Six. Not three.
I pull out my phone to re-read my mother’s text. She explicitly told me Ezra wasn’t invited and Dad was busy. Suddenly, those texts seem ambiguous as fuck.
“Ezra’s not coming, is he?” I ask uneasily.
“Of course, silly,” Mom says, glancing up to smile at me. “He’ll be downstairs in a minute. Hayley, darling, do you prefer red or white?”
My stomach drops.
I get that my brother needed a place to recover after I put him in the hospital, but why the fuck would he come back here? That’s like choosing to shack up in a pit of vipers.
Haven squeezes my hand harder.
“It’s Haven,” she says again. “And red is fine.”
Mom disappears into the adjacent kitchen, humming under her breath.
“We should go.” Haven’s voice is low, urgent. She pulls out her phone. “I’m getting an Uber.”
I wrap my hand around her fingers, stopping her. “No.”
“No?” She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Maybe I have.
“I can’t leave, Heavenly,” I murmur, my eyes drifting to the six place settings. “She needs to know about us.”
“She doesn’t even know who I am,” she hisses. “She keeps calling me Hayley.”
“I know, and that’s…” I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “That’s fucking weird. But I need to do this.”
Haven’s expression softens, but the worry doesn’t leave her eyes. “You sure? I’ve got a really bad feeling about this…”
“Should have stayed back at the Airbnb.” I have to force the words past clenched teeth. “It’s gonna be a fucking shitshow today, but I’m tired of always running at the first sign of trouble.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she steps closer, rising on her toes to press a kiss to my jaw.
“Okay,” she murmurs. “We’ll stay a little longer. But if stuff gets murder-y…”
“Then we’ll get the fuck out of here. I promise.”
My smile is strained, but it’s there. Haven smiles back and gives me another peck on the lips before following me into the kitchen.
Mom is standing by the waterfall granite island, two glasses of red wine in her hands, both filled nearly to the brim.
“Here we are!” She presses a glass into Haven’s hand, then keeps the other for herself. When she sees my raised eyebrow, she titters and waves toward the fridge hidden behind cabinetry that matches the rest of the cupboards. “I don’t know what you want to drink! Go grab something from the fridge. You know Richie has a hundred different beers in there.”
She blows out a breath, shooting Haven a look like she can’t believe her own son expects her to wait on him.
Thereshe is.
Took a while, but the monster under all the plastic surgery and overpriced cosmetics finally reared its hideous head.
But when I look at Haven, she’s smirking like she agrees with my mom.
“Men,” Haven says, shaking her head with mock exasperation.
Mom giggles—actually fucking giggles—and clinks her glass against Haven’s. “You get it. Come, let’s dish up while Kai figures out how to open the refrigerator.”
