“You have a date?” Rylee asks.
I shrug. “Kind of,” I reply.
“And he was married?” Rylee asks.
Vicky answers with a nod.
“Well, that may not go over well. Let’s not tell our parents,” Rylee says, standing and brushing her hands down the front of her perfectly pressed skirt. I am wearing a dress that I usually wear when I visit them because my usual short clothes with tears and holes in them are not up to their exacting standards.
I love my parents.
I really do.
But sometimes, their expectations are too high, and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t reach them.
Chapter Three
“Oh, gosh, that dress… again? Really, Rhianna?” my mother questions as we walk in.
My sister walks straight past her and sits at the table. The house is already filled with Christmas decorations everywhere, and it honestly looks like Christmas threw up in here.
“You wouldn’t approve of my other clothes, Mother,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
She returns the kiss before she pulls back. “I can always take you shopping,” she says, reaching for a lock of my hair that’s fallen out of my bun and pulling it away from my face.
“I’m fine, Mother, really.”
She shrugs. She means well, I know she does, but with Rylee being the perfect child, her expectations for me always seem so much higher.
“Okay, well, your father is already in the sitting room waiting for you. Anderson and his family were going to join us today, but work called so they will join us on Christmas day.” She smiles as if that information is something I care about.
I can’t stand my sister’s boyfriend.
He’s a pig.
How Rylee kisses an asshole like that is beyond me. He sends shivers over my body every time I see him and not in a good way.
“Cocktails for lunch?” I ask my mother, who ignores me as I walk toward my father. He’s reading some work reports as I make my way into the sitting room. He looks up when I approach and places his paperwork down, followed by pulling his glasses off his nose before he stands and kisses my cheek.
“You need to come around more often, biscuit, we don’t see you enough.” My father has had that nickname for me ever since I was small, and he would come home in the afternoons and catch me stealing all the cookies.
I love cookies.
“I’ll try,” I say. And I might, well, maybe.
It’s hard being the disappointment of the family.
“Rhi-Rhi.” My name is yelled, and I turn, walking into the dining room to see my baby brother already sitting at the table, his mouth full of bread, as I step around to him. His arms wrap around me, and I hold on tight. He is only fifteen, and he’s already taller than me.
“Stop growing,” I say, pulling back to look at him. We all have the same dark hair, but Rylee’s and mine is straight with a small wave, and Beckham’s is tight curls.
“Mum is going to ask you to help out for Christmas, word of warning,” Rylee says, sitting at her spot next to me. Beckham sits across from us, and our parents take the head of the table.
“So, Rhianna, tell us… have you met anyone new?” My mother asks me this every time I visit. I think she’s hoping I marry a wealthy man. One of her choice, of course. The number of times she has tried to arrange something for me, to meet suitable men and so on, well it’s not been easy.
“How’s Anderson?” I ask my sister, changing the subject entirely.
“He’s working,” she says, smiling.
“Yes, he’s a busy man. A good one, too. Are you excited for the upcoming proposal?” my mother, asks lifting her champagne glass to her lips while eyeing Rylee.
I look at Rylee—not once has she mentioned anything to me about a proposal.
Her eyes skim all of us and then something passes over them before she quickly covers it. But I saw it, the pain that was there for a second or two.
“Proposal?” I ask.
She looks at me, and I can see in her eyes that she’s begging me to stop.
“Yes, we’ve spoken with Anderson’s parents, and they are excited about what the future holds for you two. And are eagerly waiting for him to pop the question.” My mother says.
“Mum, I got an A in maths today. Like, holy shit, can you believe it?” Beckham chimes in.
“Watch your language, Beckham,” our mother chides.
But I know exactly what he did. He’s taken the attention off Rylee, who obviously needs it. But why? And why hasn’t she told me anything?
Dinner finishes without any more questions.
Our father tells us about what’s going on at work, and our mother listens attentively as if she understands each word that pours from his lips. She has no idea, like me. Only Rylee understands his ramblings. It’s why she will take over the company, and it’s why Beckham would have lied to grab their attention.
“I love you, thank you. I’ll see you in a few weeks for Christmas lunch?” I ask my mother.
She has a public lunch. Invites all her friends and family members, which is what we do before the actual day. It’s always at the beginning of December.
“Yes, bring a date.” She kisses my cheek and walks off.
My father is next, and before kissing my cheek, he hands me some money.
Beckham stands next to Rylee as we walk out the door, both coming to her car.
“So, we don’t want to marry Anderson?” I ask Rylee, then look to Beckham.
Beckham opens his mouth to say something, but Rylee cuts him off, “No, it’s not what I want. I just don’t know how to tell him yet,” she says.
“He’s an ass,” Beckham relays, and Rylee nudges him with her shoulder.
“Go on, I gotta take Rhi home. I’m sure she has plans later,” she says with a smirk.
“Oh, do you have a date? When can I meet him?” Beckham crosses his arms over his chest. He’s turning into such a big man now.
“I do, and he’s dreamy,” I say, batting my lashes. “But don’t you dare tell Mum. I will kill you,” I say, pointing my finger at him. He chuckles before he gives us a backward wave and walks off to the house.
We both slide into Rylee’s Mercedes, and she takes off.
“You’re hiding something from me,” I say to her. “You don’t hide things from me.” I say this more to myself than to Rylee.
“I need to work this one out on my own. If I tell you, I already know what you’re going to say, so I just need to do it first.”
My phone rings and Noah’s name flashes on the screen. I put it on silent as I turn to face Rylee as she drives.
“You know you’re amazing, right? Any man would be lucky to have you.” She smiles at my words, and I wonder if I look the same when I smile.
“So are you, so stop ignoring that man’s calls and answer him.” She stops at the front of my apartment, and I lean over and hug her.
“I love you, buttercup,” I say, holding her tight.
“I love you, biscuit,” she replies.
Chapter Four
I call him back.