Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I have to step aside when I hear footsteps coming my way. Irene doesn’t notice me as she returns to the table, all smiles—the gracious hostess. I really hope nobody but me heard what was going on in there. If only for Dad’s sake. What would everybody think if they knew what his wife was really like?
When Elliana comes out, it’s obvious she’s been crying; her eyes are red, her face damp like she rinsed it. And when she sees me waiting near the door, her face falls, eyes narrowing. “What do you want?” she whispers, folding her arms, ducking her chin.
“Nothing.” I mean, what is there to say? Sorry your mom’s a bitch? Anyway, she does have a point. If Elliana could just loosen up and act like a regular person, she might actually enjoy her life a little.
“Well, go do nothing someplace else,” she mutters. “I’m going home.”
“So early? We haven’t had dessert yet.”
“Oh, no,” she whispers, rolling her eyes. “How could I possibly miss dessert?”
When her chin trembles, it’s obvious she’s still hurting. Who wouldn’t? “You need a ride?” It seems like the right thing to do.
I should know better by now. “What, and take you away from your new girlfriend? I wouldn’t dream of it.” She rolls her eyes and scoffs before walking away, her hips swinging with every quick step she takes. I wish I didn’t want to stare. I really do.
Fuck it. She wants to act that way when all I’m trying to do is be nice for once? Let her. It’s not my fault she can’t fit in anywhere she goes. Jocelyn’s wide smile greets me when I return to my seat, and I know I should try hard to match her energy.
But my heart’s not in it. Not even close. She’s gorgeous, she’s got a killer body, but she does nothing for me. She’s not a challenge. She’s not even that interesting.
And if anything, the fact that Dad keeps looking our way wearing an approving smile makes her that much more unappealing. Since when do I do anything just because Dad wants me to? He should know better by now.
“You know, I think my stepsister is feeling kind of sick tonight. I should go home and check on her,” I tell Jocelyn once people start saying their goodbyes after the dessert and coffee are gone. “It’s a big day tomorrow. I think my dad would appreciate it if I kept an eye on her.”
Instead of looking disappointed, she looks kind of pissed. “Well, aren’t you the kind stepbrother?” she asks with a snort. “Here I was, thinking you wanted to have fun tonight. Thanks for the mixed signals.”
I could continue with my excuse, remind her it’s not my fault, but what’s the use? It’s all completely insincere, anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I reply, since I figure she’ll probably be at the wedding with her dad.
“Don’t expect a hello,” she mutters before standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder. So much for that. No big loss.
Everybody’s too busy air-kissing and joking about the big day tomorrow to notice me slipping out. Did she make it home all right? Is she upset? How can she not be? How can Irene be so cruel? Not that I would put much past her—it’s not like my opinion of her has fallen too far, since I didn’t have a high opinion of her in the first place.
But still. She’s a mother. Can’t she at least pretend to like her own daughter? The question bounces around in my head throughout the drive home, leaving me feeling unsettled and unsure of myself by the time I roll up the driveway. I’m the only one who gets to torment Elliana, dammit.
She’s exactly where I knew she would be. There’s a light burning in her room when I reach the upstairs hallway. I listen for a little while, but don’t hear anything coming from inside before I try the doorknob. No big surprise, she has made a habit of locking it lately. “It’s me,” I call out, knocking on the door. “I just wanted to check on you.”
“What, are you already finished with your girl? Or is she in your room, waiting?” Fuck, she is bitter. Her voice is thick with emotion—she’s probably been crying all alone.
“No, because I decided to come home and check on you,” I snap. “Now open the door, because I’m tired of talking to it.”
“Why should I?” Her voice gets a little louder, telling me she’s coming my way. “What, you just can’t resist the opportunity to make me feel like shit? Can I get one fucking night?”
Damn. When she decides to find her voice, she doesn’t stop using it. “Maybe I wanted to see if you were all right. Is that unbelievable?”
She barks out a laugh before opening the door, dressed in the same sort of tank top and shorts she wore the night of the party. “Are you honestly asking me that question? Because yeah, it’s plenty unbelievable. And I’ve already been through more than enough tonight, thank you very much.”