Look At Me Weird
Fiona
“Why are we even doing this? You hate parties.” Daria signs before picking up her purse and assistive device from the coffee table.
“I don’t hate parties.” Much.
She drops it along with a book into the bag she calls a purse. “Yes, you do. Unless they’re street parties, you avoid them like the plague.”
It’s not that bad. “You hate these things too.”
“All I need is a book. You know that.”
I slide on a pair of ankle boots. “You shouldn’t have to hide in the corner and read at a party.”
“But I want to. And you’re just deflecting because you’re nervous.”
Maybe. The last week has been challenging, to say the least.
“Do you want me to go to therapy with you? I can help the doctor come up with a plan.”
“What?”
“Sometimes I think you think I’m blind. I noticed when you did it again.”
“It wasn’t as bad.” Dash started crying, and I had to leave the shower to take care of him.
“Did you tell your therapist?”
I glance down at my shoes. When Max pulled away from me, my mind went to a dark place.
“Is today going to trigger you? We don’t have to go.”
Maybe. “I can’t hide. It’ll only get worse.”
“You can talk to your therapist.”
Life feels too hard. “It might not be an issue.”
“What does that mean?”
Give her a partial truth. “All of this might have been from stress about today.”
“Why are you worrying about a party?”
Because it’s Max’s family. They’re perfect. I shrug.
“Your therapist is going to have a field day tomorrow.”
Yeah, she is. “Should I bring a few more bottles for Dash?”
“You already have six. How long do you think we’re going to be there?”
An eternity.
***
The Vincentis are a bit less discreet about their security. They want you to know their neighborhood is protected by big men with guns.
But we don’t have to keep our eyes open quite as much walking down the street with the baby in the stroller. I probably should have worn him, but I’m feeling just a little too raw for that.
“You rethinking this choice?” Daria nudges me.
Only a million times. “No.”
“Liar.” She stops. “Did you check the address?”
“Of course I did.” What could she—That’s not a house. That’s a mansion. You know Max is rich, and his father is a Don. Why did you expect anything else?
Because they seem so normal. Maddox is rich, and he doesn’t have a mansion. Ethan has a nice-sized brownstone, according to Maddox.
Why is it even a big deal? Max has a mansion.
He’s a billionaire. He probably has several of them scattered all over the world. “This is the place.”
“It won’t be hard to find a corner to read in.” She isn’t wrong about that.
We carry the stroller up the steps and reach for the doorbell when the door swings open.
“Fiona!” Hope’s smile is big enough to set off alarm bells in my head.
“And you must be Daria. Hi, I’m Hope. Fiona talks about you all the time.
Goodie, you brought Dash.” She reaches into the stroller and takes the baby in her arms. “You can put the stroller in the closet.” She nods towards the one in the corner.
“You won’t need it during dinner. You’re going to have a hard time keeping Dash,” the child has the nerve to say as she perches the baby on her hip.
We put our coats and the stroller in the closet—which is the size of a small room—with half a dozen other strollers and dozens of coats.
Who owns six strollers when they don’t have any children?
Daria has her assistive device clutched in her hand. She’s feeling just as nervous as I am.
“Most people are in the gardens, except some of the moms and nonnas. I know Dad was looking forward to seeing you both. He’s in the library, I think.”
Daria’s head perks up.
Of course, this place has a library. It probably has a ballroom too. Let’s not forget the pool, because everyone has a pool in Urbium.
And now you’re being a snob. So what, they have money and wanted a nice house.
Ten people turn their heads in unison as we step past the living room doorway.
Hope doesn’t stop to introduce us. She just keeps chugging along, past people chatting in the hallway.
We give them a nod and rush to keep up.
How big is this family dinner?
“Here’s Dad.” She stops in front of a literal library. Not the metal shelf kinds you find open for the public. This is all dark wood built-ins with warm lighting and secret nooks.
Daria is going to fall in love and disappear into one of those nooks.
With the stone fireplace and cozy-looking couch in front of it, I might do the same.
Max is in the corner with a glass in his hand and his head leaning back, staring up at the ceiling.
What has him so morose? Was the woman he was worried about actually raped?
I can’t see Max sitting on his hands waiting for her to feel up to dealing with the problem. He seemed ready to go to war.
Hopefully not with the Spawn of War, but they would probably love to help.
“Dad, Fiona’s here.”
He jerks and turns his head towards us as we walk into the library. “Hey. Hope said you were coming. Hi, Daria.”
He remembered her, but not me?
Daria gives him a friendly wave.
“Stay right here. I have some people I want you to meet. I’ll be right back.” Hope dashes off…quite literally, with Dash in her arms.
What do I do now? Max is looking at me weird. He’s probably not interested in talking to me after I gave him all that unwelcome advice and then almost touched him.
My hip starts to burn. If I scratch it, it might start bleeding.
What do I do?