Page 59 of Worth Every Penny
Mum’s words strangle my insides, crushing my organs. A few seconds of awkward silence pass.
“I would.” Nico’s low drawl is almost sensual.
Fuck me.
He leans back in his chair, wineglass in hand, and takes a sip, cool as anything, like what he just said is no big deal, and the suggestive way he said it hasn’t stunned us all into silence.
Jack’s eyes look like marbles that are about to roll out of his head and Curtis is dabbing his napkin over his forehead.
Mum flaps her hand. “Oh, my—”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Lansen,” Nico continues, cutting across whatever Mum was about to say. “Kate’s an incredible woman. Any man, regardless of his income, would be lucky to have her. If she’s single, then I’m sure it’s because she’s choosing to be. Focusing elsewhere. Like on the Knightsbridge spa project. The dedication she’s shown to Gerard’s final project is inspiring. We should be praising everything she’s doing well, rather than criticizing her because there’s one area of her life that might not look the way you think it should. And on that note, you’re wrong that no one would take her on a date. Like I said, I would.”
Silence blankets the table. Surely they can all hear the racing of my heart? Does Nico really mean any of it, or is he saying it for effect?
The word he used earlier—Hypothetical—booms through my consciousness. Of course, he’s not serious. He doesn’t want to actually date me. He’s saying it to make a point. How could it be anything other than that? But even if it is just to shield me from Mum’s interminable criticism, isn’t that…something?
Mum waves her napkin at Nico. “What a joker you are. You’d get bored with Kate in a flash.” She cackles, then taps her wineglass with her fork. “Now, who’s ready for pudding?”
My chest crumples. I can’t take any more. Not even Nico’s kind words are enough to make up for the way my mother views me. She completely ignored everything Nico said about my dedication to the spa project, instead choosing to stick her claws into the idea that Nico might want me and ripping it apart.
You’d get bored with Kate in a flash.
I push my chair back and stand up. “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh, Kate. Don’t be such a sourpuss. You’re overreacting.” And there it is, each word a piercing pain like I’m being stuck through with needles. “I only say these things so you’ll sort your life out. I’m trying to help. It pains me to see you floundering—”
“I said, I’m not hungry. Eat without me.”
My throat is so swollen I only just manage to get the words out. I stare at the table, not wanting to look up, but Nico’s attention draws mine. He’s tilting his head at me, his brown eyes serious and so full of care that a fresh wave of sadness pulls at my heart.
“Kate,” he whispers.
The compassion in his voice nearly breaks me, but I refuse to cry in front of everyone. I rush into the hall. Footsteps follow behind, and my heart leaps becausemaybeit’s Nico.
Jack is suddenly beside me, leather loafers shifting on the stone floor. “You can’t walk out in the middle of dinner.”
“I just did. I’m not sitting in there with her.”
“Ignore her. She doesn’t do it deliberately. If we went back in there”—he nods back to the dining room—“and asked her what she said to you, she wouldn’t even remember. It means nothing.”
“Exactly.”
Jack blows air out over his bottom lip. “So let it go.”
All of a sudden, my brother ceases to be the comfort he’s always been. There he is, awkwardly trying to get me to do the right thing. To keep the peace. A small voice rises in the back of my mind that maybe he’s right, but the frustration bubbling to the surface wins out. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? You’re the perfect son. She fucking worships you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” We stare at one another for a few seconds, my jaw clamped shut, Jack’s head shaking slowly.
When I turn away, Jack doesn’t follow and I hear his footsteps retreat to the dining room. I head straight for the sanctuary of Dad’s study, but the sight that greets me isn’t as comforting as I’d hoped. A thick layer of dust coats everything: a cruel reminder that he’s gone, and no one cares enough to keep the room clean.
I shut the door and sink onto the small velvet sofa nestled in the bay window, hugging my knees up to my chest, wishing he was still here.
I shouldn’t have come this weekend. I thought I could bear Mum and her comments, but today I wasn’t ready. Maybe it’s because I was out late last night and drank too much. Maybe it’s the draining heat of summer. Maybe it’s the fact that Dad’s memory is being cleared away like old food. Or maybe it’s Nico and the caring way he looked at me, like if my heart broke, his might too.
All I know is that it’s too fucking much.