Page 91 of Just a Plot Twist
“Sure. I’m disappointed that Thomas’s president did that, but like I told them, I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Yeah, Thomas was trying to keep things quiet. I doubt he’s talked to his other sons about it.” Dread pools inside of me. “If you hear anything about that, please let me know,” I implore.
Sophie says she will. “And hey, I want to bring you a milkshake soon, okay? What’s your flavor of the month?” she asks.
I like to sample the entirety of the menu because I don’t discriminate against ice cream. But Sophie’s a diehard fan of one milkshake at the place near Longdale Lake, Shake, Shake, Shake.
“Anything but your peanut butter black licorice monstrosity,” I say.
She feigns mock indignance. I’ve hated on her favorite flavor for years.
Now I’m not only wide awake, I’m stewing. I need to talk to Grandma and Grandpa about dating Benson, that he’s a part of the Tate family, and about their connection to the Schillers.
I just have no idea how.
And another thing that is hard? Perhaps becoming a stepmother to Dax and Indie.
I sigh and bury my head in my pillow. I love them. They’re bright and funny and respectful. Seeing the love the three of them share fills me with happiness.
But I never wanted to be a stepmother.
The other night, outside The Summit restaurant with Indie, I was out of my element—like a foreigner in a strange land. And even though it ended up okay, it was scary to feel so out of my depth. I was an outsider. My tongue was so tightly tied, and I didn’t have any clue about the proper boundaries between us. I hated not knowing what I should or shouldn’t say or do.
I can’t be a mom to her and Dax—they already have a good one.
Can I do this?
Becoming a stepmom wasn’t ever in my plans. Suddenly, I’m stuck, like I’m under the surface of Longdale Lake, struggling to break free.
And I can’t breathe.
“You have the perfect wave right here.” Benson’s staring at my hair and I don’t hate it. I’m sitting so close to him that how could I hate anything?
We just dropped the kids off at their mom’s house in Highland’s Ranch. And then we made a quick stop at a dog park halfway home so Cinnamon can socialize.
We’re finally back at his place, hanging out on his sofa. Alone, except for Cinnamon. But now it’s starting to get late, and I should either go or bring up the conversation I need to start with Benson.
Lying on a throw pillow in his lap, I slide my fingers through his hair. “Youhave the perfect wave right here.”
The way he’s gazing at me? And the slight divot in his neck, near the Adam’s apple, the scar he got playing basketball when he was Dax’s age…something about a moving screen gone wrong.
All of it is messing with my mind.
“Have you heard anything yet?” Benson asks.
“About the job? No. But Inez’s been sending me photos of her babies!” I pull it up on my phone. She even shared a folder of the behind-the-scenes goodness with the newborns. “This one is CeCe and this one is Raya.”
Benson smiles at the photo. “They’re so little.”
I hesitate before diving in. “So, you know how my grandparents aren’t exactly fans of your family?”
“Yeah.” He sounds like he’s bracing himself.
“I got an interesting phone call from Sophie this morning. Because she’d just gotten an interesting phone call from my grandparents.”
“Okay.”
“They’re upset about Peter being fired from Foundations.”
