Page 80 of Vicious Little Snakes
The moment I say it, I hate how weak it sounds.
“Was that positivity from a Pinterest quote?” he teases, turning and giving me his back. “Hell has officially frozen over.”
Grey stands from his bed, and his bare ass has my head turning away as I counter, “Even the devil has optimism for her success. And ass.”
“How am I an ass—” His question cuts short because I suspect he’s looked down. “Well. That’s a whole new take on rise and shine. Okay. Get out, monster, and let me get dressed for this fucking debacle.”
I turn, walking toward the door, and as my hand hits the handle, Grey throws out, “Did I see Liam sneaking into your room last night?”
“You did. We’re fine. And I’m not talking about it.”
“Good. I didn’t want to hear about it.”
The smile is ever present in his voice, and it makes me want to do the same, but instead, I say, “Thank you. You’re the worst brother,” quietly, hearing his chuckle as I walk out.
* * *
Two hours later, I’m sitting at a table in the middle of Grey’s father’s club, tense and wishing I’d canceled when Grey suggested it. My mother’s said no more than ten words to me—none of which werehappy birthday.
I don’t know why I’m so fixated, but it seems like the easiest thing to say to another person. People say it to strangers on fucking social media, at restaurants when a cake is delivered, but she can’t bring her mouth to form the syllables—in English or French.
“The house seems to be running well in my absence, Grey.”
As if you did anything before.
Even her compliments sound like insults. I suspect that’s on purpose—what a tragic personality trait of an insecure expired fauxcolite.
“You sound surprised,” I answer, in Grey’s place.
“I am,” she levels, before slicing into her food. “But not abouthisability.”
Evan’s fork makes a light scrape against the plate before dropping his utensils and shaking his head. He immediately motions for the waiter.My eyes shoot to Grey, who was over this brunch before it began.
“This frittata is flat. Make it again.”
But before the waiter can leave, Grey adds, “Oh, and Louis, give my compliments to the chef for this quiche,c’estmanifique. Truly brilliant.”
The waiter tries to hide his smile, taking Evan’s plate as I huff an empty laugh. Grey shoots me a smirk before rolling up his shirtsleeves. It’s funny, he’s always just been Grey, stepbrother/pain in the ass, but for the first time, he looks like a man too. There’s nothing imbalanced between him and his father. Not anymore. He isn’t afraid of disappointing him or even going to battle.
What I’d give for that kind of confidence.
My gaze shifts to my mother, taking her in. Staring at the fine lines diminished by Botox and that damn cold demeanor that’s always lingering in every expression.
What’s so scary about you?Or is it that I fear all the shit she says to me is true—that I’m unlovable, less, ugly, stupid.But Liam loved me, just as I was.
He loved me when I was chubby and a fake blonde and even now—when I’m ugly on the inside.
“So, what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Evan?” Grey speaks, breaking me from my thoughts.
Grey’s voice is laden with so much sarcasm that it drawsa furiouslook from Evan because we all know why Evan’s here. To grovel because Grey signs his papers tomorrow.
I pick up my fork, riveted by the fight about to happen, stabbing a slice of strawberry. My mother glances at my plate, but I roll my eyes and take two more bites before I smirk.
Fuck you, Maman, I’m hungry.
After last night, I probably won’t be getting a golden ticket anyway, so I might as well bulk up so I can be an even bigger disappointment. Bitch.
Evan counters with a challenging remark, and Grey does the same, but it’s worse—at least that’s what Evan’s face displays. My mother leans over, tapping her long nail on the table to get my attention.
