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“No, we’re not,” I reply.
My father looks at Felix, but he only raises his hands. “You just asked me if she was seeing anyone.”
Penelope giggles beside me.
“So which is it?” my father asks.
“It’s undefined,” I reply.
“She’s shagging him,” Felix says, folding his arms. “I told her it was a bad idea.”
“Hey!” I lean forward to glare at him. “I don’t remember asking for your permission.”
“Lana, Felix, please, no fighting,” my father asks, and I try to simmer down for him, but it’s so hard when Felix keeps being all up in my business.
“I was just … having a good time with Jason, that’s it,” I mutter under my breath.
He squeezes my leg under the table, making it even more awkward.
“What’s up with you lately?” he whispers into my ear. “You haven’t dropped by my room in weeks.”
“I’ve been busy,” I whisper back.
The chefs enter the room with a ton of plates. “The first course of this evening. Foie gras parfait with port wine reduction and parmesan emulsion.” The chef places the plate down in front of me.
I make a face and look up at my dad, who seems elated by the food, but all I can think of is how many geese suffered for this.
“Our next dish will be wagyu beef strip loin with peppers and an array of steamed vegetables. For your dessert, we have selected the finest soft-baked chocolate, creamy caramel, pretzel Rocher, and local ice cream.”
“Delicious,” my father says.
“Enjoy,” the chefs say, and they all walk away.
My stomach is roaring, but I’m not eating that.
Meanwhile, Jason scoops it up like ice cream, making me want to throw up.
“Aren’t you going to eat, Lana?” my father asks as he takes a bite.
“I’m on a diet,” I reply, picking off a piece of the lettuce beside the foie gras, and I put it in my mouth to pretend I’m enjoying my food. “Saving some space for dessert.”
“A diet? With your figure?” Penelope says, equally unamused by the foie gras, as she pokes at it with her fork.
I throw her a look. “I’m waiting for the main course.”
“You can just say you don’t like liver,” Felix says, stabbing the foie gras like it’s still alive. “I don’t.”
My father sighs as he puts down his fork. “Kids …”
Kids? Really?
“I thought you said you wanted one-on-one time together?”
“That was her idea, not mine,” Felix balks.
“Hey!” I clench my fork tightly. “That’s not fair, and you know it. I didn’t say we needed to have dinner. I just said—”
“You wanted to feel more like a family.” My father interjects.
