Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Oh just… let it go,” Janet seethes before standing and storming out of the restaurant.
The waitress slowly rises, turning to face Ray. “Sir, I am so sorr—”
“What’s your name?” he barks, ice in his voice.
“Thuy.”
“Thuy, do you want to hear what I have to say, or would you prefer to bring me your manager?”
Her neck flushed, chin shaking, Thuy jogs off, and I look around as Alex, Charlie, Jake, and Kellan return to their breakfasts. Blaire sits back in her chair, her jaw tight, eyes fixed at a point in the distance. I glance at Liam, who is staring with fire up at his father. “Dad,” he says steadily, “you ran into her.”
Ray waves a hand. “It’s fine.”
Reagan catches my eye and panic consumes her expression. This isn’t only embarrassing for her, it’s probably terrifying. I give her a reassuring smile and mouth, “It’s okay.”
But I’ve lied. It isn’t okay. The manager comes out, listens as Ray quietly enumerates the many transgressions this poor woman has made upon him and his family, and then shakes Ray’s hand saying, “I’ll handle it.”
Ray sits back down in his seat, lifts his napkin, and lets it float down over his lap, picking up his fork like nothing has happened.
“Tell me you didn’t have that woman fired,” Liam says.
Ray stills, a bite of caviar-topped poached eggs hovering on the fork in front of him. “You think someone like that should be working in a Michelin-starred restaurant?”
“Maybe a one-star, definitely not two,” Jake jokes with mock seriousness, and Charlie and Kellan exhale quiet, courteous laughs.
But Liam remains undeterred: “You collided with her, Dad.”
“Do you have any idea how much I’m paying for this wedding?”
Blaire stands up, dropping her napkin on the table and walking away, tilting her head for Reagan to follow. Ray doesn’t even seem to notice. Around us, the three other Weston siblings and Kellan eat in silence, pretending they don’t hear any of this. Only the three little boys look around in confusion, trying to read the cues.
It’s for them that I speak up: “Whatever you’re paying, it isn’t enough for you to treat a waitress like that.”
Ray turns his stony gaze to me, and it takes everything in me to not look away. “She’s in the service industry,” he says flatly. “It’s her job to be invisible.”
Liam cuts out a sharp “Dad.”
Ray continues to stare at me for a handful of seconds before slowly blinking his gaze over to Liam. “I need you to give Ellis some time at the reception today.”
He’s just made his point: Anna, too, should be invisible.
“Ellis Sikora?” Alex asks, while Liam and Ray have a silent showdown. “From Forbes?”
I pull a deep breath in through my nose, turning my attention to my plate. My heart rolls violently, a catfight in my chest. In my peripheral vision, I see Liam’s hands curled into fists on either side of his plate.
I feel when he turns to look at me and meet his gaze. I’m relieved to see the same horror I feel reflected back in his eyes. Yes, this morning has been an amazing smorgasbord of sex, and perfect bites of pineapple, and smiling whiskey eyes, and good news, and even better news. But reality washes over me like ice water. This dynamic isn’t kooky and wonderful. This family isn’t a charming group with a few warts. This family is gross. Liam is paying me a sum of money that I wouldn’t earn in three years working two jobs and yet, with Dad’s medical expenses, it won’t even last me the rest of the year. Meanwhile, these assholes are buying a house for a honeymoon and firing a waitress Ray basically tackled for spilling mimosa on a shirt he got for free. I feel like sweeping my arm down the table and sending all the fancy crystal and porcelain crashing to the floor.
I drop my napkin on my plate and stand. Without a word, Liam does the same, and we walk together out of the restaurant.
Twenty-Nine
LIAM
Anna’s strides are so long, I have to jog to join her at the transition from restaurant steps to beach sand, where I catch her wrist but don’t use the contact to slow her down or try to bring her back. I wouldn’t dare. Instead, I slide my hand a few inches down her arm, entwining her fingers with mine.
It’s awkward walking on sand with our hands joined, but neither of us loosens our grip. Honestly, I feel sick. Sick over how entitled my parents are, sick over how silent Alex, Jake, and Charlie remained throughout all of it. Sick over that level of flippant privilege happening in front of the children. Sick over being a part of this family at all anymore.
And sick with worry that this was a bridge too far for Anna. That I’m too closely associated with something so horrible. When I glance over at her, her nostrils are flared, jaw tight, and I see the way she swallows, like she’s fighting tears.