My heart sinks as I watch Sarina hug her mom with a smile on her face that fades the moment it is not returned.
Where Harper and Chloe are warm and inviting, Sarina’s mother is not.
Even as I extend my hand out to hers introducing myself, she seems disinterested.
There’s no “So good to see you” to her daughter, or “So nice to meet you” to me. It’s quick and emotionless. It appears that Sarina’s mom is more interested in messing with the table setting in the dining room, than talking with either of us.
Sarina mentioned in passing that her mom takes hosting very seriously, and now I can see for myself how true that is.
As beautiful as their home is with every inch decorated to the nines, it doesn’t feel like a home. I’m used to my mom’s place —filled with family pictures spanning over the years, and sentimental trinkets lining the shelves. From what I can see, there’s not even one family photo or memento to be seen. It feels hollow, and almost as cold as Sarina has warned me multiple times how her father is.
Wondering where the man of the hour is, I glance down at my watch. Considering how many times he texted Sarina the past two days reminding her of the time we were expected to arrive, we’ve been here about thirty minutes and he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Is Dad around?” Sarina asks her mom.
She receives a partial response, as her mom busies herself with a centerpiece on the table.
Sarina rolls her eyes, a sentiment both Harper and Chloe share.
“Typical,” Sarina mutters under her breath
A few minutes pass before Sarina’s mom instructs us to find our assigned seat via the table setting cards centered on each plate in the dining room since dinner is about to be served.
My jaw flexes seeing my name typed on the small card. I’m next to Sarina on one side… and her father on the other.
More time passes before we are finally graced with Mr. Tesoro’s presence.
Sarina’s demeanor, as well as her sister’s and her fiancée’s, all shift. Everyone, aside from their mom —who remains poised— does.
The tension in the air is so thick, a knife could cut through it. It’s palpable. Contagious. Still, out of respect, I rise from my chair as he nears it, to introduce myself. He stops, standing directly in front of me, staring at my outstretched hand, though he doesn’t return the gesture. Instead, he offers me a blank stare for a beat, before his gaze scans me with quick, disinterested precision, as if he’s sizing me up. His hand moves forward, but not to shake mine. He merely points at my vacant chair. “You can sit,” he sneers, cold as can be.
Well, this is off to a great start.
Sarina’s mom pops up from her seat, asking what he’d like to drink, and gets up to fix it for him. Awkward silence fills the room despite Harper and Chloe talking amongst themselves.
“It’s nice to see you, Dad.” Sarina breaks the silence, timid as can be. Not sounding like the woman I’ve come to know whatsoever.
Expecting her father to respond, I draw my gaze to him, but he simply ignores her, with all his attention glued to his phone, thumbing away at it as if he didn’t hear her.
Sarina must sense the shift happening in me. Her hand drifts to my thigh, squeezing it as she whispers my name.
It’s no wonder he ignored our meeting months ago. I mean if he can’t even give his own daughter the time of day, how could Iexpect him to extend me or anyone else, the courtesy of a simple hello.
“I don’t think he heard you,” I say to Sarina, loud enough for him to hear.
He grunts, with a smug grin on his face, still not bothering to look up from his phone.
My blood pressure begins to rise.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. A timid warning. “Just forget about it.”
I hear her.
I really do.
But it’s not okay.
Not one fucking bit.
