“Hey loser,” he greets once his eyes meet mine.
I stride over towards the dining table and sit opposite him. The smell of food instantly attacks my senses. Smells like rosemary and pepper.
“What’s for dinner?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Try that again.”
I plaster my most pleasing smile. “Please, King Adam, what is for dinner?”
He laughs a little under his breath. “Roast chicken.” My taste buds perk up at the thought, but before I can get up, he speaks again. “Have you got your speech ready?” he asks me.
“Yeah,” I say. “You sure you want me to be your best woman?” I was sort of shocked when he asked me a few months ago, I thought he would ask one of his friends. I mean what do I know about being a best woman?
“Obviously,” he says. “You’re my favourite person.”
“That’s just sappy.”
He rolls his eyes. “So, you don’t want to see the invitations then?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“They’re here? Show me!”
He fished into his jacket pocket taking out two black envelopes. I open one of them and the invitation is beautiful to say the least—gold-rimmed, italic inscription. My heart bursts seeing Adam's name paired with Olivia’s.
“Nice, right?”
“Yeah!” I exclaim, unable to hide the smile brightening my features. “Wait, why did you give me two?”
“One for you,” he says and then pushes the second envelope to me, “and one for Juliette.”
“What?” I utter breathlessly and I’m sure the colour has drained from my face at this point.
He shrugs. “Giving you a plus one would make people suspicious and I’m assuming she doesn’t want that.”
“What? I’m her tutor why would I invite her?” I babble like I’m crazed.
“You must think I’m stupid.” He shakes his head, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Adam—”
“Sometimes, I come home early. I don’t want the house to stink so I wait outside and smoke some wee—some stuff.” I quirk my eyebrow, but he keeps going. “I always see the same Maserati leave most nights with a certain blonde. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, Addie.”
I stare at him breathlessly. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“Who would I tell?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Why would you not tell me yourself?”
“Because you hate her,” I defend myself.
“I have better things to do then hate a teenage girl.” He scoffs like I’m being ridiculous. “Clearly, she must be different compared to her mother for you to like her like this.” There’s a distaste in his words, but a sort of understanding too.
“Like what?”
“You’re different lately…you’re lighter. You’re not going a mile a minute that much anymore. Is that her?”
“Yes.”She makes me happy, happier than I ever thought I was capable of.
“Then that’s all that matters,” he says before slapping his knees and standing up. “I made your plate. It’s in the microwave.” He pats my shoulder before he makes a move to walk away.
