Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“You’re not telling her the truth?” I ask too harshly.
“No way,” she says too quickly. “Definitely not. She’d eat me alive.”
“Good,” I growl. “As long as we have an understanding and maintain total opsec.”
The hate she smiles back almost makes me laugh.
I remember it’s not just my parents we need to convince, but Julia barely notices us, already looking like she’s made herself at home.
Later, we find out she drove down from Portland ahead of us. There’s damn near nothing that would’ve stopped her from being here.
Hattie’s her only daughter, don’t you know.
Dad makes himself useful today, keeping the drinks flowing throughout this torture session. I grab the bottle on our end of the table and fill Hattie’s wineglass to the brim.
She grabs the stem like it’s a lifeline and sucks it down so fast I almost laugh.
“If you want the full medicinal effect, you have to pace yourself,” I mutter.
Ares, finally bored from Mom’s needy scratches, waddles over and collapses at my feet with a loud groan.
I give him a knowing look. He’s perfectly positioned for table scraps.
Pretty sure this bottomless pit with ears that reach the floor has chowed down on more fine food in his lifetime than eighty percent of the human population.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Hattie whispers, shaking her head.
“Be glad they’re not looking at us.” I nod at our parents, lost in conversation. Mom leaves Julia awed, talking about their last trip to Greece.
The chef emerges soon with his creations, laying them out on the table. All the classics are here and I can’t complain—gyoza, milk bread, and hibachi fried rice with a half dozen fresh sushi rolls and neatly arranged sashimi. Piles of tempura, golden brown and cooked to perfection. Hot rocks waiting for small cuts of A5 wagyu on demand.
Julia dominates the conversation, even when she’s gushing about my parents’ travels and their recent charity work in rainforest preservation.
Charity.
It’s obvious she hasn’t done her research if she’s this easily impressed—my parents love to pretend they’re fighters for a cause, campaigning for the end of deforestation or whatever it is this time, but really, it’s just another excuse to travel without other rich people nagging about their carbon footprint.
This time, it was a glorified glamping trip to Thailand and Vietnam.
Hattie lingers beside me, mostly silent. I’m content to keep quiet too, enjoying the feast and feeding Ares’ greedy mouth small scraps under the table.
His tail thumps the floor like a drumstick.
The old beast is the happiest one here by far, easily satisfied.
He’s not so bad when he’s fed, though. I could’ve inherited a far worse dog.
I ignore the way Mom’s eyes stab me every time Julia Sage stops talking to inhale more rice and wine. Someone could care less about her carb intake today.
I also notice the way Julia kicks Hattie’s leg under the table.
She leans over and mouths a few hurried words, looking pointedly at Hattie’s half-full plate, and it only takes me a second to figure out what she’s signaling.
Watch your portion.
What the fuck?
Not a chance.
Not here, not today, not right under my nose.
Hattie’s shoulders lock up. She looks down at her plate with pale-faced shame, and my hands ball into fists under the table.
I reach for her hand, prying it open.
She jumps at the touch.
I don’t look at her as I unfurl her fingers and link them with mine.
“Excuse me, Chef.” My smile feels like it’s doing a shitty job of hiding my teeth. “Can we get more hibachi rice and lobster rolls, please? More of that yum yum sauce, yeah. Fill the bowls to the top.”
I lock eyes with Julia.
Fuck yes, I want her to know I overheard what she whispered to Hattie, right in front of my parents, and it was unacceptable as hell.
If Hattie needs carbs to help take the edge off this agony, let her have them.
I don’t care if she isn’t a damn stick.
She’s curvy and real and fucking stunning.
There’s nothing wrong with her.
And I’m not about to sit and watch this nagging obsession with what she eats.
Julia turns red and clams up, finally leaving Hattie’s leg alone.
When Hattie moves again, she squeezes my hand hard.
She doesn’t say anything, not overtly, but it’s easy to get the message.
Thank you.
Dinner takes too long, but eventually we escape outside to the beach, only a short walk down from the boathouse out back.
Ares gives us the perfect excuse, needing a walk and a bathroom break after eating half his weight in sushi scraps.
The overgrown lump doesn’t truly care to move around, but I drag him along anyway.
Hattie joins me gratefully, sighing the instant we’re out the door.
For once, the silence between us feels easy, light.
I’m not looking for idle conversation, and she doesn’t look like she’s searching for the least painful way to crawl out of her skin anymore.