“Are you gay?” I see that he briefly glances at me and I spot the hint of a smirk.
“I ask because I was reading that sometimes an alter can have different sexual orientations.” I shift my body to look at him waiting for a response. “You are aren’t you?!” I say excitedly when he doesn’t respond. It would certainly make things easier.
“If I were you I wouldn’t be so excited because that would make things a whole world more complicated for you,” he answers smugly, and my triumphant smile immediately falls. Shit, I didn’t think of that.
“Don’t panic. I’m not gay.”
I let out a quiet sigh of relief and hope that he doesn’t notice. I also pull up the low-cut top on my dress a bit more.
“You look beautiful… by the way,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Thank you.” A few minutes pass, and I feel nervous, jittery, and completely vulnerable, as if I’m a child sitting at the adult table.
“By the way, they know that we’re joining them. I remember what a surprise it was the last time you were my companion of the night. As long as you promise to keep those passionate outbursts in check tonight, we should be ok.” He counters, and I realize he’s referring to the time I slapped Helen. I hate that he knows so much.
“No promises.” We pull up in front of the restaurant, behind cars as grand as the one we’re in. He gets out of the car, and I’m surprised when he opens the door for me and stretches out his hand. I look at him suspiciously.
“I know that you aren’t used to being around a gentleman, but this is the part where you take my arm.” I scowl at him but grip his hand tightly and get out of the car. He takes my arm and in the same second tosses the keys to the valet person.
“Just so you know both Cal and Chris are gentleman in their own ways,” I tell him tightly as we reach the door to the restaurant, which he makes sure to open for me. The hostess, a beautiful girl who can’t be more than twenty, smiles brightly up at him. Regardless of who he thinks himself to be, he’s still irritatingly handsome, and I must admit that there is something charming about Collin. He tells her our name, and she tells us to follow her upstairs to the center of the restaurant. Near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake is our table, and there awaits Dexter and Helen. My stomach drops at the sight of them. Dexter stands as we approach, and Helen looks over at us with a cautious smile. I can’t even manage to muster a fake one.
“Lauren, Collin.” Hearing Dexter say his name makes my jaw tighten. “You look beautiful,” he adds attempting to kiss my cheek. A kiss I avoid quickly.
“She’s not in the greatest mood,” Collin answers for me with that smug grin of his. Helen stands and allows Collin to kiss her on the cheek and glances at me quickly, as if she’s expecting me to pounce. It’s taking everything in me not to, but I take a deep breath and try to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe just maybe they didn’t know about Collin, maybe he just called them up and introduced himself today. Collin pulls my chair out before sitting down himself.
“We’ve taken the liberty of ordering wine already,” Dexter tells us. I quickly grab the bottle and pour. I turn to Collin.
“So do you drink?” I ask snidely. I’m angry, angrier than I was earlier, angry that I have to sit here with these people who are looking at me as if I’m a case study. Hell, I am a walking and breathing one. How many men does it take to break Lauren Scott?
“Not excessively,” he replies evenly. I roll my eyes at that comment before taking a sip that turns into a large gulp and then the entire glass.
“Well, I plan on drinking enough for both of us,” I answer after I finish. He only chuckles shortly. I turn my attention to Helen and Dexter.
“So, you’re all familiar with each other it seems. When did this happen?” I ask sarcastically. Helen clears her throat.
“Collin and I met some time ago,” she says steadily.
“Of course you did!” I laugh angrily.
“I can understand you being upset,” Helen says having the audacity to sound empathetic.
“Upset,” I cackle. “Oh, why would I be upset? It’s not as if you all haven’t lied and kept secrets about my husband since I’ve met you. Why would this be any different?”
Before they can respond, a waiter has arrived. He reads off the specials, and what he suggests. Helen and Dexter order something that sounds exotic, expensive, and something I wouldn’t eat in a million years. Collin orders lobster, which is not surprising. I tell the waiter I won’t be dining tonight, even though I’m hungry. I refuse to eat with my enemies.
“She’ll have the filet mignon medium well with sautéed spinach and the twice baked potato,” Collin tells the waiter.
It’s exactly what I would have ordered if I were going to actually order. I should find it endearing, but instead, I’m annoyed by it. It’s just another reminder of how much these people know about me and how little I know about them. I listen to them make small polite talk, and it turns my stomach. I’m on my third glass of wine when Collin leans down near my ear; I hate my heart for speeding up.
“I think you should slow down a bit sweetheart.”
I turn to him with a sweet smile. “I’m not your sweetheart,” I say acidly. He takes in a sharp breath. For the first time this evening, he seems affected, and I smile to myself in satisfaction. For a while, I thought he was unrattable? Is unrattable a word? I giggle to myself.
“Collin, how about we go to the bar for a quick drink,” Dexter suggests, and Collin looks a bit relieved. The tension at the table was unbearable before my second glass and is only a tad less now that I’m on my third glass.
“I’d be happy to join you.” Collin stands adjusting his suit jacket. I roll my eyes. However I’m surprised when he leans down and his cheek touches mine. I scold myself for thinking how good he smells.
“Don’t sit here stewing and getting drunk. If you want answers, ask the questions. These passive-aggressive tantrums you throw are never effective,” he whispers to me.
My mouth falls open but before I can respond, he’s gone from the table. I narrow my eyes on him and Dexter as they leave. If I could, I’d burn a hole in his jacket because he doesn’t look back at me once.
“Would it be presumptuous of me to ask how you’re doing?” I look over at Helen forgetting that she was here for a moment. My first thought is to grab my glass and pour another glass of wine and ignore her, but Collin’s words echo in my head.
He’s right, I hate to admit it but he is, so instead, I grab the glass I haven’t touched all night and take a sip of water and look at Helen. She’s perfectly made up tonight, beautiful and sophisticated with the right hint of empathy and concern matching her perfectly manicured hands and upswept hair. At first look, she’s just a beautiful kept woman, but I’ve learned Helen is so much more than that. Cal was always right about her. It makes sense that she’s a doctor. She’s obviously a master manipulator, deceptively agenda-less, but I’m learning all the Crestfields have an agenda. Hell Scotts, Crestfields, and I’ve married into both.
“I know that I haven’t been forthcoming with you.”