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“Why don’t we go to the kitchen and eat.” Gabriel’s hand reaches out to take Tennyson’s.
I hesitate, but then follow, only because I need to know more about what’s behind the mask, so I can form a defense and come out unscathed. Wishful thinking, I’m sure. And one more lie to add to my list.
Chapter 12
Gabriel
Maybe I should’ve let Clementine leave. Tennyson’s small hand in mine feels odd. I can feel all of his trust and innocence in his grip.
“Let’s see what we can find you,” I tell him as we enter the massive kitchen bustling with servers.
“I want a hot dog.”
My whole body cringes. “Oh, you won’t find anything like that here.” I spare him the details of how hotdogs are actually made.
Together, we walk hand-in-hand toward the granite island where food pans rest, filled with fancy appetizers waiting to be arranged on silver trays and fed to the sharks in the other room.
Erin takes a seat on a stool and Clementine moves beside her, watching us. I feel like this is a test. I try my best to look for the most kid-friendly item. There aren’t any. I make a mental note to correct that in the future.
“What’s that?” Tennyson points to a chafing dish filled with bite size filet mignon.
“Steak,” I tell him. “Very good steak.”
“I’ll have that,” he says.
“You got it, buddy.” I grab a china plate and pile it high. I have no clue how much a kid is supposed to eat. If Clementine and Erin’s faces are any indication, probably not that much.
“Ketchup?” Tennyson asks.
I glance around and spot an attendant. “Do you have ketchup?” I ask the young lady.
Her eyes widen. “Um, I can find some.”
She rushes off in search of ketchup, and I smile at Clementine with pride. I can handle being a stepfather just fine.
I lead Tennyson over to a table beside the patio doors and sit him down.
The blonde server returns with a ramekin of ketchup in her hand. “Anything else, sir?”
“Maybe a glass of milk for him.”
She nods and disappears again.
Clementine and Erin take a seat at the table. I should go back to the party, but I don’t.
Everyone is here. Everyone. The press. The gossip columnists. The senator even showed up to congratulate me on my pending nuptials. But, it all feels so empty. Maybe it’s the fact I’m not really into the whole charade. All I can think about is my grandfather, and why on earth he’d subject me to this.
“Was the party moved to here?” Ronin calls out from across the room.
He makes his way over to stand beside me, saying his hellos, his eyes lingering on Clementine, and I want to remind him that Clementine is mine. I’ve never in my life felt this protective over anyone before.
I want to mention the kiss. The kiss I witnessed from the backseat of my car as Stefan and I sat by watching. But, I don’t.
Ronin looks over at me. “I was hoping I could ask a favor.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
Clementine and Erin both nod, and Ronin follows me out of the kitchen and to the library next to the living room. I shut the set of double wooden doors and rest my back against them.
