“Take this,” she sighed, handing the servant a bowl of bright-red cherries that looked perfectly round. She scurried off, mumbling apologies.
Like clockwork, my mother sighed. “It’s not like I’m asking them to solve world hunger.” The room laughed, and conversation continued.
“Still seated at the end with the rejects and forgotten,” Theo said, reaching for a glass of water in a crystal goblet.
I clenched my teeth.
His cruel words shouldn’t be a surprise but after this morning… they hurt worse.
“I don’t care about her. I don’t care what they think. They can ship me off to Antarctica for all I care.” I couldn’t help myself. I spared a look down the table where Mom, Gray, and Gemma were seated together, laughing. Was I seated down here alone on purpose?
Of course I was.
He laughed, low. “You are so fucking transparent, Reject.”
I glared at him. If I thought earlier today meant something, that quickly taught me wrong.
“Well you’re pathetic,” I said. “A pathetic, lonely dog begging for scraps from our table.”
I folded my napkin neatly in my lap, pressing the silky linen, ignoring him and trying to ignore my family.
Then I felt it, his hand under the table, sliding up my thigh.
I jumped.
“Abigail,” my mother called. “Edward was just here.”
I lifted my head, trying to see past the row of people between us. “Who?”
“Your fiancé,” she answered, irritated.
Excuse me for not knowing the name of someone no one has introduced me to.
“Had you not spent the morning sleeping, you could’ve said hello.”
Well, thank fuck for that.
“We just learned you were in the same class at Rosey,” she continued. “Come share some of your stories with Mrs. Harlington.”
We’d gone to Rosey together? I tried to remember anyone with the last name Harlington. I’d had no friends, and, like most of my classmates, sobriety wasn’t really optional.
“He may join us later this week, for the Fourth,” Mrs. Harlington said.
I was getting used to the idea of having just a name for a fiancé. The idea I’d actually have to meet this Edward and actually marry him, made my throat close.
“Oh, that would be wonderful…” My mother trailed off.
I prepared to stand and make up some bullshit when Theo curled his hand inside my thigh, a halting grip. All I could focus on was how close he was. Too close, not close enough. I should’ve worn pants.
Thank God I didn’t wear pants.
“Stop,” I whimpered.
“What were you thinking about?” he whispered. “What had you saying my name like a fucking plea for mercy this morning?”
“Abigail,” my mother called out again, voice clipped, losing patience.
“Fuck.” Theo cursed low when he realized I hadn’t put on any panties.