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As much as he loved looking like the picture-perfect boyfriend in front of my parents, Alessandro ignored me the moment we were in public. I don’t know how he explained away the fact that he was driving me. Maybe by saying they were trying to quiet the rumors around the engagement, I don’t know.
That’s why I don’t really know anyone around the table except for my sister.
“It’s funny you think I care,” I reply, my tone curt.
He can fuck off with his accusations.
I didn’t break Less’s heart. I just did my best to save mine.
SEVENTEEN
Ivy
Basil looks like he has more to say, but thankfully, Less is already back, two dark green bottles in one hand, and half a dozen glasses on a platter in the other.
I don’t think I’ve ever had cause to be thankful for his appearance.
“Alessandro Valmont, waiter,” my sister quips, breaking the silence with a chuckle. “I can see it.”
“I’d get the best tips,” he boasts, depositing the platter on the table before opening the first bottle.
I stand. “I’m getting tired. Where can I crash?”
Less cocks an eyebrow. “It’s pretty early.”
“Yeah, well, long day.” And I don’t really feel like hanging out with anyone here except Bella. I don’t add that part out loud, but it’s in the subtext.
“Stay for a drink. We’re toasting to you not turning into an icicle.”
I’m done being polite. “No, thank you.”
I likely look like a huge bitch to everyone here, but I don’t give a single fuck.
“Ivy,” Bella says softly, “We didn’t eat much today—you must be starving.”
Shit.
I wasn’t a second ago, but as soon as she mentions it, my neglected stomach rumbles.
Most of the food in the house had to be cooked, so we only had cereal for breakfast, and the same for lunch. It’s been about six hours since, and I really could eat.
I don’t want to admit it now, though.
Less hands the bottle to Caden, who picks up where he left off without a protest. “I’ll take you up to your room. Dinner’s in an hour. If you’d mentioned you were hungry, we would have brought it forward, but as you’re so tired, it’s perfect. You can nap.”
I blink several times. He…can’t mean that, can he? Nothing is that easy with him.
“Do I have to carry you?” A grin pulls at the corners of his mouth.
I leap up to my feet. “Err, no. Thank you. Yeah, I’d love a nap before dinner.”
A moment of peace before dealing with all of this sounds like heaven.
Even as I say it, I’m fairly certain I won’t get it. Not if he’s bringing me to my room. He won’t leave me in there alone.
Which is fine. I’d rather get it over with. And I’d take Less over his stupid friends who thinkIhurt him.
I can’t recall anything making me as angry as Basil’s insinuation. Not even Less himself, which is saying a lot. I spent enough time in therapy to realize why. Iwishit were true. I wish I’d wounded Less. If only he cared about me, my life would have been very different. But he doesn’t. He’s just great at pretending otherwise in front of people—even his friends, apparently, though I can’t fathom why he’d bother. It probably just amuses him.
