“And this is the pride and joy of the house,” my old man says, pointing to me. “This is my son, Colver.”
“Clover?” Abrielle’s mother asks.
Abrielle’s snorts with laughter.
I look in her direction and she turns and hurries outside.
Fucking naughty kitten… I’ll make her pay for that later…
“Colver,” I correct my new alleged stepmom.
“I am so sorry about that,” she says in a happy voice. “You know, Abrielle gets that all the time. Gabrielle. You two should get along just on that alone!”
“Definitely,” I say.
I feel my father staring daggers at me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” I say.
“Heather.”
“Heather,” I say. “What a beautiful name that is.”
“Charming young man you are.”
“Runs in the family, right, Dad?”
That gets a laugh out of both of them.
I smile.
Look at this bullshit. This fake family bullshit.
“Can I get you a drink, sweetie?” my old man asks his new bride.
“Something to celebrate us?” Heather asks.
Ut-oh, there it is. The shovel is in the ground, digging already.
“Most expensive wine I’ve got?”
“Only if you love me.”
I can fucking throw up right now.
I properly excuse myself and walk back to the hallway where Abrielle and I were so perfectly introduced.
I don’t hesitate for a second to go into the room she’s chosen (so far).
Her bag is on the bed.
The way I see it is her bag is on the bed that’s in the house I live in.
She needs to learn how to protect her shit and herself.
Welcome to having a fucking family, kitten.
There are two parts to her bag.
