Page 64 of Bottle Shock
“Six. Got it.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension building between us. “I should go before Lily decides to come looking for me.”
Scottie finally looks up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Good call.”
I can’t tell if she’s in shock or feeling something else entirely. All I know is I came here to remind my fake wife to schedule with the listing agent—and I’m leaving with her as my real fiancée.
“You’re awfully quiet,” my mom says. “Everything okay?”
I look up to find the entire table staring—eleven pairs of eyes on me at once, twelve if you count Goose, who’s curled up in the corner, head lifted like he understands what’s going on.
“Fine,” I say, and take a large bite of mashed potatoes, pretending it requires my full attention.
My answer doesn’t fool my mother. Leanne Ledger is seldom, if ever, fooled.
She studies me from across the table, her stare relentless.Keeping things from her has never been easy, and she’s always been good at sniffing out the truth. “Long day?”
“Just a day,” I answer, too fast. The words scrape my throat on the way out.
“Dad was busy with Scottie today,” Lily says, nudging her peas into a perfect line with her fork, as if precision might distract me from the fact she’s not eating them.
“Oh yeah?” my dad asks, looking up from his plate. “Any news on a house?”
I clear my throat. “There’s only one available, but I’m in the running to get it. All thanks to Scottie.” I leave out the part where she’s my fake wife—soon to be real wife—for obvious reasons.
That earns a few nods, and thankfully the conversation drifts to safer topics. Layla’s nursing school graduation. Ethan and Marisa’s remodel. Dominic maybe running for sheriff.
It’s times like this I’m grateful for a big family. The noise fills every space that would otherwise be too quiet, and I can usually disappear into it unnoticed. Usually.
Elyse mentions Scottie’s name to Ariana—something about her possibly getting back to work soon—and I catch Lily’s head whip around.
“Scottie spent the night at our house,” Lily says to no one in particular, but she’s got the floor now.
Elyse’s smirk is instant, her head tipping to the side, eyes narrowing on me. “Is that so? Spent the night, huh?”
“In the pool house,” I clarify, rolling my eyes like I’m annoyed—even as my pulse kicks up in panic. “Her parents had people over, and she wanted some space.”
Elyse frowns, though the slight arch of her brow says she’s not buying it. “She came to you instead of me? That’s weird.”
Dropping my head, I shove food around my plate, staring at it like it’s suddenly fascinating. “It’s not a competition, Elle.”
“She stayed for breakfast too,” Lily adds, proud of herself for contributing.
I close my eyes, a silent wince shuddering through me.
Me and Lily are going to have a talk after this about keeping things that happen at homeat home.But then again, asking a seven-year-old not to share every microscopic detail of her life might qualify as wishful thinking.
“A sleepover and breakfast,” Elyse says slowly. “That’s interesting.”
“Stop making it something it’s not,” I say, forcing my tone to stay level, even though it wants to climb into that defensive octave. “She needed a place to stay, and I always make a big breakfast on Sundays. Not exactly breaking news.”
My mom’s mouth curves like she’s trying not to smile. “Well, I’m glad she felt comfortable enough to come to you.”
“She’s family,” Dad says simply. “We look out for each other.”
Rather than say anything—further prolonging any discussion of Scottie—I stay quiet.
Conversation starts to pick up again—Lily’s upcoming spelling test and the winery’s fall festival—but my mom’s gaze continues to find its way back to me.
She knows something’s up. I swear, in another life, she was an interrogator—someone who could pull the truth out of people with that unwavering stare of hers.
