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What the fuck? Do they know each other?
I don’t understand.
Evelyne and Adele pull away from the two men.
It doesn’t take me long to realize that Abel arriving almost at the same time as my sister is nothing more than a coincidence. The fact that he and Mark know each other is a completely different story and sends a shudder through my bones.
It can’t fucking be.
Furtively, I look around, checking people’s faces, searching for reactions, afraid that my secret is no longer a secret and my messed up history is no longer buried but broadcasted in the room's hubbub.
Nobody gives a damn, but that doesn’t stop my thoughts from spinning in my head.
I haven’t seen Abel in, um, I don’t know... A year?
My mind turns silent as Evelyne and Adele enter the kitchen.
“Here you are,” Evelyne says.
Surprisingly, she opens her arms to hug me. I look at her suspiciously.
A smile stretches across her lips, prompting me to also fake excitement. I slip into her embrace, her fingers brushing my skin, cold as icicles.
She pulls back a little in a staged move and gives me a thorough once-over. I look at her in silence. She’s either that good of an actress or this is nothing but a setup.
Another grin lights up her face, making her blue eyes pop. Swept back, her platinum blonde hair gives her a demure look.
It takes a few seconds before her expression changes, and a critical gaze falls over me, her eyes glinting with an amused grin.
“You’re never gonna change, Senna,” she says, condescending.
“Nice to see you too. How are you?” I toss at her, the irony lost on her.
She dismisses me with a flick of her hand and smoothly shifts her gaze away, focusing on the hors-d'oeuvre platter on the counter.
“I’m famished,” she chirps preciously. “We spent hours on the tarmac. And I couldn’t eat on the plane anyway.”
She slips a tiny canapé into her mouth and chews delicately.
“How is your business?” she manages to ask between morsels of food.
“It’s okay,” I say without elaborating.
“What about your boyfriend?”
Her side-eyed glance finds me unprepared. I sense my lips quivering and my cheeks burning.
I quickly recollect myself and give her a cold gaze.
“What boyfriend?”
“The man you had with you at Isabel’s party.”
She narrows her eyes, and I expect a wink. It never comes.
“Is he old news already?” she asks maliciously.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
