So, It’s A Date?
Still shaken up by the news, I sat at the dinner table, picking at my food.
A wave of nausea washed over me and I could barely swallow the bite of bread I’d just taken as I replayed Chantelle’s words in my mind.
My sister and Aaron? The clinking of silverware and the murmurs of conversation around me faded into a distant hum as my mind raced.
Did Mark know? Was she going to tell him?
It seemed like a very important conversation to have, especially before your wedding.
Wow, it all made sense now. All those times she’d tense up whenever someone brought him up… A cold dread settled in my stomach. Did anyone else know? Her best friend, Kimberly, maybe? How could she not have told me?
And yet…I had been keeping secrets too. But not like this.
Not a secret that could shatter my sister’s happiness.
This was different. If the situation were reversed, and I was the one marrying Mark, I would absolutely want to know if my sister had slept with him before we met.
Wouldn’t I? I mean, yeah. Unless there was a reason, a very, very questionable one, why someone would keep it a secret.
“Florence?” A stern voice cut through the air, pulling me back to the present.
“Yes, Father?”
“Pass me the salt, will you?”
“Oh.” I looked at the table, eyes roaming over, trying to locate the shaker, until I finally found it sitting right in front of me. “Here.” I put it next to my dad.
“Thanks,” he said. “By the way,” he added, looking at me, “I heard Mindy was quite pleased about the printer being fixed.”
I smiled. “Well, I didn’t fix it myself, just made sure it got sorted.”
He raised a brow, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Then I should be thanking you for that too. You see, my hands just couldn’t get to it.”
I met his gaze evenly. “Things like that should be taken care of, Dad. Especially if you rely on it daily.” Then, a fleeting thought crossed my mind— was I overstepping?
This wasn’t really my place, was it? I never wanted to be involved in…
all that, yet here I was, taking charge in the office.
“Well,” I quickly muttered, “you know, just to make everyone’s life easier.
Sorry, I probably should have asked you first.”
My father opened his mouth to say something but then he paused, considering his words. “Possibly,” he finally said, a faint smile playing on his lips, “one day you and your sister could take care of it all.”
“Um, let’s not think so far ahead, shall we?” I mumbled, noticing my mother’s unwavering stare. I really was just trying to avoid another scandal.
“Of course,” he mumbled under his breath.
But my mother, already leaning forward, her elbow at the table as she propped her chin against her hand, said, “It’s nice that you, at least, have an open mind about it.” Her words sounded light-hearted but I knew exactly what she was implying.
“Hmm.” I offered her a forced smile. “How is your health, Mother?” I jabbed back, my tone carefully neutral. “I trust you’re feeling much better since…the last time.”
The room went silent for a moment, concerned faces staring at her.
“Yes, yes,” she quickly breathed, reaching for her glass of water. “Much better, thanks,” she added with a small chuckle.
As the conversation flowed, Jo chatted about her choreography classes, the anticipation of her honeymoon with Mark, and their excitement over the cosy new house my parents had bought for them as a wedding gift.
“Fascinating,” I muttered, feigning interest.
“I just can’t wait for everyone to gather at our new place.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” I said, locking eyes with her. “You guys, parents, me…and Aaron.”
“Can’t wait to meet your stepbrother,” Francine mumbled, curling her red lips around the rim of the coupe glass.
Jo’s smile faltered. She exchanged a loaded glance with Kim before offering me a strained, “Yeah! Sounds wonderful.” Well, well, well, just look at that. Kimberly, of all people, might be the one who knew the whole truth.
“What does he do?” Francine threw in a question, then stared at Mark.
“Er,” Mark cleared his throat, “he is a chef.”
“Oof,” I teased, “I love a man who cooks.” My gaze involuntarily fell onto Miles, who slightly raised his brow at me.
“You hear that!” Chantelle muttered at Blake. Shit, Blake. Seriously, how did I get myself tangled in all this?
“Hear what?” Louis asked.
“Yeah?” Miles shifted in his seat, straightening, his eyes never leaving mine. “Hear what?”
My parents, too, paused expectantly, waiting for someone to finally say something.
“Oh! Oh!” Jo instantly beamed, glancing between me and Blake. “They’ve got a date! Isn’t that wonderful?”
My mother, thank God, wasn’t eating anything at this very moment, otherwise I’d definitely be performing the Heimlich manoeuvre right now.
My father froze too, his gaze flickering between me and Miles, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.
God, he must have thought his daughter was…
well, quite liberal with her affections .
And I, feeling my breath catch in my throat, really, really wanted to leave this table, run up to my room, and cry like I was five again.