My head snapped toward him.
“Arrange a marriage?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Mr. Wells chuckled quietly into his glass.
Mrs. Wells didn’t even look in my direction.
“The boy always liked his women not to be in the know,” Mr. Wells said.
I blinked dramatically. “I’m sitting right here.”
That’s when Mrs. Wells finally looked at me.
Cold.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m aware you are sitting somewhere you don’t belong.”
I looked at Zay.
He didn’t look back at me. He was too busy having a stare-down with Mr. Wells.
“Get your wife,” Zay said through clenched teeth.
“Change the subject, Miss Lady,” Mr. Wells told her.
Across the table, Yuna looked down at her plate like she wished she weren’t there.
Mrs. Wells set her glass down and studied me, then looked at Lil Zay.
“I admire mothers who bring their children everywhere. I’m sure he will have fun here in France.”
Something in my chest twisted.
“It must take great effort traveling with a toddler.”
Her eyes flicked toward my arm brace.
“Considering your condition.”
I felt my blood boil. And all I heard in my mind was,“I’m about to slap this bitch.”
My chair scraped loudly against the floor when I stood up.
“Don’t fucking talk about my condition. You don’t know what I?—”
Before I could swing, Zay rushed over with Lil Zay still in his arms and grabbed my wrist.
“Baby, stop.” His voice was low.
He looked at his mother. “You gotta shut the fuck up sometimes. We’re stepping away.”
And before anyone at the table could say another word, he led me out of the dining room.
He guided me toward the door.
No one stopped us.
No one said anything.
