Page 48 of Selfish Desires

“That’s very rude.” Marjorie studied her nails, seemingly unbothered by the name-calling.

“Vincent, be nice,” Wendy added, reaching under the table to gently squeeze my thigh.

“Okay, okay.” I relented, grinning at Marjorie over the rim of my water glass. Her feigned indignation was a sight to behold, a well-practiced act that had never failed to entertain me, even as a child.

“Right, so Newport,” Marjorie continued, expertly steering the conversation back on track as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Do you think you’ll get engaged now that you’re back together?”

“Oh my God, Mom.” I slumped in my chair, slapping my hand over my eyes.

“Marjorie,” Wendy began, touching Mom’s forearm. “Vincent and I are doing great. Plus, did you hear the news? Vincent is buying a gorgeous property and turning it into a bed and breakfast.”

Marjorie perked up at this, her eyes gleaming with interest. “Oh, really? When did this come to fruition?”

“Earlier in the week, we signed contracts, and I put a deposit down. Wendy is going to help run the kitchen there.” Absentmindedly, I reached for Wendy’s hand, our fingers intertwined. “The place is going to be great.”

“Hold on. I thought you were an attorney?” Marjorie asked, scrunching her nose.

“I am an attorney,” I answered through gritted teeth.

“It doesn’t sound like you were practicing much law the last few years. Your law school was a fortune.” Mom shook her head.

“I refuse to go back into corporate if that’s what you’re hinting toward,” I spat. Just thinking about those long nights and the pure mundane nature of corporate firm culture sent spasms down my back.

“I’m just saying practice law. It’s what you’re made to do.” Mom shrugged, and when I met her with zero reaction, she quickly shifted her stance and cleared her throat. “So, will you let me stay there when I come to visit?” Marjorie raised a testing eyebrow.

“If you can afford to.” I grinned.

“Do you see how my own son treats me? You’re my witness.” Marjorie pointed to Wendy before leaning over and planting a red-lipped kiss on Wendy’s forehead, leaving a mark. “You are so delicious.” She patted Wendy’s cheek before grasping her hand. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“Me too.” Wendy smiled.

“And when you do get engaged, will you tell me? Because I know Vincent won’t.” Marjorie pointed to my shrinking figure.

“Mom, can we please just chill?” I squeezed the bridge of my nose, threatening to crack the bone.

“Engaged? Who’s getting engaged?” said a familiar voice from behind.

I whipped my head around in time to catch Wendy’s eyes popping.

“Hey, Stephen,” said Wendy, half laughing.

Stephen’s eyes settled on me before shifting to Wendy.

“Vincent,” he greeted, the corner of his mouth twitching in a knowing smirk. He had always been a little too sure of himself for my liking.

I forced myself to sit up straighter. “Stephen,” I returned, my voice carefully neutral, offering my hand, and he accepted it, pumping twice.

“Stephen, this is Vincent’s mother, Marjorie.” Wendy motioned to Mom, who sat there with a smile plastered to her face.

Stephen reached forward, flashing a dazzling smile that made any person melt. “A pleasure to meet you. But you look far too young to be anyone’s mother. Let alone this guy’s.” Stephen pointed to my head.

What the fuck did Stephen know about me?

“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” I warned, my voice dropping an octave. Wendy squeezed my hand under the table to calm me.

“So, Stephen,” Wendy started, her voice giving away nothing of the tension that had just bloomed. “How’s the event coming along? Did you get the menu I sent over?”

Stephen stepped back from the table, redirecting his slimy gaze onto Wendy. It was enough to make my jaw clench. “Yeah, Wen. Everything looks fantastic. I’ll drop off the final payment tomorrow at the restaurant if that’s okay?”

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