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Kayla opens a bottle of red wine with a ‘POP!’ that covers her curse. “Twenty-three?” she repeats. “Do you have like . . . a safe word or something with him for whatever the hell this is?”
I blink, my feet stepping away from Kayla instinctively. “Uhh . . .”
“Of course not,” she sighs, gritting her teeth as she pours wine into glasses. “He’s put you in the middle of some serious shit. If you need an out, meet my eyes and blink twice.” Her warning is delivered with a dramatic demonstration of blinking.
With that, she leaves me alone, turning to hand out glasses of red wine to her family. Her words rattle around in my brain, making me question everything Carter’s told me.
Why am I doing this again?
I should leave, walk right out the door without looking back and go home to Alphena where I belong. There’s a mirror above the bar, and I meet my own eyes in the glass. I look scared, but my makeup is perfect thanks to Samantha’s help. That small detail gives me a tiny boost of strength, and when Carter turns, his eyes find mine instantly in the mirror. That’s another boost.
Picking up the other glasses, I offer them to those not holding one from Kayla’s distribution. It’s not my place, but I need to do something to keep my hands busy and my feet from running for the door. With my breath stuck in my chest, I hold a glass out to Charles as a pseudo olive branch.
“Dad?” I say questioningly, my voice breaking on the single syllable.
My nerves make it sound as though I’m scared of Charles—which I am, but not for the reason Carter made it out to be.
From off to my side, Elena drawls, “If I’s you, I’d take it.”
Unspoken is the threat that she’ll leave if he doesn’t. Charles looks from the glass, to me, to Elena, and then to Carter. Finally—finally!—he takes the glass, purposefully not touching my hand. He doesn’t make a toast or drink the wine, but rather just holds it.
“Good to see you too, Luna.” The words are pulled from Charles’s throat one at a time. Miranda bumps his hip with her own, and he smiles reflexively, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
It’s a signal to everyone that whatever’s going on, we’re all moving forward with it, and small talk starts up again. I take a big breath, forcing a smile to my lips and hoping it looks natural.
We did it!
Carter pats my butt, and I jump, squeaking in surprise. When I look up at him, he winks cockily.
Did he seriously have no doubts? Is he not near DEFCON one right now?
I know I’m full-blown freaking out on the inside, and only my past experience with hiding nervous meltdowns is keeping me vertical.
Thankfully, now that I’ve been accepted, at least momentarily, I don’t have to actually speak. I’m virtually forgotten as Charles holds court, chatting with Elena while Claire looks on like a sourpuss.
“Sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine life without my Miranda.” Charles looks to his wife warmly before returning his gaze to Elena.
Pressing her lips together, Elena nods solemnly. “I miss him every day.”
“Me too,” Claire interjects. “My uncle was a good man. He cared about others.”
Claire cuts her eyes to Elena and resumes her silent grumping. She very clearly is implying that other people don’t care the way Thomas did. I can only guess that she’s talking about Elena, but that doesn’t make sense. Elena seems so sweet and has been nothing but kind.
Charles agrees. “Family is the most important thing we leave behind.”
He glances at Carter, and I wonder if Charles is threatening his son, but Carter doesn’t seem worried in the slightest. Even so, I have an urge to stand in front of Carter protectively, but I can’t do much, whether the battle is verbal or physical. Instead, I slip my hand into Carter’s, signaling that it’s the two of us against Charles, and Carter squeezes my hand warmly. I feel the weight of his gaze and look up at him. His lips lift slightly, and at first, I think he’s amused by my silly attempt at protecting him, but there’s heat in the depths of his blue eyes that has nothing to do with laughing at me and everything to do with . . . us? He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I sink into him.
Does he know that’s my Kryptonite, making me feel like an ooey, gooey s’mores on the inside that someone melted juuust right?
After a bit, we make our way to a formal dining room. Though I wasn’t expected, there’s the exact number of places set at the long table, including fine China plates, silverware, and crystal glasses. Whoever the house staff is, they’re on the ball. Not that I thought the Harringtons would allow for anything other than quick efficiency.
