Chapter 37
Emily Fontaine
I Wasn’t Supposed To Be At That Table
I’ve loved Zay since we were kids. Back when he was just a quiet boy in the back of our history class with headphones around his neck and a look on his face like the world had already disappointed him.
Most people didn’t understand him.
I did.
He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it meant something. And when he looked at you, really looked at you, you knew he wasn’t lying.
That’s why I stayed.
High school turned into college, college turned into real life, and somehow we never stopped choosing each other. Even when life got messy. Even when my health made things harder than they should’ve been.
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me.
The anxiety. The nights when my body feels heavier than my thoughts, and I start convincing myself that someone like Zay could easily find someone better than me.
But he never gives me a reason to believe that.
Not once.
Zay doesn’t cheat. He doesn’t flirt with women when I’m not looking. I thought that was discipline, especially having a best friend like Ares.
When he says he loves me, he means it.
Men like him don’t usually stay with a woman with a disability.
But Zay always does.
Which is why the tension sitting in my chest tonight didn’t make any sense.
Monaco felt like another planet compared to our life in California. The Delacroix estate looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors. Tall windows. Staff moving quietly through the halls.
Beautiful.
But something about tonight didn’t feel right.
I felt it the moment we stepped into the dining room.
The table looked like something prepared for royalty. Crystal glasses. Polished silverware. Candles flickering softly across the length of the table.
Yuna sat beside Ares, dressed in a Chanel cashmere sweater and leggings, trying to look relaxed even though I could see the tension in her eyes.
Zay sat next to me, quiet like he always did when something serious was coming.
Zay Jr. squirmed happily in my arms, completely unaware of whatever adult drama was about to unfold.
I heard heels clicking on the marble from the foyer.
Mr. and Mrs. Wells walked into the dining room.
I had only seen them a handful of times over the years, but every interaction left the same taste in my mouth.
Unsettled.
Zay and I stood to greet them. Mrs. Wells walked straight toward us as Mr. Wells greeted the men. Mrs. Wells was elegant as always. Her expression was unreadable, though.
Her eyes went immediately to the baby. She didn’t even bother to speak to me.
“Come here, sweetheart.” Her arms reached forward automatically.
My grip tightened around my son before I even thought about it.
Her smile faded slightly as she looked at Zay.
“Zacian, tell her to give me my grandson.”
Zay didn’t hesitate.
“He doesn’t like being held by strangers.”
The word hung in the air.
Mrs. Wells let out a soft laugh. “Strangers?”
Zay didn’t blink. “Yeah.”
“I’m his grandmother, not a stranger.”
“You ain’t seen my lil man since he was born. You gotta earn that,” Zay said sternly, standing in front of us.
Mrs. Wells studied him for a moment, her smile thin.
“Zacian,” she said calmly. “Your tone is becoming very disrespectful.”
“Yeah, if you say so.” Zay sat at the table as if nothing had happened.
Dinner started not long after that.
At first, it felt painfully polite.
Glasses clinked. Silverware touched plates. The staff moved around the table pouring wine and water.
The first course had already been set when we sat down. We were eating European food, shit that looked like it was only there as decoration.
A shallow white bowl with something green and creamy in the middle.
I leaned closer before realizing it was pea soup, but the fancy kind. Smooth and bright green with a swirl of cream and a tiny pile of shaved truffle floating on top. I didn’t have any, but Zay gave our son some, and he loved it.
The second course came out next.
Thin slices of yellowtail, arranged in a circle with olive oil and lemon, tiny pink peppercorns sprinkled over it. Somebody quietly said the word crudo while setting the plate down.
I glanced at Zay.
He turned up his nose and didn’t touch it.
Neither did I.
Ares nudged him, chuckling.
“Where are the hot wings, bro? I’m not eating raw shit,” he told Ares.
Ares chuckled again. “I’ll take y'all somewhere later to get some. But better food is about to come out.”
The main course was where the room started smelling incredible.
Roasted lamb.
Sliced thick and sitting over creamy mashed potatoes with rosemary and garlic. On the side were roasted baby carrots and asparagus, the kind that still snapped when you cut them.
Ares ate like he had done this a thousand times.
Yuna barely touched her plate.
Zay only ate the lamb and gave our son the mashed potatoes and carrots.
I ate bites while trying to pay attention to the conversation.
Because the food was incredible to me.
But the tension at the table made it hard to taste anything.
Then dessert came out.
Chocolate soufflé.
Perfect little towers dusted with powdered sugar, served with vanilla bean ice cream slowly melting down the side.
