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Eric pulls out a chair for me two down from the head of the table, where I’m assuming his mother will sit, then takes the seat directly next to it, to the left of me. Thank God for that at least. My nerves are back in full force now, and having Eric in between us makes me feel a little bit better.
He rests his arm on the back of my chair and his fingers start twirling a strand of my hair, which I had curled into gentle waves and left to hang down around my shoulders.
“Melinda is amazing,” I tell him as he leans closer to me and nuzzles his face into the side of my neck.
“She is. But you’re amazing-er.”
I laugh softly and let out a little sigh when he kisses the side of my neck.
“That’s not even a word,” I mutter, my eyes fluttering closed when he gently bites down on my neck.
“Christ, I just want to strip you out of this dress and fuck you senseless,” he whispers, kissing his way up to right under my ear.
Good God, this man is amazing. With just a touch of his lips and a few words, my nerves slip away, replaced by desire. Probably not the best thing to be feeling when I’m getting ready to meet his mother, but it’s better than feeling like I want to throw up.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”
Eric pulls his head away from my neck with a sigh and I open my eyes, a loud gasp flying out of my mouth when I see a familiar face standing behind the chair at the head of the table, looking between Eric and I with a pinched expression.
Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone right now?!
“It’s nice to see you too, Mother. This is my girlfriend, Ariel.”
I don’t get the same warm and fuzzy feeling when he calls me his girlfriend that I did a few minutes ago with Melinda. Right now, in the pit of my stomach is a huge flaming ball of dread, eating away at my insides.
“Ariel, this is my mother. Ursula Sailor.”
I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I should have known the other shoe is always hanging there, waiting to drop. And of course it isn’t a dainty, pretty, glittery shoe. It’s a fucking combat boot, getting ready to kick me right in the gut.
Chapter 24: Fuck You, Combat Boot
This is just a dream. Any minute now I’m going to wake up covered in sweat and panting, and I’m going to laugh because it was all just a horrible, horrible dream.
I pinch my thigh under the table, and when I don’t immediately find myself under the covers in the bed on my boat, I start wondering if maybe I died at some point in the last fifteen minutes and this is hell. Maybe I tripped walking up the steps, cracked my head on the stairs, and bled out before anyone could save me. Maybe the chandelier in the foyer had a loose screw and it came crashing down on top of me, crushing my skull. Or maybe Ursula shoved a knife into my back when she walked into the dining room and saw her son canoodling me with at her table.
That would actually be more believable than anything else since right now, since I feel like she fucking stabbed me in the back as I sit here listening to her talk to him about what’s going on with Sailor Yachting, acting like she’s never met me before. Acting like she didn’t look down her nose at me the two times I’ve interacted with her. Pretending like she didn’t just walk onto my fucking boat yesterday and ruin everything Cindy, Belle, and I have worked so hard for without a care in the world. Pretending like she didn’t know exactly who I was, even though I’m living on her son’s goddamn boat. And she broke my ceramic bust of Eric. I figured it was an accident when it happened, but there is no fucking way anything about that was accidental.
Eric’s hand is still draped over the back of my chair and he’s still twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers as he talks business with Ursula. He’s turned away from me and has no idea how much I’m freaking the fuck out right now. No idea how much I want to shove this chair back from the table, stand up and point at her and scream, “AH-HAH! YOU CONNIVING BITCH!”
Ursula glances over at me every once in a while as they chat, and she looks like the cat that ate the fucking canary, so smug and full of herself. I don’t know what the hell her agenda is. Why didn’t she tell Eric we’ve met before when he introduced us? And for that matter, why didn’t I? I can easily blame it on shock, but what’s her excuse? All that bullshit on the phone with him yesterday about how she was excited to meet me—what the hell was that even about?
