Layla - Page 35

ChapterSeven

Layla

Mom had called me on my way home to say we were having a family dinner tonight, something we didn’t do that often, regardless of how close our homes were. Everyone had their own lives, and getting together wasn’t always feasible. Plus, peace and quiet were necessary, especially after working all day.

I’d stayed late to finish catching up on the clients I’d canceled yesterday, and I had the beginnings of a headache building behind my eyes. Still, this afternoon’s cases had all been very uplifting emotionally for me. I loved being able to help people who had areas they were struggling with that weren’t based on cosmetic enhancements, and that was why I’d wanted to do what I did.

And four of the clients had been men, which, for me, was huge.

Typically, things like Botox and fillers were associated with women who wanted to reverse the aging process or plump up their lips, but there was so much more to it than that, and this afternoon proved it.

But I had so much going on inside my head now that I wasn’t focusing on clients that my head was pounding. There was also a downside to my job, which was likely to be playing a huge part in my headache, and that was the fact my treatment room, my hands, and my arms were kept sterile for the patients.

I didn’t mind doing it at all, but the smell of the stuff I used—the same things they used to clean down beds and equipment in the ERs—was overpowering. I’d inherited my grandmother’s sensitive sense of smell. It was both a blessing and a curse, especially when you grew up with four brothers and countless male relatives who stank.

I was dragging ass as I made my way to the door of my parents’ house and braced myself for the noise that’d hit me when I got in there. Kids screaming, adults screaming, arguments, a million conversations…

What greeted me, though, was pure silence.

Knowing they’d already be seated at the large table Mom had bought a couple of years ago, I walked toward the extension they’d added just last year. It was an extended dining room designed by George Montgomery in an orangery style.

Yeah, I didn’t know what one of those was either until I’d looked it up and discovered it was just as it sounded. Some people wanted areas to grow oranges and plants like that in their homes. In essence, it was like a long greenhouse-type structure.

My parents had decided on a glass roof, and one wall was made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, while the other three were brick. It was gorgeous and long enough for the gazillion-person dining table they’d found in an estate sale and had refinished.

The second I got to the entrance to the dining room from the kitchen, I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t help it, I automatically checked to see where Cole was, expecting to find him bandaged or missing. Finding him sitting next to Ren, I frowned and looked for Gramps and my other brothers.

There was a specific order to who was the most likely to be injured or missing, and once I’d ruled them all out, I checked to see if any of the other chairs were empty.

There was just one—mine.

And then I realized the cause for the silence. Mark was in the chair next to where I was meant to sit, and all of the males in the family, kids included, were glaring at him.

“Evening?” The greeting came out as a question seeing as how I didn’t know what I’d just walked into.

Determined not to let any of them know how much the situation had thrown me—it paid never to let my family scent your fear—I walked casually over to the empty chair and sat down.

Laid down the table were platters and bowls filled with food, but no one had touched them or put any on their plates, making it even weirder.

“Evening, sweetheart,” Mom said with a big smile. Usually, her smiles and greetings made me feel loved, but this one looked scary. There were way too many teeth, and her eyes were just freaky. “We decided to have a family dinner tonight. I just don’t see enough of my kids anymore.”

Was she insane? We were all at the hospital together yesterday, had a family get together last weekend, and normally she yelled at my brothers to get out of her house.

Still, I didn’t want to rock the boat or do anything that could invoke further insanity from my family.

“That sounds… nice?”

Her demonic smile stayed in place, but her jaws didn’t move when she answered me. “Doesn’t it? And Mark’s joining us.”

I knew she was doing the same thing I was, trying to act casual and like nothing was wrong so she didn’t tip the crazy ones over the edge. Shit, what exactly had I walked into?

“Let’s eat,” Dad ground out, his voice sounding like he’d gargled with sand. “I’m starving.”

The platters and bowls were passed around the table as we put food on our plates, and I almost smiled at what Mom had made.

The only meal that’d work magic in this situation was her steak with mashed potatoes, green beans and peas, and a creamy peppercorn sauce that’d make the Gods cry. It was the one thing that’d keep everyone quiet and focused on eating instead of arguing. Well, it was normally arguing, but I’d be stupid not to know tonight’s issues would be down to Mark if people started talking. I just couldn’t figure out why he was even here?

Oh, shit, were they going to push for the divorce?

Tags: Mary B. Moore Romance
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