Mom and I exchange glances. It’s a fight we’ve both heard dozens of times, and we know all the beats by heart. Luckily, before they can get into it, a man taps Jack on the shoulder.
“Jack! Wonderful party,” the guy says, his voice slightly muffled by his giant mustache.
My stepfather immediately puts on his big strong susinessman face, clapping the man on the back heartily.
“Great to see you, Harold,” he says in a booming voice. “And this must be Molly.”
Molly is a skinny woman in her 20s, with long stringy blonde hair. She extends her hand to Jack, but her eyes flash over to Ryan. She looks him up and down shamelessly, even while her arm is linked through Harold’s.
Jack gestures toward us. “This is my wife Emily, my son Ryan, and my stepdaughter, Philippa.”
I cringe at the use of my full name that literallyno one except himever uses.
“Great to meet you all,” Harold says, and apparently it’s my turn to be ogled. My stomach twists as his eyes track up my legs, hips, and breasts.
Barf.
As Jack and Harold start discussing how some banking stock has been performing, Ryan leans over and whispers in my ear.
“See? You don’t even need dating apps, sis. Looks like you found your first date already.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ew.”
“Come on, he’s kind of cute, in a walrus sort of way.”
I shudder. “Ugh, did you see the way he looked at me?”
“You kind of invited it, Pips.”
I glower at him. “Excuse me?”
“That dress is screaming ‘I’m a present, come open me!’” Ryan tugs at the ribbon bow acting as a strap on my left shoulder.
Instinctively, I yank away from him, but Ryan doesn’t let go of my dress. The knot comes loose and the fabric unravels, slipping off my shoulder.
I barely manage to clutch the velvet to my chest before it falls, showing everyone in the party the bra I’mnotwearing.
Whirling on my heel, I rush back to the kitchen, holding the front of my dress tight against my torso as I dart between two men in matching combovers and squeeze around a gaggle of women oohing and aahing over someone’s Valentino purse.
Thank god, nobody’s in the kitchen when I get there. The caterers must be using the staff kitchen in the back of the house for everything tonight.
Using my hazy reflection in the stainless-steel refrigerator door, I carefully retie my shoulder strap. This time, I make a tight knot before I tie it in a bow. I wouldn’t put it past my absolute asshole of a stepbrother to try and humiliate me by untying itagain.
Just as soon as I think of him, Ryan appears in the doorway. He rakes his fingers through his messy hair, looking way too pleased with himself.
“That was so fucking childish! I almost flashed the entire party.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, big deal. So a few people would have seen your bra.”
“I’m not wearing one! I can’t with this dress!”
“Not wearing a bra to the family Christmas party? Wow. That’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done, Pips. What’s next, are you going to star in a porno?”
“Of course. For you, everything has to be about sex. There’s no such thing as appropriate context. You even had to make my dating profile dirty.”
His eyebrows raise. “Wait a second. I get it. You’re pissed off at me because my methodsworked.How many matches did you get?”
I swallow, looking down at my shoes.