Nobody at the table seemed interested in it.
Except me. I ate some with Lil Zay.
As the night went on, the conversation didn’t feel normal.
It felt like everyone else knew what was happening except me.
Words kept floating across the table like pieces of a conversation I wasn’t invited into.
Arrangements.
Families.
Marriage.
Mr. Wells was the first to speak directly to Yuna.
“I forgot to tell you that you look healthier, baby girl.”
Yuna nodded quietly. “I am.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying her like she was a project someone else had finished.
“You embarrassed this family for years. I’m glad someone finally decided to correct it.” He looked at Ares.
Across the table, he didn’t move. He just smirked the whole time with a glass of cognac in his hand, as none of the discomfort fazed him.
Mrs. Wells lifted her wine slowly and turned her attention to Zay.
“So,” she said calmly, “the arrangements are moving forward with the merge? Marcel said a bunch of nothing at the meeting today.”
Zay’s voice stayed even. “It’s being handled.”
“And the public proposal?” she asked, now looking at Ares.
Zay answered before Ares could.
“It will happen when it needs to.”
Mrs. Wells smiled slightly, the kind of smile that didn’t feel warm at all.
“Zacian, you’ve become very comfortable speaking like someone who has authority in this family.”
“You need to chill, that’s why. Now ain’t the time. You are here to have dinner with your kids, not talk business.”
She said his name again. I hated the way she said it and the way she looked at him like a piece of meat.
“Zacian.” Her voice stayed smooth.
“If you continue speaking to me with that tone, I will arrange a marriage for you as well. There’s a lot of money missed while you play house.”
My head snapped toward him.
“Arrange a marriage?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Mr. Wells chuckled quietly into his glass.
Mrs. Wells didn’t even look in my direction.
“The boy always liked his women not to be in the know,” Mr. Wells said.
I blinked dramatically. “I’m sitting right here.”
That’s when Mrs. Wells finally looked at me.
Cold.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m aware you are sitting somewhere you don’t belong.”
I looked at Zay.
He didn’t look back at me. He was too busy having a stare-down with Mr. Wells.
“Get your wife,” Zay said through clenched teeth.
“Change the subject, Miss Lady,” Mr. Wells told her.
Across the table, Yuna looked down at her plate like she wished she weren’t there.
Mrs. Wells set her glass down and studied me, then looked at Lil Zay.
“I admire mothers who bring their children everywhere. I’m sure he will have fun here in France.”
Something in my chest twisted.
“It must take great effort traveling with a toddler.”
Her eyes flicked toward my arm brace.
“Considering your condition.”
I felt my blood boil. And all I heard in my mind was, “I’m about to slap this bitch.”
My chair scraped loudly against the floor when I stood up.
“Don’t fucking talk about my condition. You don’t know what I—”
Before I could swing, Zay rushed over with Lil Zay still in his arms and grabbed my wrist.
“Baby, stop.” His voice was low.
He looked at his mother. “You gotta shut the fuck up sometimes. We’re stepping away.”
And before anyone at the table could say another word, he led me out of the dining room.
He guided me toward the door.
No one stopped us.
No one said anything.
The second we got upstairs and the door closed behind us, I lost it.
“What the hell was that?” I snapped.
Zay handed me our son and then rubbed the back of his neck.
“Emily, I’m sorry that happened. I shouldn’t have had you down there.”
“She’s a nasty woman, Zay.”
“I know.”
My chest was rising and falling fast.
“She isn’t even your real fucking mom.”
Zay looked at me like he could see my soul. I knew I was going too far, but Mrs. Wells had me out of body.
“And that bitch should be dead for what she did to you when you were young.”
He frowned immediately. “Don’t bring that up, E.” His voice was low but firm. “I told you I don’t like hearing about my past.”
The anger drained out of me instantly.
I looked down at Zay Jr., who was happily playing with the buttons on my shirt, completely unaware of the tension in the room.
I exhaled slowly.
“She’s a disgusting woman,” I said quietly.
Zay didn’t respond.
“And our son will never be in a room alone with her.”
My voice was calm now.
“Never.”
Zay nodded slowly.
“I know.”
I kissed Zay Jr. on the head and held him closer.
“She doesn’t deserve Yuna,” I said softly. “And she damn sure doesn’t deserve our son.”
From downstairs, we could faintly hear voices continuing the dinner.
Like nothing had happened.
But something about the way Zay stared at the floor told me tonight was far from over. Because when he got quiet, I knew a storm was about to come.