Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Claire!” Elena shouts.
“What? You know it’s true,” Claire huffs, not swayed at the reprimand. “There’s no way you’re actually considering working with these people.”
“I don’t care if you do think it’s true, you don’t say it. Carter and Luna have been nothing but kind, and their relationship is none of your business. Lord knows, I stay out of yours and Mads’s, biting my tongue when you’re mean as a honey badger to that sweet man.” She leans to the right, speaking only to Mads, “No offense. And certainly no judgment from me if you like that.”
For someone who’s promoting keeping their mouth shut, Elena most definitely is not.
Mads shrugs, telling Elena, “None taken. And no, I don’t enjoy it when she goes all bitchy.”
“Madison!” Claire shouts, whirling to scowl at him angrily. “I am not mean to you. Tell her. And don’t you dare call me a bitch!”
For his part, Mads looks at his wife incredulously. “Call. Me. Mads. And do you hear yourself? Yes, you are mean sometimes. And bitchy sometimes. I keep wishing the not-mean times will outweigh the others, but then you go and pull a stunt like this? I just can’t with you, Claire.”
She seems shocked that he dared to speak back to her at all, and I wonder if maybe it’s the first time he’s ever done it.
“I think you owe Luna and Carter an apology,” Elena tells Claire. “Especially Luna.”
Claire’s lips pucker, as if the idea of an apology is a bitter pill to swallow. But in the end, she appeases her aunt. “Sorry.” Quieter, and directed at Mads, she murmurs, “You can’t blame me for assuming the worst, though. I mean, seriously?” Her eyes flick toward Luna and me.
I note that she doesn’t apologize for anything specific, despite there being several things she should be apologizing for. I’m not ready to let this go, feeling like I need to come to Luna’s defense in so many ways. Just because Claire doesn’t see how amazing Luna is doesn’t make her any less so. She’s so much more than a young, stupid girl, and I want everyone to know that.
Because I was one of those people who overlooked her too, but now . . . I see her. I’m about to say something when Luna does.
“Apology accepted,” Luna says, sitting back down at my side.
It’s not enough, not from Claire and not from me, but I can feel the tension in Luna and that takes priority over what some bitch like Claire thinks. If Luna wants to drop this, I will . . . for her.
It feels like we just dodged hundreds of landmines and we haven’t even sat down to dinner yet. I never did eat that sandwich, and Luna’s right, I’m starving after such a big adrenaline dump and having to forcefully bite my tongue.
“I’m so sorry about all this,” Elena adds, though she had nothing to do with it. “Y’all are just cute as peach pie together, so don’t listen to Claire a lick.”
“It’s fine,” I answer. It’s not, not at all. But it’s also not worth blowing up this deal over, especially now that it’s semi-handled and I know that Claire is a snake in the grass, waiting to strike. I’ll be on high alert with her from now on.
Luna makes a humming noise, and I realize she’s clenching and unclenching her hands. “You okay?” I ask, rubbing her back. Her head falls, her eyes locked on her hands, and a bad feeling sweeps through my gut. “Luna?”
She glances up, meeting my eyes. There are tears on the lenses of her glasses and her lip is quivering. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?” I have half a second of not understanding before Luna drops a bomb of her own.
“Carter and I aren’t really married. Well, we are now, but we weren’t. Not before.” She’s rambling, which is the only saving grace I can hope for. Maybe nobody understands what she’s saying?
I grab her knee, squeezing it firmly. “Luna. You don’t have to do this.”
She shakes her head, effectively shaking off my plea to shut the fuck up.
Elena is looking at Luna with almost parental concern. “Are you okay, dear?”
“No, I’m not. Carter wanted . . . it was supposed to be art tutoring. That’s it. And then he proposed. It was a show, all pretend. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I just wanted to help him. And then Thomas’s collection. I couldn’t . . . I wanted to see it. Selfishly needed to. So we came to dinner. I never meant . . . I didn’t want . . . but then it got to . . . here.” She waves her hands around, gesturing to the room at large but really meaning this moment.
Her rambling is rapid-fire and all over the place, but Elena understands. We all understand because she’s leaving no room for doubt now.