite, be respectful, and let them get to know you."
The words settle heavily on my chest. My fingers tremble in my lap, and I clench them into fists to make them stop.
"You'll do fine, sweetheart," Mom says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "
