Page 89 of Crave Me
“How’s your store doing?” Cassie asked. I almost choked on a bite of mouth-watering turkey. She hadn’t glanced my way since she’d taken a seat.
“Um. Good.” I patted my mouth with a napkin. “Actually, it’s going great. I’ve had to hire more temporary employees this year than last. We’re anticipating Black Friday sales and this coming weekend doing at least twice as much business as last year.”
“How wonderful, dear,” my mom said.
“Does this mean you’ll be able to get out of the closet you call an apartment anytime soon?” Cassie asked.
My head snapped back like she’d slapped me. “What?”
“Cassie, don’t be rude,” my mom said.
Cassie ignored her. She went back to elegantly cutting into her turkey with the grace of a model. She was always so perfectly polished from her haircut, ending in perfect sharp edges just beneath her chin to her gray silk blouse, still perfectly pressed and wrinkle-free even though she had to have been wearing it for hours. Even her makeup was still perfectly applied, not a smudge in sight. Cassie speared me with a glare that had a heat in it I’d never seen from her. “What? I’m just suggesting Chloe could be doing something more with her life than working retail.”
What the hell? My head spun like she’d thrown me on a Tilt-A-Whirl. I forced myself to set down my silverware gently instead of slamming it onto the plate. “Iownmy business, Cassie. I don’t just work retail, and even if I did, why would you suddenly be so disrespectful and rude to me? Especially here, at dinner?”
She arched one brow slowly, pierced a bite of beans with her fork and held it to her mouth. “Really? You can’t imagine why I’d be rude to you?” She chewed her food and with every passing moment, fury inside me turned to ice, chilling me. “Come on, now Chloe. Don’t play me for a fool.”
Holy shit. She knew.
I couldn’t believe her. I couldn’t even bear to turn and look at either of my parents to see their expressions.
I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “If you know, then you also know now is not the appropriate time. And if you’d like to discuss this with me, like an adult, then we can wait until after dinner and do it privately. Okay?”
“Will someone please tell me what in the hell is going on between you?” My dad growled the question, slamming down his beer. He rarely lost his temper and I jumped at the loud noise.
“Oh, that’s easy.” Cassie smirked at me, and turned back to my dad. “Chloe is dating the man who abused me.”
Mom gasped. “What? Chloe—”
I shook my head. It was the only thing I could do. Somehow, I’d lost the ability to speak.
“Please, tell me you’re not, honey.” My mom’s hand covered mine, her warmth igniting a spark in me. I tugged it way from her and placed my hands in my lap.
“I can’t believe you—”
“You? You can’t believe me? Simon Delgado beat me. A man I thought I loved and would marry someday and he beat me! And now I hear from friends who still live here that he’s been seen around town with you and you’ve been to his hockey games? How could you do that to me?”
“Chloe.” Dad’s eyes were filled with pain. “Is this true?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Yes. No. It was and it wasn’t and my God, this was not how I wanted to explain any of it. We were supposed to have hidden this.
But God.
I curled my hands into my lap beneath the table until my nails dug into my palms. The sting helped me focus. And damn, was I really so screwed up now that I needed pain just to have a conversation?
“I’m not dating Simon,” I said to my dad. As humiliating as the truth was going to be, especially now, in front of my parents, I wasn’t a liar and there was no way to sugar coat it. I faced Cassie. “I don’t know why you chose a family dinner to do this, and I think it’s absolutely disgusting that you’d bring it up now like we’re children and I just cut your Barbie’s hair, but you’re wrong. I’m not dating Simon. He’s training me.”
Her face twisted into disgust.
On one side, my mother whispered, “Training you?”
On the other side, my dad cursed. “I don’t think I want to hear any more.”
My sister was undeterred. “He’s abusing you and you don’t even realize it.”
“Cassie, he’s not.”
“Please, God help me. I do not want my daughters discussing this,” my dad muttered.
