Page 131 of The Best of Us

“Later, I promise,” he mouthed, brows drawing tight as he shoved the phone back in his pocket.

I returned my focus just in time to decline Angela’s attempt to offer me wine. “No, thank you.”

Colin licked his lips at the food on display, staring at the multitude of dishes prepared by their live-in staff. Angela had thoughtfully checked on our food allergies before dinner had been cooked.

“Are you really expecting me to sit here and look but don’t touch?” he asked his grandparents, who both laughed.

“He’s got a point,” Salvatore said while dipping his hand into a basket of freshly baked sourdough. “Here.” He passed it down to Colin.

“So,” Colin began after swiping three pieces of bread from the basket before Angela handed it off to me, “did Dad tell you I plan to enroll at his old high school?”

“He did not,” Angela answered as I handed Constantine the basket, not taking any for myself. I didn’t have the best appetite. “At the start of the next school year? I imagine it’s a little late now since you’re out next month.”

“Actually, I’m suspended.” Colin flicked crumbs onto his lap from the table, and I made a quick note to teach him a few table manners at some point. “So, now’s the perfect time to change.”

“And why are you suspended?” she followed up.

Here we go.

Colin gave a quick recap, and Salvatore shocked me by fist-bumping him. He was downright incorrigible.

“I knew you’d understand.” Colin’s lighthearted expression and smile managed to peel back a few layers of my stress to appreciate the moment. “I also want to go to NYU, which I learned is where Bianca went.”

Angela choked on her wine, and Salvatore reached around and slapped her back as she set down her glass.

“Colin,” I warned, doubtful anyone wanted to talk about something so sad at the dinner table.

“It’s quite all right.” Angela held up one hand, then patted her mouth with a napkin with the other. “Bianca would love that you want to go there. Did you know she was a writer? A brilliant one, at that.”

She shared a few personal stories, and I couldn’t help but reach under the table for Constantine’s hand and squeeze it.

“What about you, Juliette? What do you do for a living?” Angela’s pivot gave me whiplash. “I’m embarrassed I haven’t asked that of you yet.”

“She’s a pediatric nurse,” Colin piped up while drizzling a little olive oil on his bread.

“And he’s good at answering for everyone,” I added with a small smile.

“Hmm. Well, do you plan to continue to work?”

Why was she asking me that? What’d she think I would do, expect to live off their dime?

Ironically, one of my main complaints whenever I’d read a novel featuring an uber wealthy guy and a woman working hard to make ends meet was her insisting she wanted to keep at the daily grind.

Now, there I was a walking hypocrite. Didn’t I tell Constantine just yesterday in his kitchen that I wouldn’t let him take care of me?

Constantine smoothed his thumb on top of my hand beneath the table, reminding me I never answered, and Colin, of all times, had chosen that moment to keep his mouth shut.

“Juliette will more than likely need to stay out of work all week until we handle the, uh, situation,” Constantine offered when it was clear I’d gone into overthinking paralysis mode. “Once it’s safe to return, I’m sure she’ll decide what she wants to do.”

Angela sipped her wine, assessing us from across the table. I wasn’t that shocked when she went straight for the heart and asked, “Does Colin have a stepdad?”

Constantine not-so-subtly cleared his throat, and I tightened my hold of his hand to signal a request to answer for me again. He shook his head no.

“So, that means you two are planning on marrying? It’s, of course, the right thing to do for Colin,si´?” And those OMG questions from her, as Colin would’ve called them, kept on coming.

“Ma,” Constantine said like a reprimand.

“What’d I say?” She eyed her husband, and evenhegave her a disapproving look.

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