Chapter 7 #2
The cold dread twisting in the pit of my stomach must’ve shown on my face, because Madelaine waved her fork and shook her head.
“I’m not planning on saying anything,” she said. “It’s good for Mom not to get her way every now and again.”
I snorted. She wasn’t wrong.
“What I don’t understand is why,” Madelaine continued, spearing a green bean with her fork.
They were good. Everything was. One thing I couldn’t fault Theo’s mom for was the meals she provided. Not that she cooked them herself, but credit where credit was due, she handled the menus and she had hired the people who did the actual labor. That wasn’t nothing.
In another life she would have been extremely efficient in upper management. She would also have made her underlings cry on a regular basis.
I shuffled my chair closer to Madelaine’s, not wanting to be overheard. She might not have intended to tell anyone, but she wouldn’t stop interrogating me until she had the answers she wanted.
If she hadn’t become a doctor, she would’ve made a fantastic lawyer.
“Your mom is trying to set Theo up with Audrey,” I said, nodding in Audrey’s direction as subtly as I could, in case Madelaine had no idea who I meant.
Madelaine’s nose wrinkled. “Why?”
I shrugged. “That, I genuinely can’t tell you. Theo thinks Audrey wants his trust fund, but that doesn’t explain what your mother is getting out of it.”
“He finally told you about the trust fund?” Madelaine asked, brows raised.
“He did.”
Madelaine made an interested sound. I took the opportunity to sip my wine—this one was red, to go with the beautifully dry-aged piece of ribeye that was the star of the main course.
The color was still the only thing I could tell about it, but I liked that it gave me something to do with both my hand and my mouth at once.
“He had to, I guess,” I added.
“You’re not upset he didn’t tell you before?”
“No.”
If anything, I was upset he’d told me now. Not upset enough to be mad at him, just… shaken.
It didn’t change anything about how I felt about Theo. What I was afraid of was that, once it matured, it’d change his life so much that I couldn’t be a part of it anymore. Theo had money now, and always had, but not like that.
“Of course not,” Madelaine said, sipping her own wine. “Theo can do no wrong, as far as you’re concerned.”
“Enough people are unfair enough to him. If I’m a little too fair—”
“A little?” Madelaine interrupted, brow raised.
I looked down at my plate, resisting the urge to rub the back of my neck. That was probably a faux pas at the table, and I didn’t want to embarrass Theo.
“I know how you feel about him,” Madelaine continued, leaning toward me with her voice lowered.
That made me look up, eyes wide and pulse racing.
“I—”
Madelaine raised her fork to stop me.
“I’ve known since I first met you,” she said. Past the surge of panic and horror, I could just about tell that her tone was gentle. Sympathetic? “I’m not planning to tell him.”
My heart rate dropped a couple of notches.
“No?” I asked, still light-headed. I hadn’t thought…
Well, it wasn’t necessarily that I thought I hid it all that well. I’d been told otherwise before. By more or less everyone who ever saw me and Theo together
It was that I hadn’t thought Madelaine had paid enough attention to me to notice.
Or Theo, for that matter. She was the okayest of the Hargraves—Theo excluded—but mostly because she wasn’t actively malevolent.
She was neutral and fair, but not necessarily affectionate toward, as far as I could tell, anyone.
Maybe her boyfriend, although I hadn’t seen evidence of that, either.
They seemed more power couple than star-crossed lovers to me.
Madelaine shrugged easily, as though she wasn’t holding the very fragile hinge on which my friendship with Theo balanced in her hand. “It’s not my secret to tell,” she said. “Besides, what good would it do? It’s not as though…”
She gestured around the table with her fork. I would have thought that was unforgivably rude, but if she was doing it, maybe not?
“Not as though…?” I prompted.
“Well, this isn’t your world,” she said. “Obviously.”
My heart turned to lead and sank into my stomach. Madelaine knew that about me, of course, but to say it was obvious…
“What I mean is, you’re not comfortable here. You… it’s so sweet that you tried, but…”
“But?” I asked, heart leaping into my throat this time. Tried meant I’d failed. I was getting something wrong. Wrong enough that Madelaine apparently felt like she had to tell me so.
“You would almost have gotten away with the cheap suit if you weren’t wearing it like it’s your dad’s and you’re at prom,” she said.
I looked down at myself. To me, this wasn’t a cheap suit.
But then to eight zeroes, it would be. Almost anything would be.
“Not that I care. I would have liked you to show up in jeans and an old band t-shirt to really give Mom a weekend to remember,” she added. “I just don’t think I’d be doing you any favors by telling him. You don’t want money like this. You resent it.”
That was true.
I just hadn’t realized Madelaine—or anyone else—could tell from the way I wore a suit.
“I’m not saying this to hurt your feelings,” Madelaine said. “Just—”
She was interrupted by the sound of Corey’s father banging a spoon against his glass. I’d also been under the impression that was rude, but I couldn’t tell if anyone else noticed or cared. Maybe basic table manners were only for people who couldn’t wear suits right.
“Sorry to interrupt, folks…”