Chapter 1 #2
I pointed at her. “You know me.”
Xerses was looking at me over the rim of his glass, the corners of his mouth threatening.
I ignored that too.
“Anyway,” I said, “he spent forty minutes telling me Gotham deserved better infrastructure and asked if I was willing to be emotionally available for a vigilante lifestyle.”
Even Roman laughed at that.
Parvis shook his head slowly like modern dating had personally disappointed him.
Roxanne pressed a hand to her chest. “Kelly joon.”
“It’s okay. I’m resilient. Also there was that Renaissance one.”
Hope made a strangled sound.
“No,” Avril whispered, already laughing.
“Yes.” I was committed now. “Tights. Puffy sleeves. The weird little haircut. He said he was ‘between eras.’ And how he missed the biggest concert of the year because his ex took the friendship bracelets back.”
Xerses finally smiled.
I felt it low in my stomach, annoyingly immediate.
I should have looked away.
Instead I made the mistake of fully meeting his eyes.
Something in his expression shifted. slightly. Enough to make me aware of the line of his throat, the dark fabric stretched over his shoulders, the simple male ease of the way he took up space. My skin went hot.
God. Great. Fantastic.
I looked down at my plate and reached for more rice I did not need.
“Maybe you need to stop meeting men online,” Isabel said.
“Or start meeting them in costume stores,” Charlie added.
“Maybe,” Britney said coolly, “she needs a man who doesn’t treat dating like community theater.”
Michael touched the back of her neck automatically, calming and affectionate and so sickeningly intimate I almost choked on my own bite.
I loved my friends. I did.
But sitting among five women who had all somehow fallen into outrageous romance with ridiculous men was starting to feel like being the only sober person at a champagne fountain.
I smiled anyway.
That was the trick.
Smile. Joke. Keep the edges bright enough no one looked underneath them.
I was tired.
Tired of bad dates. Tired of pretending I found it all hilarious. Tired of being the funny one, the easy one, the one with a story instead of a person. Tired of everyone else somehow being folded into this enormous beautiful life while I kept showing up alone and making a bit out of it.
And the worst part?
I didn’t even know how much of my sadness was about being single and how much of it was about being visible while single.
Like everyone could see the empty chair next to me.
Like they could see all the places I had not been chosen.
I took a sip of tea and reminded myself not to be pathetic in front of the royal family.
“Kelly.”
I looked up.
Xerses.
His voice wasn’t loud. It never needed to be.
“What?” I asked.
“Was there at least one normal date in this parade of horrors?”
I snorted softly. “Maybe one.”
“And?”
“He kept calling himself an empath.”
Charlie groaned. “Oh, no.”
I pressed my hand to my heart. “He said his greatest weakness was loving too deeply.”
Hope pressed both hands over her face. “No.”
“Yes.”
“How long did you last?” Miley asked.
I sucked in my lips and wondered if I should lie but I shrugged and smiled. “Fifteen minutes. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and climbed out a window.”
Charlie slapped the table. “You did not.”
“I did. Ground floor, thankfully.”
Miley looked appalled and impressed simultaneously. “Was he still there when you left?”
“Probably. He was very committed to the energy.”
Miley muttered, “These men should all be in jail.”
“I asked what his job was,” I went on. “He said he was currently energetically in transition.”
Xerses leaned back in his chair, eyes still on mine. “And yet you remain single. Mysterious.”
The table laughed.
I narrowed my eyes. “You seem awfully invested in my romantic failures.”
“Not failures,” he said mildly. “Research.”
“For what?”
His gaze held mine half a second too long.
“Quality control.”
I stared at him. “Quality control for what?”
“For the men wasting your time.”
His eyes sparkled but I knew I meant nothing to him. I shrugged. “You don’t get to audit my love life.”
“I’m not auditing. I’m observing.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Always.”
“Name it.”
“Auditing implies I have authority. Observing implies I’m paying attention.”
My hair on my arms stood up. “Both sound terrible.”
“For you, maybe.”
Britney made a tiny sound beside Michael like she did not approve of this conversation one bit.
Hope looked delighted. Charlie looked ready to sell tickets.
I set down my fork. “That was almost charming. Did someone write it for you?”
“No,” Xerses said. “If someone had, it would have been better.”
“God, you’re smug.”
“You noticed.”
“Everyone noticed. It arrived before you did. It has its own chair.”
His eyebrows arched. “That’s creative.”
“It’s accurate.”
Tension grew inside. He must know I am well aware I’m not his type and hadn’t wanted to flirt or talk but I glanced at him. “You keep using that word.”
“Because you keep deserving it.”
His smile deepened.
That stupid low pull in my body. That warm, heavy awareness that had no business existing in a room full of ghormeh sabzi and family values.
I looked away first.
Coward.
Roxanne was watching us now.
No. Not watching.
Watching.
The way only mothers and serial matchmakers watched.
I wanted a drink strong enough to make me forget my own face.
Dinner kept rolling, conversations spliting and crossing over each other.
Charlie got louder. Hope got pinker from laughing.
Michael and Britney quietly conspired about something involving spreadsheets and twins and maybe the end of civilization.
