She accepts the deflection with grace. “Secret is in the red chili flakes.”
The conversation shifts to Emily’s construction work, Jared’s adventures with the water taxi, and my gossip about the Wright Pack that doesn’t include Leif. It’s comfortable. Pleasant. But underneath, something is shifting.
As dinner winds down, Emily and Jared clean up together, bumping into each other as they do the dishes. He says something too low for me to catch, and she laughs, the sound warm in a way I haven’t heard since before Leif walked away from them.
I stay in my seat at the table, both a part of this scene and separate from it. They welcome me, include me, value me, but what’s growing between them exists in a realm I can’t access.
“Want to watch a movie?” Jared asks, drying his hands on a dish towel.
“Sure,” I say, because saying no would mean giving up on something precious. “As long as it’s not another one of your sci-fi disasters.”
He grins. “Hey,Space Mutants 3was a masterpiece of modern cinema.”
“It was trash, and you know it,” Emily counters with affection rather than judgment.
We settle on the couch, with Emily in the middle, Jared’s arm draped behind her shoulders.
As the opening credits roll, I tell myself that being here, being welcome, is enough. I’m in their lives even if I’m on the outside of what they’re building together.
Mixie jumps onto my lap, kneading my legs before settling into a purring ball of fur. I stroke her back, grateful for the simple comfort.
Halfway through the movie, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I ignore it until the vibration comes again. When I fish it out of my pocket, my father’s name glows on the screen, along with an alert of three missed calls, two voicemails, and one text message.
Father
We need to discuss the Bennett arrangement. Call tonight.
My stomach contracts, acid climbing my throat.
Emily glances over. “Everything okay?”
“Just family stuff.” I slip the phone back into my pocket, where it sits like a stone. “Nothing urgent.”
She doesn’t push, but her attention lingers before returning to the movie. On her other side, Jared gently strokes her shoulder.
I try to focus on the screen, where someone is explaining a complicated plan involving explosives and mistaken identities, but my father’s message echoes in my head.
The Bennett arrangement. Like it’s a business deal rather than my future.
When my phone buzzes again, I excuse myself and use my cane to leverage myself off the couch. I step into the kitchen, where the light over the stove casts everything in soft amber. My phone buzzes with another text as I pull it from my pocket.
Father
Caroline asked about you again at the foundation dinner. Her father is expecting an answer by the end of the month.
Your mother suggests you fly home next weekend to discuss terms.
Terms. Like I’m negotiating a contract instead of considering spending my life with someone I’ve only met twice. Caroline Bennett is tall, elegant, and, according to my parents, an appropriate match for the son of Richard Finch, Senior Partner at Finch & Wrenford, a private contract and compliance firm. The perfect Beta wife for the perfect Beta son who will take over the family business.
When I set off for university, it was to gain the educational backing the board required, even though I’d grown up working in my father’s office, learning the ropes firsthand.
Then I’d met Chloe, and my life had taken a turn. I never told her about my family connections, wanting her to like me for myself and not for the connections my family could bring. Then, over the years, it started to feel like I could forge my own future.
Diving into the world of publishing contracts and media influence had been allowed by my parents because it was good experience, but they’d always expected me to return to the family fold when it was time.
My protest that I had no interest in taking over the family firm had fallen on deaf ears. I was in my rebellious phase, but I would “do what’s right” when the time came.