“Once or twice,” I shoot her one of my friendly camera smiles. It’s always a little awkward meeting people who recognize me but can’t place me. That split second when they can’t figure out if they’ve seen me on TV or if we go to the same gym. But, then again, I feel like I already know enough about this woman myself.
“Same person,” Rosie rushes out from my side, her cheeks pink. Andrea gapes at me but Rosie drags my attention to the other people gathered around the table. “This is my Dad, Terry and my sister, Cleo.”
Her sister, Cleo, stands and angles towards me with a smile that I assume is supposed to be seductive. Despite her conventional good looks and heavy makeup, she’s got nothing on Rosie.
I cut her off with a friendly wave before crossing back to the kitchen counter where Rosie is dishing up a bowl of risotto.
I take a dramatic sniff. “Smells lovely.” I spot little white chunks swimming in the stew and lower my voice. “Updating the recipe?”
Rosie’s shoulders stiffen as she whispers, “Mum brought some cooked chicken to add.”
I frown at her but she shakes me off and takes my bowl back to the table and sets it beside her seat. Unfortunately, it sets me right next to the sister, who brushes her hair back insuch an exaggerated motion that I think she might topple off her chair.
“SoJackson,” she says, resting her hand on her head and leaning closer to me. “How do you know Rosa-pee?”
The way she says the nickname sets my teeth on edge, a little malicious glint in her eye as she enunciates the ‘pee’. I lean back, resting my arm lightly along the back of Rosie’s chair.
“Mutual friends,” I say with a tight smile. “What are you guys doing down this way? It’s nice of you to come and visit your daughter.” I’m being a dick but I don’t care.
Rosie straightens in her seat and I gently tug a strand of her hair before trailing my hand along her shoulder.
“No, we were at Cleo’s launch event,” Andrea says sitting up straighter in her seat. “She wore such beautiful a dress, you should have seen it. Everyone there was saying that pink is just her color.”
I nod my head politely.
“Her post gota quarter of a millionlikes.” Andrea emphasizes it like I should be impressed.
I’m not.
“Yeah, I saw it,” Rosie says quietly, scooping up a spoonful.
“Is it true you’re dating Ashley Peters?” Cleo asks, leaning her head on her hands and tilting her body towards me, fluttering her false eyelashes.
I feel Rosie freeze up next to me and I restrain myself from tugging her into my lap and claiming her in front of her entire family. “No,” I say firmly, angling away from her and closer to Rosie.
Cleo shares a look with her mother. I’ve spent enough years watching my sisters and mother communicate with their eyes that I know something passed between them.
“How are you finding London?” Andrea asks me brightly. “Cleo can always take you on a tour. There’s an amazing restaurant in Kensington–”
My blood boils under my veins. Why do they think I’m here? Do they think I spiritually connected with Cleo from LA and something tugged me to a random flat in Clapham so I could sit here at a dinner table where none of the occupants were invited?
I hope that whatever delusions these guys have misses our kid in the gene pool. I grimace. “No, thank you.”
I curl my fingers around the back of Rosie’s chair, almost ready to pick it up and carry her out of here.
Cleo flicks her hair over her shoulder and rests her hand close to my arm. Before she gets any ideas I pull my hand under the table.
“If you change your mind, I can give you my number.” Cleo purrs. “Or you can DM me, I won’t let you get lost. I get so many messages it’s hard to keep track sometimes, you know how it is.”
Rosie’s fork clatters against her bowl and I watch her shoulders hunch inwards. I remove my hand from the back of her chair and drape my arm over her lap instead, gripping her thigh and running my thumb along her jeans. It will be a cold day in hell when I willingly message that girl. Rosie’s cold hand gently rests over my fingers and I try to take a calming breath.
Changing tactics, I turn to Rosie’s father. “Terry, Rosie tells me you’re retired.” Terry blinks in surprise, but I shoulder on. “Picked up any hobbies?” Please have some hobbies, Terry. Please.
“Well yes…I’ve got a 8700 Vintage Model Train set set up in the?—.”
“He spends all his time in the garage,” Andreainterrupts, rolling her eyes. “It’s like I haven’t even got a husband anymore. He’s gone full granddad.”
Rosie tenses under my hand.
