Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
She did as I told her, moving like she was trying to delay the hangman’s noose.
Her hair was washed, but not styled, and there wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face when I led her downstairs, but it was better than her not being there at all. When we appeared, Macalister rose from his seat. Was this courtesy, or a power move? Royce stood as well, but his hesitation made it feel like an afterthought.
Her voice was as fragile as she looked. “Mr. Hale.” Her gaze rolled over to his son. “Royce.”
Macalister rounded the end of the table and strode toward her, his hand outstretched for a greeting. Earlier, he’d forgone a handshake when meeting a nobody like me, making it clear how much he preferred my sister.
“It’s nice to see you again, Emily.” There was no warmth in his tone, but I didn’t think he was capable.
She opened her mouth to say something, but words did not come out. Instead, she heaved the contents of her stomach all over his offered hand.
FIVE
MY MOTHER SCREAMED. It was an awful sound, far worse than the groan from Emily as she tried unsuccessfully to cover her mouth and stop the catastrophe. The red dye from the sports drink she’d consumed was a sickly color when it came back up, like fake, garish blood running through her fingers.
The legs of my father’s chair screeched across the hardwood as he leapt to his feet, yanked a cloth napkin off the table, and scurried to help his boss.
Macalister reared back. Red bile dripped from his hand, and he held it far away from his body. If he could have severed it clean off at that moment, he might have. Royce and I stood in stunned silence while everyone else buzzed around in a flurry of activity.
Emily muttered an apology and vanished. My father led his boss away to the nearest bathroom to wash off, while my mother chased down Delphine to clean up the puddle of vomit on the floor.
It left me alone with Royce, staring at each other from across the expansive table my family hardly ever used.
“Hello, Marist. Or is it Medusa now?” His lips held the faintest of smiles. “Did you do what I asked?”
Air halted painfully in my body as everything constricted. I couldn’t believe he had the balls to ask me that after what had just happened, after all this time, and to be so casual about it. Flames bloomed in my chest. “It’s Medusa.”
“Liar.” He smiled so victoriously, I almost didn’t catch the relief he was trying to hide beneath it. His gaze drifted from me to the door our fathers had disappeared through. “Is she pregnant?”
So much had happened in the last few seconds, I couldn’t process. “What?”
He didn’t repeat it, instead he let the question soak in silence.
Emily couldn’t be pregnant. “She’s not even dating anyone.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, that’s not a requirement for getting knocked up.”
I couldn’t manage my emotions. “She’s not.”
As soon as the statement was out, I began to question it. Whatever was going on with this insane wedding proposal, she hadn’t confided any of it in me. My mouth went dry. She hadn’t had anything to drink last night either. One of her friends had ordered celebratory tequila shots, but Emily turned hers down. She’d said she’d gotten sick off of Patron after finals week, and the smell made her nauseated.
Whatever expression I was making must have given away my thoughts because he looked smug.
“Fuck off, Royce,” I snarled. “If she was pregnant, she’d tell me.”
The door to the kitchen swung closed, announcing we were no longer alone. The cold draft of Macalister Hale was back, making the temperature in the room plummet until it was arctic.
“She’s pregnant?” He appeared just as horrified as when my sister had thrown up on him.
“No, she’s not,” I answered quickly.
Royce shoved his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels like he found the whole thing amusing. “Go ask her. One hundred bucks says she is.”
I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of running away, but his father had a way of making his desires known without saying a word. The set of his shoulders and the way he angled them toward me expectantly left me with no choice. I trudged back up the stairs with my hands balled into fists. I wished I could have reveled in the moment when someone threw up on Macalister, and if it had been anyone else not in my family, I would have.
She wasn’t sitting on the bed this time, and I could hear her soft crying coming from the bathroom. She was bent over the sink, splashing water on her heated face. As soon as she saw me over her shoulder in the mirror, she straightened.