Still nothing. My fork clinks against porcelain.
“The turkey’s dry.”
That gets a pause.
“What?” Dad looks up mid-story.
“Nothing.”
Mom turns her attention on me like a searchlight. “Did you offer Talon one of the chef’s pies to take with him, Ashlyn?”
Talon grins with some faraway look.
“Not yet.” My eyebrows raise as I take a sip of wine that Iwasn’t supposed to have.
Her mouth tightens. “Why don’t you two take it to his mother. I think she’d like that.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Donovan,” he says while stuffing another roll into his gaping mouth.
Adalyn waves a fork loaded with salad. “Are you guys going to his place next?”
“No,” I snap.
Mom’s eyes widen, but Talon didn’t even hear. His head is buried in his texts again, thumbs flying over the screen to send.
My oldest sister leans into her husband and mumbles just loud enough: “I don’t know why she insisted on going to that college when he was ready to propose.”
I scowl at her as Talon glances wide-eyed around the table, then to my father.
Dad jumps in like he’s defending me. “He and Ashlyn will seal the deal after school. Ain’t that right, firecracker?”
I shrink in my chair. “Mm.”
Talon reaches for my hand across the table, but I use the opportunity to pour more wine. “Yes, sir. That’s good timing. Maybe even sooner…”
“Ugh,” I mumble to myself.
Careful and prim, Mom interjects. “I think it’s a good thing she’ll have her degree.”
Dad doesn’t take the hint. “Right. But I don’t like her hanging around those pretty boys with the cash they didn’t earn.”
He slaps Talon’s shoulder, and the two yuck up with laughter for some joke that wasn’t funny.
I open my mouth to remind him about the mansion we live in. The casino. The “hard times” he likes to rewrite. But I’m named after his dead sister, so I shut it.
Instead, I load the bullet.
“I heard they’re outlawing abortions on campus,” I lie, loud enough to clear the air like a gunshot.
Forks stop. Eyes snap toward me. Jaws hang open for a beat before the side conversations fracture into whispers, then arguments. I finish my stuffing. Empty my drink. Slyly, I slip from my chair, wander down the hall, pour myself another full glass of wine in the kitchen, and head upstairs.
The noise fades behind me, replaced by the quiet of the landing. I sip, smiling into the rim. The grenade’s gone off. And I didn’t even have to stay for the mess.
Talon races up the steps two at a time and follows me to my room.
When I attempt to shut the door, he slips inside first.
“Not coming to my parents’ this year? What’s that about?” His question is laced with venom. A complete attitude change from the quiet guy downstairs, making friends with Dad.