Page 54 of Lovely Deceit

That’s why worrying about Eden feels so wrong. I’m not used to it. It’s like putting on a shirt that’s two sizes too small. Uncomfortable. Unforgiving. It doesn’t fit.

“The sad part is how much you’ve been lying to yourself lately,” Alaric says, unprompted.

I glare up at him from my bowl of cereal. His gaze is fixed on me, his brows pulled together like he’s some sort of psychologist. I’m about to tell him to get fucked when the floor creaks again.

Alaric turns, and we watch as Oliver helps Eden down from the last step. He’s so careful with her. Hovering. But I see the way she looks up at him with a smile, and it guts me.

The doorbell rings, and he grins. “There it is.” He tries to help her to the kitchen island, but she shoos him away. My back is ramrod straight, attempting to decipher the scene.

Eden hops up onto the stool as Oliver greets whoever is at the door. Their conversation is short, and when he shuts the door again, I smell what’s going on before I even see what’s in his hands.

Oliver holds three cake-pan-sized tin containers in his hand. He sets them down in front of Eden, and her eyes widen. She pushes her blonde hair off her shoulders as she starts revealing the contents. Eggs, omelets, sausage, bacon, toast, and pastries. It looks like someone bought out a local diner.

My mouth starts watering, and I nudge the cereal away. However, when Oliver comes back, he only has two plates. Steam wafts into the air as they start filling them. “Mind if I have some?” Alaric asks.

“Go ahead,” Eden says. “Oliver doesn’t know when enough is enough.” She rolls her eyes playfully, and my whole body reacts.

I’m…settled. The whole feeling wafting over me makes me feel unsettled, though. It reminds me of better times, living at home with my parents. I was so young, but I can still remember it so clearly.

Eden laughs when a sausage gets away from Oliver, and he has to capture it before it rolls onto the floor. He makes a joke, and then Alaric is there, helping himself to the meal that I so desperately want. But I just stand there, unable to speak.

My first reaction is to get angry. Always. When the emotion creeps up, my hand turns into a fist on the table. Eden notices before I can smooth it out again, but it’s no use. I’m caught. “Problem?” she asks, sneering at me.

“None,” I tell her, matching her energy.

They begin to eat, and I’m transfixed. My mouth waters. I turn to get a plate because fuck it, it’s not as if there isn’t enough food. When I turn back around with it, Eden asks, “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing some food.”

I attempt to grab the serving spoon, but she pulls it out of my reach. “What do you say?”

“What do you mean what do I fucking say?”

She smirks. “Ask. This isn’t your food.”

“This is my hall, everything in here is mine.”

She shakes her head. “Get rid of the fucking attitude, Jarvis. No one wants to hear it anymore. If you want some, just ask.”

I press my lips together, a growl working its way up my throat. She knows how to get to me, and I fucking hate it. “How about I just take the spoon away from you?”

“You can try,” Oliver and Alaric say at the same time.

I back up, switching gazes between all three of them. I’m being ganged up on now. Over breakfast food. I shake my head, laughing. “You guys are pathetic.”

“Who’s the pathetic one?” Eden asks. “You won’t even ask.”

“I don’t need to ask.”

She narrows her gaze. “I’m going to make this extremely clear for you, Caveman. You need to ask from now on. About everything.”

The glare she gives me confirms everything I suspected last night. The bottle may have gone too far. Despite the fact that she fucking loved it though. Did they get the food delivered on purpose just so she could drill the fact that I go too far into me? Or is this just a happy coincidence?

“Do you think saying that to me is going to make an actual difference, Little Miss Astor? I don’t care. You don’t want me to have your food? Fine. I don’t need it.” I push away from the island and begin to skulk back to my room, berating myself for being unable to ask a simple damn question. It flowed so easily from Alaric’s mouth. It didn’t sound like he was asking for a handout. It didn’t sound like he was begging for scraps or losing a part of himself.

Why can’t I fucking do the same?

“Unbelievably stubborn,” Eden muses as I walk away.

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