Page 169 of You Said I Was Your Favorite

I think I’m going to need as many allies as I can get, dealing with the Lancasters.

Arch introduces me to all of his relatives, including his little brothers, who are sitting close to their dad and have matching sullen expressions on their faces.

They look like trouble. Arch tells me they’re little heathens and I don’t doubt it.

There are a few cousins here, including a beautiful blonde named Charlotte and her equally beautiful husband, Perry. I stare at them like I can’t help myself, which I sort of can’t because they’re sitting next to each other and across from me. He looks at her with so much love filling his eyes, and they’re constantly touching each other like they can’t help themselves.

It’s sweet.

My gaze slides over to Arch to find he’s already watching me, his lips curved into a closed mouth smile and my skin goes warm.

He looks at me like I matter too. I might watch Perry and Charlotte, wishing I had the same kind of love…

But I already do.

* * *

Once the plates are cleared—Iwas able to eat after all, Edie’s constant chatter putting me at ease—all of the women end up in a sitting room while the men are in the room with the giant big screen TV, watching a football game. I guess even rich guys enjoy football, which is silly of me to think but it makes them seem more human.

Being alone with the women though, is a little intimidating, especially when Edie excuses herself and rushes off to use the bathroom.

“So.” Miriam Lancaster studies me, finally engaging me in conversation. She’s been pleasant, welcoming me to her home when Arch specifically introduced us at the table, but otherwise she hasn’t said a word to me.

Which is fine. I’d rather be ignored—I’m used to it after all—than have her attention on me like it is now.

I shift in the uncomfortable chair I’m sitting in and smile at her, curling my hands in my lap, waiting for her to drop a verbal bomb. Bracing myself.

“Arch has told me about you,” Miriam finally says, her tone even. There’s not much emotion showing on her face either. “Are you still ranked number one in your senior class?”

Does that impress her? I hope so. “I am,” I say with a nod.

“Do you plan on going to college?”

“I do.” Lately though, Arch and I have been talking more about the gap year plan and I want to do it. He does too. Traveling is an education in itself, isn’t it?

That’s what I tell myself.

“Where do you want to go?” She sounds genuinely curious.

I rattle off my usual list, some of them state universities I know I can get into, the rest Ivy League schools that are tougher to get admission. She nods, seeming impressed and when I finally go quiet, she says, “Perhaps you’ll be a good influence on my Arch and convince him to go to college.”

MyArch. She’s possessive of her children, I can tell. It’s the way she looked at them at the table while we were eating, how she engaged in conversation with them. Arch says she’s a pain in the ass who never lets up on him but maybe his mother just wants the best for her children. And who can blame her for that?

“Maybe,” I hedge because I can neither confirm nor deny my influence over his future choices is that strong.

But we’ll see.

“I know you and Edie have become closer. I think that’s wonderful. Edith has never had a lot of friends. Her circle is tight.” Miriam tilts her head, contemplating me. “You don’t come from much, do you?”

No one else is paying attention to our conversation, thank goodness. Everyone is broken off into smaller groups, chatting among themselves, the occasional tinkle of laughter filling the room and right now, I’d give anything to be a part of that conversation. The one where they’re laughing and most likely having a better time than I’m having.

I shift in my chair, my hands twisted together. “My father works at Lancaster Prep.”

“I know. Ralph. The groundskeeper. And your mother…I’m sorry that she’s no longer with us.”

My hand automatically goes to my ear, tracing over the earring Arch gave me. Touching them calms me sometimes, eases my racing heart and nervous stomach. “Thank you. I miss her.”

“I’m sure you do,” she murmurs. She studies me for a moment, her gaze intense. Like she’s trying to make me break.

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