Page 60 of Love Her

They were trying to rile me, obviously, but I had been swimming with sharks since I was thirteen.

I rocked back in my seat. “Sounds like one of you is wearing a wire,” I said with prim menace.

Zane lurched forward at that. “Want to go into the bathroom with me to find out?”

Wes hissed and elbowed his brother, hard.

“Have you two been playing good-cop, bad-cop since birth?” I wondered aloud—and that made Zane laugh.

“Maybe, yeah,” he said, then looked past me. “Here comes dad.”

I twisted over my shoulder in time to see Marcus’s arrival. “Sorry for being late,” he said, dropping a kiss the top of my head like it was nothing—and for a split-second everything that was in me wanted to revolt. Flip the table, stab him with a steak-knife, scrape that one part of my scalp off with a fork—but I managed to catch myself in time and give him my best Stepford Wife smile as he sat down.

“I see you’ve met my boys,” he said.

“Yes—they were just asking me about my family’s criminal record,” I said.

Marcus turned to glare at them at once.

“What a rat,” Zane said with dismay.

“And how was your trip to the doctor?” Wes asked, trying to take control of the conversation back.

I scrunched my face in distaste. “I’m not entirely sure why the whole state of New York needs to know I got a pap smear and my annual, but, I guess that’s where we are.”

That earned me the kind of horrified look that let me know while Wes had been birthed by a vagina, and near a vagina by virtue of his name or money, he hadn’t earned the right to be called a man yet—where as Zane just wildly snickered.

“Yes, well,” Marcus said, taking the proffered menu from the waiter. “Moving on,” he said, ignoring the digression entirely.

I gotthe thrill of ordering for myself, but then after that was largely treated like a useless appendage. Seeing as I wasn’t vying for wife-or-mother of the year, I shouldn’t have minded, but it was frustrating to be sidelined.

Then again—it wasn’t worth making friends with the man myactualboyfriend was going to have to murder, really.

So I ate quietly, swallowing my thoughts and feelings along with my food, while the three of them discussed sports and politicians that I’d never bothered to care about. I paid attention, just in case there was anything I heard that could help Rhaim—but no one present seemed to have any dire allergies to bees or shellfish, or be scheduled to get their solo pilot’s license any time soon.

“And how was your day?” Zane bothered to ask before dessert. I knew he didn’t actually care—he just wanted to hear what inconsequential things I’d been forced to attend to.

“Nothing but wedding planning. With Arnold.”

“And how did that go?” Marcus asked, slightly more kindly. “I know you’ve got an interview with the Chronicle tomorrow?—”

I was bracing to tell him the details of my day—when he got a phone call. He glanced down and sighed. “I’ve got to take this—I’ll be right back—go on without me,” he said, standing up and abandoning me to his sons.

“So?” Zane pressed, eyes glittering, and I decided to cut to the chase.

“Look, I’m well aware we’re all the same age. I’m not asking to be your mom, here.”

Wes gave Zane a look. “That’s good—our mom was kind of a bitch.”

“But you’ve gotta admit, this looks pretty transactional,” Zane continued. “You butting in, looping your pussy around our dad’s neck—then you pop out a kid?—”

I only barely refrained from a full body shudder. “Trust me, I have an IUD,” I lied. “And it is never coming out.”

“Then what do you get out of the deal?” Weston asked.

“Same thing you do,” I said, sipping my water. “An inheritance. And—the chance to wear more beige than I’ve ever owned in my life.”

Wes sputtered—and Zane snickered.

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