I know rumors fly faster than the speed of light in small towns.
Like thinking this little group outing is afamilybreakfast.
That’s a good way to get gossip kicked up online, and then this trip’s truly fucking blown. Maybe eating out was a mistake.
“We’re not together!” Margot’s syrupy laugh comes out thicker than the sugary slickness of Dan’s pancakes, brushing over my rudeness. The waitress’ face relaxes. “We’re all just—” She hesitates, glancing at me before she says, “Friends. Just friends grabbing a bite.”
“Oh, of course. Didn’t mean to assume anything, hon. You disappeared for a while, so I just assumed you—yeah.” The waitress holds up a finger. “Be right back with that bill for you.”
“I’ve got it,” I say firmly when Margot pulls out her purse.
Her eyes meet mine, all sky blue witchfire, and she slides her card across the table.
“It’s fine, Kane. I don’t mind paying when you’ve helped out so much,” she says firmly.
While it’s instinct to push, to pay for this woman like I always do, even if she’s just a friend, I realize it’s pointless.
A cheap breakfast is nothing for a billionaire heiress.
“Fine. Thanks for the food, Margot. Kids?”
Sophie and Dan eagerly rush their thank-yous as we head outside a minute later.
All the way to the car and then to the hardware store, the waitress’ assumption sticks in my brain like a barb.
Never thought I’d be grabbing a meal with the kids and another woman this soon. Not that it’s like that, fuck no, but still—
I’ve never had to worry about anyone assuming they have a different mother.
Shit.
The thought makes my stomach churn.
Especially because Margot would’ve been like sixteen when they were born. Don’t even ask what that would make me.
Another damnably good reason to keep my distance.
If we stroll around this town too much—just like we’re doing now—the local yokels might spool up some really wild stories.
When we pull up and park in front of the little hardware store, Margot’s face lights up.
“You didn’t forget,” she says happily.
“No. Can’t hurt to pick up a few more tools for the house anyway.” I cut the engine and head inside.
It’s barely the size of a gas station, but it still looks like it has everything we need. Any residual tension from the diner fades.
Margot ties her hair up like she means business, and the kids split up, wandering the aisles.
“Stick together, guys,” I call after them. “Don’t leave the store without me.”
“Dad, we know,” Dan calls back, rushing down an aisle with drills and power tools.
I wander alone down another aisle, only halfway paying attention to what I’m looking for as my mind wanders.
Naturally, it goes back to breakfast.
I’m overreacting.
