Page 44 of Heartless
The woman sitting next to me took his teasing as a pro. She flashed her brother a smile nowhere near genuine, but she didn’t seem bothered by his attempts to rile her up.
“I brought a boy home. Where is your fiancée? Did she finally figure out she could do better with literally any other guy in a thousand-mile radius?”
“Not yet. Let’s hope she stays in the dark.” Tyler reached over to Clem’s plate, took a baby carrot, and tossed it in his mouth.
“For God’s sake, Tyler. Fix yourself a plate.”
“Yes, Mom.” He stood up and went to the kitchen.
When he returned with a glass and a plate, Sylvia started a conversation with him, probably trying to control what came out of his mouth. “How is Hannah doing? If she feels that bad, maybe you two should take advantage of Madison being back home and ask her to organize your wedding.”
I was close enough to Madison to hear her sharp inhale. I glanced at her. She was looking down at her dish, but I was pretty sure she was holding her breath, waiting for Tyler’s response.
“Yeah. Because she did such a good job with Clem’s wedding.”
“She is a professional. Hannah is not,” Sylvia ignored the topic of Clementine’s wedding disaster that almost happened because of... Well, Madison and me.
“I’m afraid I need Madison way too much at The Gem,” I intervened and accompanied my statement by wrapping my hand around the back of Madison’s neck and rubbing my thumb over her smooth skin. A shudder went through her body. She tried to suppress it, but I felt it. Then I felt the goosebumps rising on her skin.
“I bet you need her.” Tyler wiggled his brows. We all knew what he was implying.
“Tyler,” Sylvia warned him.
I removed my hand from Madison and played the part of the presentable boyfriend by complimenting Sylvia’s cooking. She started babbling on and on about the preparations. Then she found a way to link the topic to Madison.
“Everything else Madison agreed to learn and excelled at. Just not cooking.” That explained her demand to include the room service inher contract. “She speaks perfect French. Did she tell you that? She had a private teacher.”
I shook my head, acutely aware that everyone was silent, listening to the conversation Sylvia and I were having. “I didn’t know that.”
“Four years. Three times a week. Did she tell you about the ballet?”
“Yes. That she did.”
“Such a waste. I still haven’t fully forgiven her for quitting. She practiced for eleven years. She started when she was five. That’s where her perfect posture comes from.”
Everyone shoved food into their mouths silently, while Sylvia presented her daughter to me like a pricey horse I was supposed to buy. I started to get really annoyed.
“Then one day when she was sixteen, she came home and told me she wanted to quit. To become a cheerleader. Can you imagine my horror? Of course, it was all related to a boy.”
The accusation in her tone was obvious, but I laughed it off. “Isn’t that something we all go through? Fall in love with someone and start doing things we never even thought of before we met them.”
Madison stiffened beside me. Then I felt her eyes on my profile as I looked at Sylvia, who seemed to not know how to react. Because of the content of my statement, or simply the fact that I contradicted her, I didn’t know, but she just blinked for a few seconds, then agreed reluctantly. “I suppose.”
A satisfied smile spread across my face, and Madison kicked me under the table. I shot her a disbelieving look. She just sat there silently taking shit from her brother and her mother like a freakin robot without an ounce of emotional response, and she had the nerve to kick me when I tried to defend her.
The entire thing just rubbed me the wrong way, so I addressed her mother again. “Tell me, Sylvia. Do you believe in aliens?”
Chapter Fifteen
Madison
“Ican't believe you did that,” I started the moment we entered Parker’s car.
“Did what?” He played dumb and waved my mother and Mike goodbye through the window. Clementine, Lucas and Tyler left about an hour earlier than us.
“Talk about aliens for forty-five minutes.”
He smiled, pleased with himself. “I wanted to change the subject. It worked.”
