Page 38 of Mr. Aster
He inhaled deeply, exhaled, and then sat back and studied me. “This is the thing,” he started, “you maythinkyou know what you’re doing by involving my parents, but you’ve just opened Pandora’s box on yourself. You see, ifIhad told them about this nonsense about you and me, I would’ve been able to keep my mother from approaching you about it.”
“And?” I answered nonchalantly. “I’m not afraid of Margot Aster, just like I’m not afraid of you.”
“Well, that’s to be determined,” he said, finding something humorous about this. “Perhaps you should’ve asked my brother’s wife how my mother treated her when you met on the yacht?”
“Mickie and I weren’t close enough to trade war stories about her mother-in-law at the time. So, unfortunately, your mom never came up.”
“That’s a shame because if Mickie and you had known each other better, I’m confident she would’ve warned you against this reckless idea.”
I sighed, “Any more stupid shit you want to try and scare me with? Your parents know, and they’ll be here Monday. And newsflash, pal, your parents aren’t the only ones being lied to. My parents are, too, and it will upset them when they know the truth.”
“Oh, no, sweet cheeks. My parents won’t be upset that they were lied to about this. They’ll be wildly relieved to find out it was a silly and childish idea.”
“Fantastic for them. Regardless, they’ll be here, and yourmotherwon’t have jack shit to say to me about her dislikes.”
“You’re confident in that assumption?”
“If she wants herfamily’sname envied by all the other miserable, rich bastards in the land, then yes.”
“Allow me to inform you here and now that if Margot Aster gets an inkling that you are playing games with her, she’ll?—”
“She’ll what? Insult my family? Too late. You’ve already done that better than anyone,” I answered him. “Perhaps she’ll make us break up, which I willgladlydo, and hopefully, she’ll hurt my feelings enough and scare me away like Iknowshe tried to do with your brother’s wife. If she does, I’llhaveto break up with you because I couldn’t bear to stay in a relationship with her prized son, who is so greatly above me and my lowly status,” I said, knowing more about his mother than I wanted Sebastian to believe.
He stared at me, finally backed into the same damn corner he’d backed me into earlier today with all this bullshit.
“Very well, then,” he said as he stood and disappeared into the kitchen with his plate and wine glass.
I couldn’t hear what the hell was going on in there, but hearing all the crashing of dishes led me to assume that this man had more than just grief issues. He had anger and control issues as well. He was a beautiful disaster of bullshit, and I wasn’t going to sit here another second and listen to him take out his frustrations on the kitchen.
As I stood to march inside and ask him what his fucking problem was, he reemerged from the house.
“Oh, no, you don’t, cupcake,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere until we’ve laid some ground rules to follow from here on out.”
He was holding a brand-new bottle of his fancy tequila, and I rolled my eyes, unamused by his authoritative tone and presence.
“Already drowning relationship issues in booze, eh? Seems like a perfect idea.”
“And with that smartass remark, our first rule is that you stop acting like a nagging wife of twenty-four years who I’m stuck in a marriage with,” he said, pouring two glasses of tequila. “Be the cute,fakegirlfriend you signed on to be.”
“That’s just the thing,” I answered, holding my hand up to turn down the glass of booze when he offered it to me, “this is how I act as a girlfriend.”
“Oh,” he said, sipping the tequila from the glass I refused. “Well, that clears up my confusion about why a stunning woman like yourself has no one special in her life.”
“Cute,” I said. “Tell me the next rule so that I can go to bed. I have a headache.”
“No using the fake headache excuse to go to bed before eight in the evening just to get out of my presence,” he said, mostlikely trying to be funny and stop this from escalating to all-out war.
“Fine. Seriously, Sebastian, snap to it. I don’t have all night for this. You might think this is fun and cute, but I do not.”
“Call me Seb,” he said. “It’s my nickname for those closest to me. I prefer that name, and I do not need you falling out of character by using formalities. Also, my late wife used to call mebabe,so do not call mebabyagain. That is a hard and fast rule.”
“Fine, I get that. And while we’re on the topic of nicknames, the word cupcake must also be removed from your vocabulary.”
“Very well. It’s gone.”
“In fact, nocutenames at all. Period. Everyone who knows me knows I wouldn’t call a boyfriend any kind of a pet name,especiallybaby,” I said, with an arch of my eyebrow. “And I know damn well everyone who knows you knows you’re not the kind of man to easily throw out a pet name, especiallycupcake.”
“Well, I’d only planned to use that in front of your parents because I assumed they’d eat it up, and they did, of course.”
