“Yeah.Me. My pride. I want him to suffer for the rest of his life.”
“Fair enough. Then there’s your answer. Don’t forgive him. That’ll be the best punishment of all. As long as you’re doing it foryour peace and not his misery.” Momma drank more champagne, ignoring the wine still on the table. “I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be honest.”
“O-okay,” Rebel said nervously.
“Has Diesel done anything inappropriate with you?”
A bunch of things. “No, Momma.”
“Good.” She left it at that. “Now about Kaia.”
“But…what about Diesel? We haven’t finished talking about him.”
“How do you feel about Kaia?”
“I really like him. I care for him so much.”
“Suppose I told you I’m willing to pay for art school for him?”
“That would be great—”
“In London.”
“What?”
“Think about it and then tell me how you feel.”
“Upset. I’ll miss him. But it’s such a good opportunity for him.”
“I told you to think about it.”
Rebel didn’twantto think about how she felt at the prospect of Kaia leaving. A part of it was relief. Maybe Diesel would finally give her some peace and marry Jana without allowing his stupid jealousy to overrule everything. But she didn’t want Kaia to go. He was kind, sweet, and easy to talk to. It didn’t hurt that he was also cute. He was patient with her, willing to wait for what she wasn’t ready to give.
Charles rolled a cart to the table and picked up a plate with a potato shaped like fresh ginger.“This evening’s white truffle is from Alba, received three days ago.”
He began vigorously shaving whatever it was. Definitely not a potato.
Momma breathed in deep. “The aroma is extraordinary.”
If she said so. They smelled like dirt to Rebel. Actual fucking dirt.
“It opens further once the sabayon is poured.”
He picked up a small sauce pan, whisked gently, then drizzled custard over the travesty on her plate.
He waited until Momma tasted it, then walked away.Withoutcooking the fucking pile of little shaved bits on the plate in front of her and with custard over it.
“Do I have to eat this, Momma?” Rebel asked, pointing to what they were passing off as food.
“Not at all. A small taste would be good. You might like it.”
“Fine,” Rebel grumbled.
Nope, she didn’t like it at all. She grabbed the water glass and drank deeply, almost spitting it out at the bitterness.
“Ewww!”
“Don’t.”
