Page 128 of Strictly the Worst

I almost want to laugh. She has no idea how close to the truth she is.

“Is it really any of your business?” Linda asks gently.

“That’s easy for you to say. You already have grandchildren. I’m ready for mine.”

Linda starts to laugh. “Are you sure about that? Imagine how angry you’d be if she got pregnant. You’d say she was a gold digger.”

“I guess I would.”

I swallow hard. They say eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, and right now I feel like crap. And I’m trapped because I can’t go anywhere.

“Just give her a chance. She seems lovely. Ava and the other girls seem to like her. And I trust their judgment, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” Linc’s mom mutters.

“Come on, dry your eyes and let’s go back. You and Linc can talk tomorrow.”

“He wants to spend time with her instead.” She just sounds sad now.

“Talk to Linc, then talk to her. Apologize,” Linda urges. “Tomorrow, when heads are clearer.”

She lets out a long breath. “Okay.”

The sound of heels hitting tile echoes throughout, and I know they must be getting ready to leave. I tiptoe back to a stall, gently closing the door so they can’t see me.

By the time I get back to the ballroom, everybody is seated at the table and the wait staff is pouring wine.

“Everything okay?” Linc murmurs as I sit next to him. He looks about as happy as I feel.

“Yeah.” I nod, lying through my teeth. “Everything is great.”

LINC

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask Tessa as we walk to the waiting town car. What a shit show of an evening. Despite my brothers’ best attempts to keep the conversation going, neither Tessa or I were particularly talkative. She barely ate. Just pushed her food around on her plate.

She nods as the driver opens the door for her and lets her in. I follow, sitting beside her, pulling her against me. When he closes the door and climbs into the driver’s seat I press my lips against hers.

“I’m sorry about my family. I didn’t know Mom was going to be like that.”

I wait for her to agree, but instead the worst fucking thing happens.

My beautiful, strong girl starts to cry.

Not just glistening eyes or a single tear. Full blown fat teardrops with a snotty nose and huffing breaths.

Alarm rushes through me.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I tell her, pulling her face against my chest. “I never should have made you come tonight.”

I wait for her to make a joke of it, but she doesn’t. I can feel the dampness of her tears wetting my shirt.

“It’s not your fault,” she sobs as I stroke her hair. “Your mom hates me.”

“No,” I whisper. “She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t know you. If she did she’d love you the same way I do.”

Tessa looks up at me. Mascara smudged all around her eyes. And on my shirt. Not that I give a fuck.

“You love me?” she whispers.

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