“I’ll get it,” Becca says, since she’s closer to the fridge.
“No.” Margaret practically pushes me into an overstuffed chair and shoos Becca out of the way to take a pitcher from the fridge herself.
I’ve seen some women try to compete with their daughters, which I consider to be the dumbest thing ever. Why compete against somebody who’s at least two decades younger, with tauter skin and perkier tits? It’s like a lightweight boxer trying to punch out a heavyweight. But this is a first.
Margaret hands me a tall glass of the iced tea. I take a sip and immediately wish I were dead. It’s disgustingly syrupy. It even has the texture of syrup, reminding me of rock slime at low tide. Becca’s tea was sweet, but at least it was refreshing. This one is just gross.
Still, I need to survive this ridiculous dinner. “It’s really good. Maybe Becca should have some, too. She’s been working hard in the kitchen to bake that pie.” I hand her my tea. “Here, sweetheart. You need fluids more than me.”
Becca takes it, although her eyes say she knows exactly what I’m doing.
“I can get you another glass,” Margaret says.
Hell fucking no. “Actually, let me just have water. I’m counting my calories.”
“Calories?” Margaret stares like it’s the first time she’s heard the word. “What on earth for?”
“These abs come at a price.” I pat my stomach. “And I want to save room for that steak. According to Becca, you’ve got the magic touch with a grill.”
Margaret lights up. “I have been called God’s gift to grilling, if I may say so.”
You may, as long as you don’t try to give me any more of that disgusting iced tea. “Well, let’s go ahead and get dinner going, then. I’ll be happy to help.”
Chapter Nineteen
Becca
I sigh with relief as Grandma takes Devlin out into the backyard. She must really like him. But then, she could never resist flattery from a “handsome young man.”
I thought I’d moved beyond that. I’ve heard my share of lines from men who wanted to pick me up at bars…and my ex-boyfriends said some sweet things when we started dating.
But what Devlin said to Grandma sort of short-circuited my head. Every word was just…perfect. I know he was lying through his teeth, but my heart started to race anyway when he started going on about a daughter we could have together and how he loved me too much to wait.
Even now, my heart is still galloping. And my skin is taut and hot with lust. But it isn’t like any lust I’ve ever felt. It’s…softer. Sweeter.
And therefore more dangerous.
I put the glass of iced tea against my heated cheek. Our “marriage” is going to end in a year, once I get my parents’ home and the studio that comes with it. I shouldn’t let my guard down over what Devlin said, no matter how convincing he sounded. He probably says stuff like that all the time to seduce women. Women flock to him anyway because he’s a rock star, but he probably needs more than just his fame to get them into bed with him. And sweet, empty words will do the trick when a woman is looking for an excuse to believe them.
The door opens with a loud bang, Sylvie’s signature entrance when she wants to feel extra important. I’m sure she’s feeling a particularly keen anguish that Devlin really showed up. She was mad when she found out about our marriage, but she was hoping that I was lying or that there was some other magical explanation to make it untrue.
I brace for a fight.
“I can’t believe you drove,” Sylvie says as she places a bowl of coleslaw on the counter. “It isn’t that far from your place to here. Don’t you care about saving the planet?”
I raise my eyebrows. The planet? Sylvie’s only capable of caring about herself. What’s up with her today? Then it suddenly hits me that Dev
lin and I drove his car here. It must be the Maserati.
I give her a thin smile. “Devlin didn’t want to walk. He made the salad, and he was tired.” I add the last part just to see her reaction because I can see Devlin opening the sliding door to the backyard and coming inside. And I want to know what he’ll say to Sylvie’s reaction.
Sylvie notices Devlin too, and immediately swivels toward me and waves a finger in my face. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you made him slave away in the kitchen like that! I’d never do that to my husband!”
“It wasn’t that hard to chop some veggies,” Devlin says.
She pulls back a little. Her breath comes out unevenly. If lungs could stutter… “You’re too nice,” she says finally.
“I’m Devlin, actually. Becca’s husband.”