Page 57 of Things We Tell Ourselves

“Coming,” she calls after her.

“I don’t think your mother likes me,” Sadie pouts after a moment.

Camille catches herself about to nod in agreement and takes a bite of toast instead.

“Nonsense,” Easton protests, snatching up the first of the three slices of bread out of the toaster. “You’re hot, and you’re smart enough to run your mom’s clothing line. What’s not to like?”

Sadie frowns at him as he reaches for the strawberry jelly. “I don’t think your mother cares about my looks. You should have seen the way she was glaring at me. Am I right?” she asks, looking at Camille.

“Easton’s her baby,” Camille says with a shrug. “She’s a protective mother.”

“Protective my foot,” Sadie grumbles, picking up the next piece of bread that pops up from the toaster.

Easton frowns a little.

“She sure doesn’t care what her other son spends his time doing,” she mutters, biting into the toast.

Camille opens her mouth to ask her what she means by that when Sadie’s face turns to one of utter disgust.

“Ugh,” she barks, dropping the toast next to the toaster. Crumbs bouncing off in all directions as it hits the counter. “I am not wasting calories on this glorified cardboard.” She spins around for the chrome-plated phone on the kitchen wall.

Easton swipes up the discarded toast, adding it on top of the one covered in jelly. He bites into them like a sandwich.

“Tastes fine to me.”

He takes the piece of toast off Leah’s plate and adds it to his toast sandwich.

“We’re going for a swim if you want to join,” he offers Camille.

“Maybe in a bit,” she responds, almost finished with her toast.

Sadie puts her hand over the phone at her ear. “I’ll be out there in a minute.”

“Chop, chop,” Easton says, heading for the patio where the pool awaits with new towels rolled up at the foot of each pool chair.

Sadie turns to the phone receiver, grumbling. “I am not going to eat toast when there’s a perfectly good chef on the payroll,” she glances back at Camille and lets out a sigh in annoyance, returning the phone to the receiver. “No answer.” She examines Camille in a way that she tries to ignore, focusing on what’s left of her toast.

“What do you think about how Easton’s mother was treating me?” Sadie asks.

“Leah?” Camille chokes, hurrying to finish her last bite. “She was only trying to get a feel for you. She should be protective—she’s their mother. You are dating her baby.”

Sadie crosses her arms over her chest, scrutinizing something on the counter. “Nah,” she retorts, slowly shaking her head, “I don’t think that’s it. It’s me.”

“Come on—” Camille starts but Sadie’s quick to cut her off.

“I don’t think you know these people like I do. Leah may come off all loving, and maybe she is, but as much as she’s protective of Easton, she’s got to know what her oldest son has done. And if she’s okay with him ruining people’s lives, then who is she to judge my character.” Sadie’s voice takes on an edge, a darkness passing over her eyes in a way that Camille knows that she needs to proceed with caution.

“Wade?” It comes out like a question, but she already knows he’s who Sadie is talking about.

Sadie’s eyes meet Camille’s.

“Yes, Wade.” She glances past Camille out the window. “It’s people like him who give the decent men in the world like Easton a bad name.” Sadie moves closer to Camille. “Did Wade tell you what he did to my sister?”

Camille should have prepared herself for something like this the second she realized that Sadie was related to the girl in those texts. Wade’s messages from V. Quinn were the words of an immature woman. There’s no telling what she’s told Sadie about their date and the subsequent texts, not that she expects someone to openly admit to their family about how deranged they’d acted.

Sadie sneers at her, not waiting for an answer. “Of course, he didn’t tell you. He probably hasn’t told a soul. Why would he? Men like him use women up and spit them out.”

Camille’s eyes start to glaze over. She doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be a part of bashing the man who just gave her one of the best nights of her life.

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