Chapter 11
Eleven
SUMMER
Noah told me that Victoria and Carson are recently engaged, but I’m pretty sure he lied because there’s no way a newly engaged couple could be this miserable together.
Carson is reedy, his receding hairline creating a prominent widow’s peak.
His teeth are small and square, but blindingly white from veneers.
The sleeves of his collared shirt are rolled up just enough to reveal the audacious watch on his wrist. Though his puffed-out chest and ram-rod straight spine convey an attempt at confidence or even intimidation, nothing about Carson is at all threatening.
Victoria, on the other hand, is truly terrifying.
Her long, platinum-blonde hair is tied up in a severe ponytail, blunt bangs nearly covering her brows, nails manicured to perfection, high-collared, skin-tight dress tailored to her exact measurements, and those icy blue eyes?
Vicious. Her features are sharp, severe, and Noah absolutely did not adequately prepare me for what I’d be walking into.
While the rest of his family has been warm and welcoming, in the ten seconds that we’ve been in the same room, Victoria has been cold and scrutinizing.
Her nickname, Vee, is entirely too soft to suit her.
“Summer, this is my sister, Vee, and her fiancé, Carson.” When Noah pulls out my chair, Victoria narrows her eyes at me.
Carson failed to do the same for her, his butt already in the chair across from Noah. His gaze has been glued to his phone since he trailed behind her into the restaurant.
“Victoria,” she corrects, her chair screeching as she yanks it out and snatches up her menu.
“Vee, Carson, this is my girlfriend, Summer.” Noah’s smile in my direction makes my heart soar. The words float off his tongue so easily. Girlfriend. Summer.
For a second, I almost forget this is all fake.
“So nice to meet you both.” I smile, but neither of them looks up to acknowledge me, Victoria’s attention glued to the menu and Carson’s to his phone.
A tense silence falls between us, and even as Noah flashes me a reassuring smile, my stomach sinks. What the hell kind of evening have I agreed to?
Thankfully, Victoria’s ire seems focused on one target tonight. “Don’t spend all night on your phone, Carson. Look at the menu. I want to order as soon as the server arrives.”
Carson heaves a sigh before reluctantly setting his phone on the table, his eyes scanning listlessly over the menu. He’s like a petulant teenager who’s been dragged away from their video games for a family dinner.
Noah makes small talk about the food, the restaurant, his new furry friends, and even stoops to chattering about the weather while Victoria glares at the menu and Carson continually picks up his phone to type furiously every time his screen lights up with a new notification.
“Things pretty crazy at work?” Noah asks him.
A few beats of silence pass while Carson ignores Noah for his phone until his pale brows lift. “Me? Oh, no. This is fantasy baseball.”
I didn’t even know fantasy baseball existed.
Victoria’s jaw ticks. Her gaze leaves the menu in front of her only to shoot daggers at Carson. “I’m pretty sure your fantasy baseball team can wait until after dinner.”
Carson’s mouth sours. “You literally put a dead bird on our table in the middle of dinner last night and left to call your brother. Pretty sure my fantasy baseball team isn’t bothering anybody.”
“Because it wasn’t dead.” Victoria is seething now, and I thank whatever force in the universe is sparing me from her wrath. “It was injured, and I called Noah to come look at it. You were sitting in front of the TV anyway.”
“I wasn’t going to sit at the table with a dying bird.” Carson somehow manages to keep typing on his phone while arguing with his fiancée. “Animals belong outside. Especially dead or dying ones.”
Are Victoria and Carson usually this combative with each other, or did we catch them on a bad night? They must’ve had an argument before arriving. That’s why they’re both being so insufferable.
I catch Noah’s eye, who shrugs and flashes me a thin, apologetic smile.
I hate that these two grown adults can’t put aside their petty grievances for an hour to avoid making us uncomfortable.
Worse, I hate that look on Noah’s face. The tension in his jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line, the way his eyes dart around the restaurant in search of an escape route.
They’re making him miserable, and I won’t stand for it.
“Did you manage to save the bird?” I force a bright smile. My gaze darts between Victoria and Noah, who grimaces.
I’ll salvage this evening, even if it means offering myself up to Victoria on a silver platter. I’m going to be the best girlfriend—fake girlfriend—Noah has ever had, damn it.
“No.” Victoria’s glare makes me want to melt into a puddle. An invisible puddle so she doesn’t stomp on me too. “It died.”
