The entire table goes quiet.
“You want to be a curator?” Mary Walker asks.
“Um…” Where did my vocabulary go?
“No, Mom,” Luca says again, proud this time. “Emma wants to be a painter. You should see her work—it’s honestly the best I’ve ever seen.”
I sink into my chair. Like, if the seat could just open up and drop me into hell, that’d be great.
“How… interesting,” Mary says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. No one follows up. No one asks questions.
“Thank you, Mrs. Walker,” I mumble.
“Pass the salad, Mary,” Luca’s grandmother says, and just like that, the conversation shifts to something else.
Luca slides his hand from my shoulder to my thigh and presses a kiss to my hair. “Remember,” he whispers in my ear, “I couldn’t care less what my parents think. And you shouldn’t either.”
I nod, grateful for him, but the heaviness in my chest doesn’t go away.
After that, the Walkers stop smiling at me. They stop saying things like“They don’t make girls like you anymore.”They’re polite, but colder. Distant.
From that moment on, I become the girl they don’t want for their son—and they make sure Ifeelit.
Every. Single. Minute.
The worst is over.
And by that, I mean Christmas at my parents’ house. Thatisthe worst.
At least I’m not the only one who thinks so—my brothers are just as allergic to holiday cheer in the Hamptons, yet somehow, we all keep showing up every damn year.
After spending two full days with my family, I came away with news.
Insights. Epiphanies.
First off—Lauren Green was there. Not justthere,but practically wrapped around my brother on the back deck.
So yeah. It’s only a matter of time before that little secret goes public.
How do I feel about it? A little jealous. But also… a little happy for him. He finally figured out whatever the hell’s been going on between them. And that’s where my epiphany comes in.
If my brother—the same guy who spent years tormenting Lauren Green—can get over himself and go after what he wants… then why the hell can’t I?
Not Lauren.
Emma. Why am I not going afterEmma Greenwith everything I’ve got?
I mean, let’s be real—hating her clearly isn’t working. I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried.
But I can’t do it.
And we both know there’s still something between us. She still looks at me like I’m the beginning and the end of her favorite story. And yeah… she gets jealous when she sees me with someone else.
So…
Why the hell am I not doing something about it?
For someone with my IQ, I can be unbelievably fucking dumb sometimes.
