I walk out without another word, but when I enter the dining room, all of my sisters are already assembled. I place the salad bowl down and sit opposite Lola.
“We’re here for the fireworks,” she stage-whispers at me. “This is the best fuck up you’ve made in ages.” I scowl at her as my mother comes in.
After the dishes are set down and everyone helps themselves to a plate, it takes my mother thirteen seconds to bring it up again.
“You will go on another date with Sarah to make up for this disaster, Gray,” she says, stabbing at her plate as my sisters all eat in silence around us. “I can’t believe you didn’t have the common decency to check on the poor woman. You left her at the restaurant!”
“You did what?” Lola asks, sounding scandalized, her spoon halfway to her mouth. I glare at her as she hides a triumphant smile. My fucking traitor of a sister knows full well what happened with Sarah, because I called her the next day to tell her about it, and she found the whole thing hilarious.
I hold back the urge to kick her underneath the table.
“He walked out on her, in the middle of their date,” my mother continues. “All because that nightmare of a woman turned up and started ranting and raving like a lunatic.”
“Jax is not a nightmare,” I snap. The words are caustic, reverberating around the table like a cannon shot.
My mother looks up at me, her eyes wide with shock. “What did you just say to me?” she whispers.
“Don’t talk about her that way. I’m a grown man, mother, I don’t need you to set me up on dates with the daughters of your friends anymore. If I ever find someone I want to be with it will bemychoice. No one else’s.”
My mother scoffs. “As long as it isn’t that awful?—”
“It’ll be whoIdecide.” I really need to lower my voice, but I can’t. “I can date whoever I want, and I will. Stop trying to control my life. You don’t have a say in whether or not I see Jax, so stop acting like you do. She matters to me, and that’s all that counts.”
It feels as if every one of my sisters is holding their breath. Lola is staring at me, all traces of a smile gone from her face.Her fork is suspended, gravy dripping onto her plate as Carrie, Maddy, and Erica all stare at my mother.
I see the tears forming in her eyes, but they're crocodile tears. This is a tactic of hers. If she doesn’t get her way, she starts to cry to make sure everyone has to back down. I glare at her, feeling empowered for the first time in my life. Jax taught me that. My mother has far too much sway over my decisions, and I won’t be led by her any longer.
I fight the urge to apologize as she rises, throws down her napkin, and storms from the room. There is the thudding of footsteps up the stairs and the crash of a door closing, and then everyone breathes out.
“Fuck, well done, Gray,” Carrie says, and I glance over at her.
“I shouldn’t have said that. You’re all gonna have to deal with the fallout.”
“Ha! I don’t care. I’ll be living off the shock on her face for weeks,” Carrie murmurs.
“Did you really abandon someone at a restaurant?” Erica asks, frowning at me. “Because that’s not okay.”
“I know, but if I tell you she was the most self-centered woman on earth, does that change things?”
Erica looks back at her plate. “I mean, not really. There are better ways to break up with a person, Gray.”
“We weren’t breaking up...” I sigh, shrugging a shoulder. “You’re right. It was a cowardly thing to do, but she pissed me off within thirty seconds of meeting her.”
“Did Jax really show up and make a scene?” Carrie asks, sounding delighted.
“Uh, yeah. She even threw wine at me for good measure.”
They all burst out laughing at that, except Erica, who looks even more disapproving, and I catch Carrie's eye as Lola raises a glass to Jax. My little sister is watching me with a strange look on her face, and I’m not sure how to interpret it.
Once dinner is cleared away and everyone is silently moving around the kitchen, making sure it’s spotless for when my mother eventually gets over her tantrum and emerges from her room, I head into the sunroom.
It was my father’s favorite room in the house, and it’s still beautiful, filled with plants on every surface and old wicker furniture that would have been replaced years ago, if not for its nostalgia.
Carrie is curled up on one corner of the couch reading, and I’m relieved when the others all gravitate to the main living space, and we have a moment alone as I lower down beside her.
“How have things been?” I ask.
“Torture,” she mutters. “But I finally heard from Annabelle.”
