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“You didn’t need to go to all this trouble for me,” I said.
“We didn’t,” Traes said, amused.
“This is regular dinner here?” I said.
Traes smiled as he opened his newspaper and the servants brought the silver trays around and placed them in front of us.
It was nice for a one of a kind event, I thought. It seemed a bit much if it was for dinner every single day. Would breakfast be the same? Surely you would get sick of the pomp each and every meal.
One thing was for sure: it beat eating Asshole’s leftovers off a dirty plate. I should quit complaining and just enjoy myself.
We ate our meals and talked amiably about our days. Cleb spoke enthusiastically about how we went outside and learned about bugs and flowers and bees and insects.
Traes smiled but was distracted with reading his newspaper. Did he even notice the passionate gleam in Cleb’s eye when he spoke on the topic of nature? I certainly did. I’d make sure to get him outside and exploring as much as I could in future.
Finally, we came to a lull in the conversation and I looked meaningfully at Cleb, who suddenly turned shy. I glanced in his uncle’s direction with my eyes. Ask him about tomorrow, I was saying.
Cleb peered back at me nervously.
I nodded. You can do this.
“Uncle?” he said.
“Mm?” Traes said, turning a page of his newspaper.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
The asshole was still reading his newspaper. Why didn’t he put it down and pay attention to Cleb? I glowered with anger and Cleb hadn’t even asked his question yet.
“Me and Bianca—”
“Bianca and I,” Traes corrected.
Cleb looked over at me. He really didn’t want to ask this.
“Bianca and I… were thinking about doing something tomorrow,” he said. “And we were wondering if maybe you’d like to come with us.”
“I can’t tomorrow,” Traes said without looking up. “I’ve got important meetings. Maybe some other time.”
Cleb’s face fell. He knew what his uncle was going to say, and still, he asked, allowing himself to hope he might be wrong.
No. I had been the one to make him think he might be wrong, that his uncle would say yes.
I was furious with him.
Cleb sat there, staring at his plate for the rest of the meal. It was too much for me to bear. My anger throbbed stronger with each second that passed.
“Have you finished dinner?” I said to Cleb.
Cleb nodded.
Traes glanced at his plate.
“You haven’t finished your vegetables,” he said.
“He’s finished,” I said.
