Page 54 of Sold Rejected Mate
As we file into the dining room and say hello to my parents, I think about Valerie’s face as we pulled through the gate. If she thought my house was something, her response to my parents was full and complete awe.
When I brought her in, I saw it through her eyes—the red brick and white columns, the perfectly manicured lawns. As a kid, I thought a house this size was normal. That everyone had wings and guest quarters and staff.
But that was not the case. Even the alpha supreme’s family didn’t have a cleaner. When I got to Silverville High, I quickly realized that I was the wealthiest kid there. That my family was the richest one in the valley.
“Thank you so much for coming,” my mother says, kissing my cheek and greeting Valerie warmly.
At first, when I saw them at the farmers' market, my stomach dropped. It’s not like I was avoiding them. Not like I’m ashamed of Valerie. I’ve been busy with the fires, trying to figure out what the hell is going on there. And even if I wasn’t, it’s not like I owe my parents an explanation or a check-in.
But I knew what they’re going to be like. At least, I thought I knew what they were going to be like, and I justdidn’t want to deal with it. With the shit-talking and emotional manipulation. My mother crying, and my father reminding me to value the family name.
And yet, here we are. Valerie and I. Invited to dinner.
The dining table seats up to fourteen, but the five of us sit crowded around one end like we might get lost in all the mahogany on the other side. Tonight, the table is done up for aspecialguest—crystal glasses that catch light from the chandelier, delicate china, and silverware that’s actually made from silver.
Valerie is next to me, Caspian across from me beside my mother, and my father—as always—sits at the head of the table.
I’d kill not to have to stare at Caspian for the rest of the night. For all my parents’ talk of being selective with partners, they sure found the first boneheaded, thumb-faced middle linebacker from a good family and stuck them together.
“This salmon is incredible, Mrs. Cambias,” Valerie says, but I see the way she picks at it. I’ve learned, over the past two weeks, that she doesn’t like seafood. I should have said something to my mom about it. I can see in the stiff line of Valerie’s shoulders that she’s uncomfortable. Maybe overwhelmed by the formal dining room, the oil paintings and the crown molding.
“Thank you, dear,” my mom says, her East Coast accent coming in thickly. “It’s wild-caught. We get it special-delivered. Our cook works with a fisher straight from Alaska.”
Valerie blinks. “That’s—that’s great.”
“Where did you say you were from? Do you not get much seafood there?”
“Uh, I’m from here.” Valerie shifts in her seat, clears her throat, and offers my mother a stiff smile. “Silverville, born and raised.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Mom laughs and reaches for her wine, though maybe she doesn’t need it. “I wasrackingmy brain to try and remember where I heard the name Foley, but I just couldn’t remember. Odd to never have seen you out and about. But some parts of Silverville can be so insular, don’t you think, darling?”
“There are certainly parts of this town we don’t see often,” Dad agrees, his eyes darting to mine.
I can see where this is going. And I don’t like it. There’s an awkward pause, and Caspian clears his throat.
“Speaking of that,” he says, “Aurela and I have decided on Italy for our honeymoon.”
I glance at Valerie—speaking of what?—and back to my mother, who looks overjoyed.
“You’re going to love it, Caspian,” she coos. “I’ll get you in touch with our contacts there. Frederick and I went to Milan for our sixtieth—the wine wasto die for. I think we still have a bottle. Maybe we should break it out?”
“I’ll check the cellar,” Dad says, already pushing out of his seat.
“Well, I was pushing for Nice,” Caspian says, smiling. “But who knows—maybe when we’re done with Italy, we’ll extend the trip. We always get so wrapped up in each other, we might need more time.”
First, that makes me want to be sick. And second, I’ve never even seen Caspian and my sister in a room together, let alonewrapped upin one another.
“Of course, I’ve been to Italy already,” Caspian laughs, eyes darting to Valerie. “What about you?”
“Have I…? Oh, no.” Valerie lets out a short, quick laugh. “I’ve never left Colorado.”
That hangs over the table for a second, and Caspian clears his throat, sitting up again, glancing at my mother as though waiting for a sign of what to do next.
“Have you been in school, dear?” Mom asks, darting a look in my direction. “I know so many people get consumed with their studies, but you have to remember that travel is good for the soul.”
“I mean, I’ve been working,” Valerie says, her voice softening at the end of the sentence. “After high school.”
Dad returns with the wine, and if he notices the awkward silence, he says nothing, just works to uncork the bottle and looks around with a grin when it’s open.
