“Where the hell did my sister go?” I say under my breath, looking around.
Her movie’s over. Well, technicallyour moviesince I was there, too, that Halloween. Something I truly wish I could forget. Jesus, leave it to Goldie to be all inspired by art imitating life and make the memory live on in film forever.
I wonder if Stephen King does this shit to his family members? GivesPet Sematarya whole new spin.
Either way, the credits are rolling in the background as everyone stands and talks, but she’s disappeared.
Honestly, it’s probably because she foresaw what was coming my way. My brow lifts as I glance at said issue—my mother with Chase.
For the last ten minutes, I’ve been unsuccessfully attempting to ignore my mother because she’s droning on and on about what a hero Chase istoChase, who’s enjoying the attention like a pig in shit.
Goldie’s going to get it.
The fact that we were sat near him is an act of treason and war alone, so disappearing while I’m forced to listen to this garbage is unforgivable.
I crane my neck, looking over the small crowd for my hateful sister as my mother really lays it on thick.
“Chase, it’s because ofyouthat our babies are safe and sound. Seriously. You’re a real-life Prince Charming for our Evie. We can never thank you enough.”
Somehow I remember that night so differently. Like how I had to help him walk back to the camp because he had a witty-bitty boo-boo.
I roll my eyes. “Oh my god, Mother. Stop inflating his ego. You know the movie is an overly dramatic rendition of what happened. Between everyone, he actually tapped out first. Noah was the hero.”
A deep and offended chuckle rises from beside me.Here we go.
“Uhhh, excuse you, Princess Diaries.”Did he just call me an ugly duckling?“I was stabbed inches away from my femoral artery.” He scoffs twice, then pauses for dramatic effect, his eyes burning a hole into my profile. “And let’s not forget I was also hit by a car—”
He is never going to forget that accident,orlet us either.
“—I’m still answering questions about my failed marriage at my checkups.”
I scoff. “I promise to never pretend to be your wife just to help you again. I’ll only do it if they let me pull the plug.”
“Evie,” my mother huffs laughingly.
But Chase smirks. “This is how you treat your Prince Charming? Last time I checked, all you did was bite an ear to protect us. So ease up, Mike Tyson. Stow your haterade and let mommy love me.”
My head whips to his, our eyes connecting as I pull my fist back like I’m going to punch him before lowering it.
He winks as my mother gasps and hugs her, engulfing her with his size and turning up the boyish charm.
“Protégeme, Camilla.”
He’s such a kiss-ass saying it in Spanish.Disgusting.“Protect me? Really?”
Way to flex that Duolingo era, nerd. It works, though, because she laughs, wrapping her arms around him, and pats his face.
One day, I’m going to punch him directly in the throat. It’ll be glorious.
“I thought you two called a trauma truce?” my mom teases, setting him free again.
He is trauma.
“That was a year and a half ago. It’s expired.” I narrow my eyes at him.
His forehead wrinkles, a wry look on his face. I hate it.
“Was it that long since we enjoyed a truce?” Something about the way he said that makes me narrow them even more. “Hmm ... how long ago was the wedding?”