Carson snorts before grumbling, “Guess it shouldn’t have been on the table.”
Victoria looks like she wants to strangle him right in the middle of this restaurant, witnesses be damned. Honestly, I’d let her if I thought it would improve the mood for the rest of our meal.
“I heard you delivered a baby! What was that like?” I sound like a kindergarten teacher, but I don’t care. I have to say something to diffuse the tension or I’ll run screaming out the door and Noah will never speak to me again.
“Loud. Bloody.”
At last, a server arrives with glasses of water and a bread basket, and relief rushes through me.
I’ve never had this much trouble winning over a client’s relatives or friends before.
I reflect their personalities and interests back to them because everyone loves a mirror, but if I did that with Victoria, I’m pretty sure she’d chase me out of the restaurant with her butter knife.
Victoria declares we’re ready to order our entrees as well, and I scramble to choose something.
Salad won’t be substantial enough, but will steak make me seem high-maintenance?
Is Victoria vegan? What if she hates me even more if I order meat?
Why the hell didn’t Noah tell me her dietary preferences?
A heavy palm lands on my knee, and that’s when I realize I’ve been bouncing my leg.
Instantly, every muscle in my body freezes. My brain only able to concentrate on the connection between my bare knee and Noah’s hand. Noah’s massive hand. A hand with hard knuckles and prominent veins.
What the hell is wrong with me? Veins should not be arousing.
He leans close while Carson bemoans that the restaurant doesn’t have his favorite fish, the server lists off every other entree on the menu in an attempt to placate him, and Victoria glares up at the ceiling while—I swear to god—muttering some sort of incantation to curse her fiancé.
Tomorrow, I fully expect him to be transformed into a toad.
“This okay?” Noah murmurs, squeezing my knee just a little.
Enough to make my thighs tremble.
All I manage to squeak out is a barely audible, “Mhmm.”
“You can touch me too.” His hushed voice comes out as almost a growl, and I nearly combust. “If you think it’ll help.”
“Good idea. I’m sure it will.” Maybe it’s unprofessional of me—okay, it definitely is—but I’m going to take full advantage of that offer.
Intertwined hands are always a safe bet.
Grabbing his bicep and admiring the hard muscle there is certainly something a real girlfriend would do.
Even a quick smack on the ass might be expected from a new couple in the honeymoon phase that just can’t keep their hands off each other, and I have been dying to—
“And for you, miss?” The server turns his wary eyes on me, silently pleading that taking my order will be a less painful experience.
“Um.” I stare at the menu, all of the words blurring together with the hot pressure from all eyes on me. Minus Carson’s, of course. Even after tonight’s dinner, I don’t think he’d be able to spot me in a lineup. “I’ll take what she’s having.”
Victoria’s mouth purses, and I can’t quite make out her expression. Something between confusion and amusement. But she schools her features back to cool disinterest as we hand our server the menus and he scurries off, grateful to get the hell away from us.
Without a menu to glare at, Victoria’s gaze travels around the dimly lit, cozy restaurant. Her choice, according to Noah. Carson has already returned his attention to his fantasy baseball.
The palpable tension between them makes me shift in my seat and fiddle with my empty straw wrapper. Now I get why kids of divorced parents draw attention to themselves during another argument. I’m suddenly compelled to burst into song and dance.
But as soon as Victoria turns her attention to me, I instantly realize how wrong I was.
Please go back to verbally eviscerating your fiancé. Please stop staring daggers at me. Please forget I exist.
“So you two met at the clinic?”
I blurt, “We did!” with entirely too much enthusiasm.
“Yep,” Noah jumps in. “Already met her pet hedgehog, so you could say it’s getting pretty serious.”
We both laugh while Carson continues to ignore us and Victoria’s expression doesn’t change.
“It can’t be that serious, can it? You haven’t been dating for long, right?”
“What’s it been, sweets?” Noah asks me. “A month?”
“Yes. Exactly.” I nod like a bobblehead.
Victoria isn’t buying our act anywhere near as easily as the rest of their family. “You met at the clinic, but you didn’t meet Naomi? That’s surprising.”
“She wasn’t there.” Noah squeezes my knee again. He means it to be reassuring, but it’s more arousing than anything.
God, how would I react if his hand slid a little higher? I’d spontaneously combust.