Avril and Kir had one of those soft, nearly private exchanges that made me want to throw bread at them.
Isabel corrected Roman on something with perfect composure and he looked at her like being corrected was his favorite hobby.
I should have felt happy.
I was happy.
That was the problem. I was happy for them and a little miserable for me.
Roxanne rose at one point to direct dessert traffic like a woman conducting an orchestra. More things appeared. Of course they did. Pistachios and fruit. Something with rosewater that nearly made me moan.
“Kelly, have more,” Maman ordered.
“Maman, I’ve had three.”
“That is not enough. You are too thin.”
“I am not too thin. I am appropriately sized for a woman who runs on caffeine and anxiety.”
“Anxiety is not a food group,” Roxanne said.
“In my life it is.”
“You can.”
“I’m not as brave as your sons.”
“True,” Charlie said. “Our stomach linings were forged here.”
“You were all raised by a Persian mother with access to butter and ambition,” I said. “The rest of us never had a chance.”
Parvis smiled into his tea.
Roxanne pressed another small pastry onto my plate anyway, because no one escaped this house without being overfed.
“Eat, sheereen-am.”
“Yes, Maman,” I said, because resistance was futile.
Across the table, Xerses looked amused again.
“What?” I said.
“You’re very obedient with my mother.”
“I’m very obedient with women who can destroy me socially.”
“Smart.”
“From who?”
He took his time answering, which I hated because he always seemed to know how silence worked on people.
“Everyone.”
And there was the heat again.
I wanted to be irritated.
Unfortunately I was also a woman with functioning eyes.
Roxanne moved around the table, touching shoulders, adjusting plates, checking on everyone like none of this opulence meant anything if the people in it weren’t fed and happy.
She kissed Michael’s cheek. Smoothed Charlie’s hair back.
Told Jeff to stop working with his mind while chewing.
Called Roman joon. Told Kir to eat more.
Pressed another sugar cube on Parvis with the confidence of a woman who had been doing what she wanted for decades.
Then she stopped behind my chair and rested her hand on my shoulder.
I looked up.
Oh, no.
“Kelly joon,” she said, “you must come next weekend too. We’ll all be here. It will be nice.”
“It’s always nice,” I said carefully.
“Yes.” Her fingers squeezed once. “And family should be together as much as possible.”
“I’ll check my schedule,” I said carefully and didn’t correct her that I wasn’t exactly family.
“You have no schedule that matters more than this,” Roxanne said sweetly.
Hope choked on her wine.
“Maman,” Britney warned.
“What? I’m being hospitable.”
“You’re being strategic.”
“In this family, those are the same thing,” Charlie said.
I heard everything in that exchange.
So did Britney, judging by the way she stopped beside Michael.
Hope looked at me over her wine with naked excitement. Miley looked wary. Isabel looked entertained. Charlie looked like he was trying not to laugh already.
Roman lowered his gaze to his glass like a man wise enough not to get involved in whatever his mother was setting up.
Kir watched.
Parvis definitely watched.
And Xerses—
I looked at him because I couldn’t help it.
He was already looking at me.
The ocean waves splashed on the beach right beyond the windows.
Somewhere in the house, glass clinked, footsteps moved, life went on.
But the moment at the table tightened anyway, like the whole room had drawn one slightly deeper breath.
And then Roxanne looked from me to Xerses and back again with the unmistakable expression of a woman who had had an idea.
A terrible, beautiful, life-ruining idea.
I knew look.
Every woman at this table knew that look.
And for some insane reason, so did Xerses, because the smallest flicker of something crossed his face. Not fear. Not even annoyance exactly.
Recognition. Absolutely not.
I picked up my tea glass and took a long swallow I did not need.
Across from me, Xerses’s mouth twitched.
That was so much worse.
Because I had the horrible, electric sense that whatever Roxanne was thinking, whatever scheme was clicking into place behind those beautiful maternal eyes, he could feel it too.
And he didn’t look nearly alarmed enough about it.
He looked interested.
I set my glass down very carefully.
If anyone at this table thought I was about to become the next project in the Norouzi family’s deranged fake-dating success rate, they had another thing coming.
I was not desperate.
I was not available for emotional experimentation.
And I was definitely not about to let myself get tangled up with the one Norouzi brother who looked like sin in a black shirt and had a reputation that made even Britney sharpen her knives.
Roxanne’s hand slid from my shoulder.
“Dessert,” she declared brightly, like she hadn’t just silently detonated something.
Everyone moved again. Conversation resumed. Charlie started talking. Hope laughed. Michael said something dry to Britney. Life at the table carried on.
But I could still feel it.
That awareness, that awful live wire running from one side of the table to the other.
I forced my attention to my plate.
Across from me, Xerses said, very quietly, for me alone, “This should be interesting.”
I looked up so fast I nearly spilled my tea.
“What should be?”
“The weekend.”
“Nothing is happening this weekend.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
He lifted his glass. “Then we agree.”
“We absolutely do not agree.”
Something moved in his face. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
His expression was smooth again. Controlled. Almost bored.
Only his eyes gave him away.
And that was enough.
I started feeling like prey.