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Did I just fuck up? And if so, how badly?
“So… What are you going to ask Colter?”
I turn my head, but Lorenzo isn’t looking at me. He’s concentrating on the last few inches of the loaf he has, and when those are sliced, he sets down the knife and leans against the island, his eyebrow raising as he meets my eyes.
“That’s personal,” I finally manage.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But I’m a vessel for advice if you want it… I’m also very good at keeping secrets.”
I can’t bring myself to say anything, so I simply stare at him. I try to put on a ‘fuck off’ face, but it’s a pathetic one at the least. He knows I’m scared. The others might not be picking up my vibe, but I have no doubt he is.
“Abi…”
“What do you want from me?” I ask, proud of the force behind my words. “I’m not going to say anything about you or your family, so you don’t need to threaten me or Colter. I love him. I would never do anything to endanger him or his family.” My voice wobbles on my last two sentences, and I swallow as Lorenzo takes a deep breath and leans in close to me.
He knows.
He fucking knows.
The words blare in my head with fog-horn-like intensity, and the seconds that tick by each drag like their very own life sentences.
Beads of sweat form on my forehead, and my heart beats wildly.
He knows.
He stares at me a few more seconds, looks over his shoulder at the three still cackling on the other side of the kitchen, then turns back to me and sighs.
“This is difficult for me, but… I’m sorry. Clearly, I misjudged you and your situation.”
What?
“If there’s any way for us to put the other evening behind us, I’d like to do whatever it takes. It’s been quite some time since Colter has been in our lives, and I’d like for him to remain here… for my mother’s sake.”
The voice in my head starts screaming that this is a trick. He wants my guard down, he wants me to slip up.
He fucking knows.
Lorenzo’s hand reaches out to me, and I just stare at it.
“Family truce?”
My eyes lift to his face, and although he looks sincere, I don’t trust him. And I never will.
I force myself to put my sweaty hand in his and shake. “Truce.”
“Fantastic.” He smiles and pulls his hand away. He pulls another butter knife from a drawer and begins helping me with the bread. Like there’s no longer anything between us. Like he isn’t a threat to my existence.
“Now, let’s enjoy the evening.”
