Maya’s foot grazed mine beneath the table. I tensed, electricity spiking in my blood. An image of her sprawled half naked on her breakfast table flashed through my mind, and I quickly took a gulp of water to hide the heat creeping over my face.
She continued eating without looking at me, but I detected a grin lurking at the corners of her mouth.
That little tease. She was going to pay for that later.
At least she seemed calmer today. She was almost playful. She must’ve come to the same conclusion I had—whatever was going to happen would happen regardless of how we felt about it. We might as well have some fun while we could.
Honestly, we should skip the rest of dinner altogether. I could grab her and kiss her right here, during the main course. How wasthatfor an announcement? Then I could drag her back to my place and—
“Sebastian, dear, can you pass the potatoes?” my mother asked, chasing away what would’ve been a highly inappropriate fantasy for a family-and-friends dinner. She frowned at me. “Are you alright? You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine.” I passed her the bowl of scalloped potatoes. “I was just thinking about dessert. I’d love to eat some strawberries later. Maybe with some chocolate syrup and honey.”
Maya choked on her drink. I tamped down a smirk as she got her coughing under control and glared at me.
Two could play this game.
A line of puzzlement formed between my mother’s brows. “I’ll tell Evita,” she said, naming their live-in chef. “We’ll see what she can do.”
“How are you feeling, by the way?” I asked. “How’s physical therapy?”
I’d been worried she would skip her doctor-mandated PT sessions after her car accident, but she’d been going every week. After months of therapy, her slight limp was gone, though she still complained about a few aches that flared up now and again.
“Fine. Boring.” She made a face. “Next week’s my last session. I need something fun as a reward. Maybe I’ll go with your aunt to Monaco—” She stopped short.
She wasn’t going anywhere with my aunt because my auntwas dead.
I swallowed the sudden bitter taste in my throat. “I can go with you. A weekend trip, like old times.”
“No,t’inquiète.” She covered up her mistake with a stiff smile. “I already have my Switzerland trip with Shilpa coming up. I don’t need to go to Monaco.”
Maya’s mother overheard her name, and they struck up a new conversation about their plans for the trip.
I returned to my meal, but the once-delicious food tasted like soggy paper. My mother hadn’t slipped up like that in months. It wasn’t ahugedeal, but I worried it was a sign she might unravel again. Or… was that me being paranoid and projecting my own neuroses onto her? I had no way of knowing.
“Seb.” Maya’s voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear her. When I looked up, she was watching me, her expression soft with worry.
Are you okay?she mouthed.
I nodded. I’d told her about my mother’s struggles after my aunt’s death, but she didn’t know the full story. It wasn’t mine to tell, and part of me was embarrassed to voice my concerns in case I was reading too much into what was likely a normal grief process.
Dinner continued as usual. Besides Neha’s pointed stares, the atmosphere was light, but my earlier unease lingered.
It wasn’t until dessert rolled around that my intuition proved prescient.
“How was the tennis tournament at Valhalla last week?” Neal asked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. My meetings in Chicago took longer than expected.”
“It was fine. Verver won. You should’ve seen the shock on everyone’s face.” My father laughed.
Neal didn’t join in. “Good to hear. What about afterward? How were your meetings?”
The Valhalla Club’s annual tennis tournament was really anexcuse for members to hobnob and source intel from each other. It was more popular with the older crowd, and the “casual” drinks and dinners that people scheduled after the matches were the real draw.
My father shrugged. “They were fine. Nothing earth-shattering.”
“Really?” Neal leaned back. “So there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
A sharp current rippled through the air, and the hairs on my nape prickled again. Maya set her fork down, her eyes sliding between our fathers with consternation.
