Page 17 of Unhinged Love

“Why don’t you think about that while you’re alone here in your room?” He pushes his way past me, but not before hip-checking my dresser hard enough to make everything on top of it either fall over or roll off onto the floor—including the one and only memento I have from my grandma, who was always more of a mother to me than Mom ever was. Her beautiful porcelain music box tumbles to the floor and smashes against the wood, destroying what’s left of my heart all at once. Tears fill my eyes before I can help it as I stare down in disbelief at the pretty, painted porcelain now in tiny pieces.

“Whoops.” That’s all Carter says before striding from the room, snorting softly on his way across the hall while I curse the day Mom met Paul.

Forget that. I curse the day I was born.

SEVEN

Carter

“Isn’t this nice?”I swear, Dad is trying like hell to crack his teeth, and he’ll succeed if he doesn’t stop smiling so hard. “I could get used to this.”

An early dinner at a fast casual Mexican restaurant? Yes, we have definitely hit the peak of excitement around here. It takes a lot not to laugh in his face.

Really, the only thing keeping me from doing that is reminding myself he’s going away for the weekend after we get home, and I would rather not have anything getting in the way of that. I’m not trying to spread the word that the party is canceled or anything. There’s no way we’d be able to get the word out to everyone. Not the way Tiana talks. Half the world probably knows by now.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Like Irene gives a shit. She’s ready to settle in on a beach somewhere—she’s even wearing a bikini under her sundress. The thin straps are visible every time she moves. “And if anything, it makes me look better. It’s already hard enough for people to believe I gave birth to one baby. Ifthey see me with two kids, they’ll be even more surprised I was able to keep my body in shape.”

She’s had a little too much wine, already pregaming for her trip. For once, I have to adopt Elliana’s method of staring at my plate like it’s the most fascinating thing ever. It’s either that or burst out laughing, something I doubt Dad will appreciate.Hold it together. They’ll be gone soon.

Staring at my plate has other benefits. For starters, not having to see the look Dad gives Irene when he lets out a little growl of approval. Jesus, save me from this. Let somebody drive through the front window or something.

There’s a second or two where I almost wish I could stand Elliana, practically wedged in the corner of the booth. This is one of those moments where we could have looked at each other and rolled our eyes, but instead, I would rather use the spoon on the table to scoop out my eyeballs. That’s pretty much how I feel about her right now. Not that she’s done anything to change my opinion.

After clearing his throat, Dad manages to pry his attention off his wife. “So, do you have any plans this weekend?”

The idea of Elliana having plans comes closer than ever to making me laugh. “Not really,” I tell him, while until a few minutes ago I was making a list in my head of what everybody’s supposed to bring. “I’m going to lie low.”

“Really?” My wicked stepsister opens her mouth for the first time since before we arrived at the restaurant. “I thought I heard people talking about something big going on this weekend.”

Fucking bitch. She chooses now to find her voice and fuck with me? She’s got an actual, honest-to-God death wish. That’s the only explanation. Otherwise, why would she go out of her way to get under my skin?

“Nothing that has anything to do with me.” It takes everything I have to be casual as I reach for a tortilla chip andscoop guacamole out of the bowl in the center of the table. “I don’t know who you were talking to.”

“I would be happy to know my Elli was talking to anyone.” Irene’s brittle smile seems to make her daughter shrink inside yet another heinous sweater. This one is striped—maroon, gold, eggplant. Ugly, in other words. Everyone in this restaurant is dressed in polo shirts, T-shirts, skirts, light dresses. When is she going to get a clue?

“Your mom did tell me you were out with a couple of girls from school yesterday. It’s so good to know you’re making friends.” Dad is really laying it on thick today, probably in a great mood because he has a weekend of fun ahead of him. Fun with his gold-digging bimbo wife whose brand-new Dior sunglasses sit perched on top of her freshly bleached hair. I had the misfortune of overhearing her talking about her plans for the morning before leaving for school today. Mani-pedi, bleach, a blowout, and waxing. I really did not need to know about the waxing part.

The less I know about this entire charade, the better.

Is she going to do it? Is she going to make the fatal mistake of telling them about the party? She should know better by now. I warned her.

But when I remember the wounded puppy noise she made yesterday when I broke that box on her dresser—the only remotely pretty thing in her entire room—I can’t help thinking she’s capable of anything. Whatever it takes to get back at me.

She wouldn’t go this far. Would she? I hate not knowing. It’s not like I was enjoying this meal before now, but even the chicken quesadilla that tasted so good a minute ago is bland and dry. I have to force myself to keep chewing it.

“I could go for another margarita.” Irene winks at Dad suggestively before raising her empty glass to catch a server’s attention. “As far as I’m concerned, I am on vacation.”

A vacation from what? It’s not like she fucking works unless planning a wedding intended to drain a hard-working man of his money could be considered work. The most cooking she does is to take something from the freezer and put it in the oven, and we still have the housekeeper who comes in a few times a week. She does literally nothing but lie out by the pool and bully her daughter. Oh, and make me hate her. But that’s not something she really has to try at.

“Take it easy, honey.” Dad’s laughter is full of indulgence. “Have too much to drink now, and you’ll be asleep before we cross the town limits.”

While the two of them have their little conversation, I look over at Elliana, trying to gauge what’s on her mind. She can try to get back at me all she wants, but not now. Not like this. There is too much riding on it, including my reputation around school and the absolute ass beating Dad would generously provide. He has never found out about one of my parties. How do I know? The man can’t act to save his life. No way he could pretend to be clueless. Even if he could, he couldn’t keep it up for long without laying down the law. That’s how he’s wired.

I look his way in time to see him nod in greeting toward somebody a few tables away. Everybody knows him. People respect him. Something tells me stories about drunken sex taking place all over his house and in his pool might tarnish his reputation a little. At least, that’s what he would worry about. How is he supposed to tell other people how to live their lives if he can’t keep things like that from happening in his home?

He’s already pissed off at me over everything else lately.

Don’t do it. If you want to live, don’t do it.She thinks she has it bad now? Up to this point, I haven’t openly encouraged the treatment she’s getting at school, but that could change. All she has to do is push me far enough.

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