Or at least I think he’d want to push her away. He’s probably reminded that she’s the type of girl a man like him should be with.
“Dani, why haven’t you changed?” Mom says. “I’m sorry, Vivienne, we seem to be running behind.”
“I’m cooking the fish right now! Piper, the potatoes!” Dad rushes out of the kitchen.
“Oh dear. And here I was about to tell you I was going to steal your private chef.” She looks Graham up and down.
“Wait…” Jeremy is very confused. “I thought you were a tech billionaire.”
“She’s just making a joke, sweetie.”
Colette looks annoyed.
Graham washes his hands. He nods in greeting as he dries them on a towel. “Ma’am. Graham Richmond.”
“Oh, I know who you are. You’re the talk of the Upper East Side.” Vivienne smiles at him.
“Why don’t we all go sit down at the table?” Mom shoos us out of the kitchen. “Dani, your clothes.”
“Sorry,” I mouth to Graham as he’s herded to the dining room.
I hear Colette and her mom basically flirting with Graham. You’d think that married and soon-to-be-married women wouldn’t be flirting with someone else’s boyfriend, but you’d be wrong. Sleeping with each other’s husbands is practically a sport among the Upper East Side set.
You’re not actually together,I remind my reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror.So who cares if he wants to flirt with her?
He’s an evil kidnapper, and Colette’s the bride of Frankenstein. They deserve each other.
It still stings, though.
Actually, no—it’s devastating. All the scar tissue I thought I’d developed from the blows to my self-esteem over the years gives way, and all I want to do is beg Graham tolike me, like me.
I’m trying to sponge off the underboob sweat in the bathroom when the door slams open.
“Who raised you?” Gran rails. “You get back out there. That woman’s trying to steal your boyfriend. No, don’t wear a bra with that shirt.”
“I need one.”
“No. Tape them up. High and proud, Dani. High and proud.”
The fish is on the table, and Dad beams when he sees me. “There she is! Dani made the lemon-butter sauce.”
Graham is seated at the head of the table, and I scuttle into the seat next to him.
Mom has put out the nice plates with the blue-and-white Dutch pattern.
“Dani is an excellent cook.”
“It’s because she likes to eat.” Colette smirks.
“Never trust a skinny chef.” Colette’s mom titters.
Graham’s mouth flattens, and I nudge him with my fork. He ignores me.
“I appreciate that she’s able to cook and clean and host. It seems to be a lost art among young women these days.”
“Hear that, Colette?” Jeremy elbows her in between shoveling food in his mouth. “Dani’s cooking for her boyfriend.”
Colette’s eyes flash dark and ugly at my brother, then she quickly turns back to Graham.
