I hate him right now. I hate that he has the self-control to get us out of the room, because I can damn well feel how turned on he is.
“Dinner better be really fucking good,” I say.
Chris drives us to the restaurant in his truck. We haven’t said it out loud, but it’s pretty obvious that we’ve agreed not to go out of our way to let on that our only real plans for the rest of the week are to have sex with each other.
The restaurant is modern and dimly lit with blue starburst lights. Sabin, Estelle, and Eric are seated at a large semicircle booth, and Sabin flies out of his seat when he sees me.
“Lady Blythe McGuire!” He rushes over to me and lifts me into the air in a hug. “I missed the hell out of you. What are you doing here?” He sets me down and holds me by the shoulders. “Wait. Is everything all right? You okay?”
“I’m fine. I just came back early and ran into Chris. Apparently the Shepherds and I have excellent taste in hotels.”
He hugs me again. “C’mon. I’ll buy you a drink.”
He scoots me into the booth first so that I’m next to Eric, who hugs me, and Estelle on his other side air-kisses me. I love that we are in this fancy restaurant and Sabin has on his cowboy hat. Chris sits next to his sister and takes a sip from her water glass. Everyone is tan and radiant looking, and I am blissfully happy because I am back where I belong.
“Our girl has returned early,” Sabin announces, “so now we have someone we are not related to who we can play with! Chris has been sick of us since New Year’s Eve, but I know you can counteract how boring we are. Right, Chris? Blythe is a lot more entertaining than us.”
I have to bite my cheek so that I don’t burst out laughing. I can’t even look at Chris.
“None of you are in the least bit boring,” I say. “You guys must have had an amazing trip. So tell me all the details! How was Hawaii?”
“Full of spectacular hard-bodied men,” Estelle says dreamily. She is, as usual, in full makeup and beautifully dressed in a taupe sweater that looks like cashmere.
Eric rolls his eyes. “That’s true. There were alsootherincredible views, though.”
I listen to them gush about the plush condo Chris rented for them, the impeccable beaches, the day hikes they took, and Chris and Sabin’s disastrous attempts to learn to surf.
“It’s true,” Chris says. “We sucked. I don’t think either of us stayed up on the board for more than two seconds.”
“It was still fun, though, right, Chris?” I love how Sabin looks at his brother. I think back to the fight on Thanksgiving night and how that could have ripped a family apart, or at the very least caused serious tears, but the adoration in Sabin’s eyes is unmistakable. He clearly looks up to Chris in so many ways, and I wish that James had a fraction of those same feelings for me. One day, one day. Maybe.
“Hey, we went back and surfed again the next day, didn’t we?” Chris gets a spark in his eyes. “You know, Blythe, there are really so many things that I want to do again…” He sighs dramatically, and I resist kicking him under the table. Then he raises his glass to Sabin’s and nods in Eric’s direction. “And I’d like to give you two credit for your waterskiing success.”
Eric sighs. “Man, I could do that every day. Blythe, you would love it. Have you ever tried?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I’ve done a little sailing, but that’s it. Oh, and I can row a rowboat like nobody’s business.”
“Very impressive,” Estelle says, smiling. “I could sit in a rowboat and bark orders while a half-naked Hawaiian boy rows us to a deserted beach.”
“That’s enough out of you, young lady!” Sabin jokes. “My sister is not to be thinking anything indecent about boys. Not until you’re forty, Estelle.”
“Fine, fine. Blythe, have you enjoyed any new and exciting physical activities we should know about since we last saw you?”
I’m never going to make it through this dinner.
“Yes, tell us.” Chris jumps in. “Any new hobbies you’ve added to your repertoire?”
I clear my throat. “I think that I’ve got all I can handle as it is.”
“Yeah, so how’s the running going?” Eric asks.
He and I talk together for a bit, and he tries to entice me to enter one of the spring races in Madison. “You could totally do it! A 5K? 10K?”
“A 10K!” I nearly shriek. “I can’t do that, Eric.”
“We’ll see,” he says.
Dinner is nonstop conversation and delicious food. I eat ceviche out of a martini glass and devour my scallop entree, which comes with so many components I can hardly identify what I’m eating. But everything is outstanding. Eric feeds me a forkful of his polenta with basil and cream, and I can’t help groaning over how good it is. I also can’t help noticing with satisfaction that Chris shifts in his seat when I do so.
