As the glory that is Barbie singing “Keep On Dancing” fills the car, Ruby’s shoulders lose some of their tension, and she tips her head onto Will’s shoulder, a miniscule smile emerging on her face in the mirror. Roman’s frown abates, and his eyes soften. Oh so casual, he reaches out to tick the volume up a few notches.
Begrudgingly, I acknowledge that, as annoying and rude ashe is, he does have his moments—especially where it concerns Ruby. I send a thank-you into the sky for that, because it means that my bestie will always know the care of her big brother.
My heart warms even as a sliver of nasty jealousy eats through my stomach.
I turn the music up two more notches to drown it out.
Chapter Nine
Yes. There are still a lot of people. Godspeed.
Elodie
Sitting around a large round table in the back room of one of Iferous’ fanciest restaurants, I’m pretty sure I’ve found food heaven.
“They have tiny little pink cakes,” I tell Ruby, seated to my right. “Tiny! Little! Pink! Cakes!”
She grunts, unimpressed.
Liam, though, rests his gaze on me, a spark of something that feels like approval glittering in its depths.
“They havelittle pink cakes,” Amelia, two seats to my left, whispers in awe. “Brian, did you see?”
Liam’s approval transfers to her, and I look too, just in time to see Brian rest his head in his hand, the better to peer at his love in adoration. “I saw, A-mail-ia. A stamp of approval from us all.”
She blushes, adorably, and I smile. These guys arecute.
“The menu?” Ruby prods, reminding me that I am not fulfilling the duty I rock-paper-scissored Will to get.
“Sorry, Rubes,” I mutter, twisting back to my job. “Where were we?”
“Desserts,” she answers drily. “But I believe we were supposed to be at the appetizers.”
“Cake is a great appetizer,” Liam says.
“Is it now?” Amber asks, amused. When her husbandappears confused by the question, she sighs into a smile. “Well, I guess since you’re treating, the appetizer is whatever you say it is.”
Eyes soft, Liam nods, capitulating. “Correct.”
Immediately, my stomach plummets. It’s one thing to go wild when I’m paying for it—literally and figuratively, considering the state of my bank account. It’s another thing entirely to go wild when someone else is paying, rich man or not.
My parents, being good middle-class Americans, taught me many lessons growing up, some good, some bad, but one that has always stuck on the good side is that you should never, ever, under any circumstances, order something expensive when someone else is paying. The problem, of course, being that everything here is expensive. The cheapest thing on the menu is a side of fries, and even that is double the price I’d be willing to pay anywhere else.
As everyone thanks Liam and Amber, I skim the menu prices, trying not to panic. An appetizer, I decide, listing them off to Ruby, will have to do for me. I move on to entree options for my bestie and I hope desperately that this isn’t the sort of fancy restaurant to give you itty-bitty portions and pretend that they’re acceptable for sustaining life.
“What are you getting?” Roman, who got shuffled into sitting in the seat directly to my left, asks lowly, eyes roving his own menu as I reach the end of reading Ruby her options. Will takes over, answering her questions about different entrees and appetizers, and I’m forced to acknowledge that Roman has spoken to me.
“Um,” I hedge, glancing at the appetizers again. “The crab cakes.”
He hums, approving. “And?”
I scratch my nose. “Just the crab cakes.”
He does not hum, approving, at that. Slowly, his head turnstoward me, eyes narrow. “Sweet?”
“I’m not that hungry,” I lie, defensive.
His eyes do not unnarrow. “You’re not that hungry?” he asks. “I saw you eat nothing for breakfast, then a crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. And that’s it. Did you, somehow, eat more than that when I wasn’t looking?”
