Page 70 of Wicked Brutal

“Deal.”

Across the table, Victor laughs. “You negotiate with him?”

“Constantly,” I say.

“She’s bad at it,” Tobias announces.

I look at him. “You just agreed to eat twice as many green beans as you wanted.”

His mouth opens. Closes. Then he looks down at his plate like the beans personally betrayed him. Mom hides a smile behind her water glass.

Dad doesn’t. “Tobias, eat your dinner.”

“I am.”

“Then stop playing with it.”

His shoulders sink. I bump my knee against his beneath the table, and when he glances at me, I steal one of his green beans and chew it while he watches, his eyes going wide. Now he has one left. Problem solved.

Victor watches the whole thing. “You’re good with him.” He takes a drink of wine, unhurried, his eyes still on me. “You’ll make a good mother.”

My fork stops. Just for a second. Someday would have been better. Someday would have at least put some distance between me and the thing he’s imagining. Instead, he says it like another fact about me he’s already decided.

Across the table, I’m carrying Ryan Harrington’s baby. The secret is so enormous that sometimes I don’t understand how everyone else can’t see it. I can. Every time I look in the mirror. Every time my stomach rolls. Every time my breasts ache. Every time Ryan puts his hand over my stomach when we’re alone like he still can’t quite believe there’s something we made underneath it.

“Maybe,” I say.

Victor smiles. “Oh, I think definitely.”

My stomach turns, and I reach for my water.

Dad cuts into his steak. “Let her finish high school first.”

“Of course,” Victor says, laughing.

Mom’s knife scrapes against her plate, sharp enough that I look at her. So does Dad. She immediately sets it down. “Sorry.”

Her face is pale. Dad frowns. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She picks her knife back up. Her hand is steady now.

Victor looks at me again, turning his wine glass slowly by the stem. “I suppose I should ask if you even want children.”

“I like children.”

“That’s good.”

“I said I like them. I didn’t say I’m starting a daycare.”

Tobias snorts. Dad gives me a look, and I lower my eyes to my plate, but Victor only smiles. “I like that you have a sense of humor.” How fucking generous of him. “It’ll serve you well.”

“For what?”

“Marriage.”

My skin crawls. He says it so easily. Like there’s no question. No choice. No possibility that I might wake up tomorrow and decide I’d rather launch myself into the Atlantic than become Mrs. Victor Tremblay.

Dad takes a drink. “Alison has always had a smart mouth.”