Like this is normal.
I’m eating pancakes loaded with syrup because food is like an old, smelly stuffed animal a child clings to when upset.Food brings me comfort.Even on the shittiest days, I can find peace in my favorite meals.
A bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream.A plate of loaded nachos with jalapenos.Moussaka from Mykonos.
Today, I go with an old favorite.Mom made me pancakes every morning before school.She’d slather them in butter and syrup, kiss the top of my head, and say, “Eat, my sweet girl.You need brain fuel to take on the day.”
Then she’d hand me a lunchbox that always had a note inside.As a young girl, I cared more about the notes than the food.Each day, she wrote something different.
You are brave.
Strength is beauty.
You are special.
You are loved.
Be bold.
Beauty comes from within.
I miss her so much I have to choke back a sob.Of course, Atlas notices, his head snapping at me with a look of interest.He says nothing, but I know he knows.
He doesn’t know what I’m feeling or thinking.But he knows it hurts.Atlas offers me a tiny smile that doesn’t reach his big, brown eyes, and then his attention returns to his book.He’s been doing that nonstop.I’m dying to know what’s so important he can’t eat without drawing.
“Ophelia,” Athena says in a singsong tone that makes me want to stab her with my fork.“How would you like to accompany me to pick out your bridesmaid dress?”
I want to say that I would rather remove my eyeballs with this fork, clutching it in my fist like a weapon.
“I can’t,” I lie, forcing a smile that hurts my face.“I’m busy until the wedding.Pick a dress for me.I’m sure it will be acceptable.”
“I would rather you try it on,” she insists.“The seamstress needs your exact measurements.”
I hate going dress shopping.They never have myexactsize, and because I’m a little bigger than average, it always costs more.
“We can help you try it on,” Ares whispers in my ear, sliding his hand to my knee.
I push his hand away, hating how my stupid body responds to him.He’s barely touched me, and I have to clench my thighs.“No thanks.Keep your inked hands to yourself.”
“Phe,” Dad says when I don’t answer his new bride.“This is important.Please make time.”
“Honestly, Dad, I would rather get this all over with and return to my normal life.I don’t care what dress I wear.”
“Thisisthe new normal.”He grits his teeth, anger flaring in his dark eyes.“Get on board, or we will have a problem.”
Another threat.
Asshole.
Why is he so pussy-whipped that he will cast his only daughter aside for her?Forthem.He acts as if I should be happy to have a family again.But I want the one I already had, not my mother’s traitorous best friend and her wicked sons.
I hold his gaze and say, “I’m still adjusting to you marrying Mom’s best friend and moving her sons into our house.This is a lot to take in, okay?”I lift the cloth napkin off my lap and chuck it onto the table—because it feels good to fling shit when I’m mad.“Maybe I would get on board if you’d get off my back!”
“Ophelia Cora Drakos,” he says, shaking with anger, his cheeks flushed.“If I have to tell you one more time to behave yourself, you can kiss the clubs goodbye.”
Motherfucker.
“Threatening me won’t help me accept this situation any sooner,Dad.”I rise from the chair, heart pounding in my chest.“You know what?I don’t need you or your money.”I kick my chair backward with my boot.“How about I go down to Kallidromo and see how much the daughter of the great and all-knowing Belen Drakos is worth at auction?I bet your enemies would pay good money to stick it to you.”
