Page 69 of Moonlit Temptation

“No, not at all.” I cocked my head to the side. “Why would he?”

“Your brother mentioned Saint took you out to dinner your first night there, though I couldn’t fathom why. What did you two talk about?”

Couldn’t fathom why. How about because it was my birthday?

I bit my tongue to not start a fight.

This was not the time, not the time, not the time.

“We actually talked about you, Dad. And your award you were receiving that night. How did that go, by the way? I didn’t hear from you at all while I was there.”

“It went fine. A standard award ceremony. Could’ve made the slideshow of my triumphs longer, but it was manageable.”

This was the beloved mayor the town had elected to look over them. I didn’t see the charm people swore they saw in him.

“I had a great time, too,” I chirped when he didn’t ask. “I went to some of the places I always talked about with Mom?—”

“Madelayne.” My father’s voice was frostier than a blizzard’s night. “Enough.”

My molars grounded together as I glared at the rack of lamb on my plate.

I hated lamb on principle. Veal, too. Which was why my father served both tonight.

Slowly, I set my fork down.

It was easier to fight the urge to launch it at his face when I wasn’t holding it.

I knew I was pressing my luck by bringing Mom up.

Truthfully, I hadn’t even meant to. It slipped before I could catch myself.

She would’ve hated this.

Mom was a person who celebrated life, even when it was dark with hard times. There was always a high to come out of even the toughest days. She taught us to focus on that, and instead of celebrating her, we hid her memories.

It wasn’t fair.

Jessa reached under the table and gripped my hand.

I held on tight, feeling my brother’s gaze on me as well. I didn’t look at either of them as shameful tears stung my eyes.

She deserved a better family than us.

Novaks don’t cry.

That was the first lesson our father taught us after Mom passed. We were at her funeral, scared and unsure, alone and heartbroken. The three of us looked to our father for solace and all he gave in return was stern tolerance.

No one talked again until dessert was served.

“Oh.” Archer broke the silence. “I forgot to mention this earlier. Saint’s having a dinner on Tuesday. You’re all invited.”

I nearly dropped the spoon holding my chocolate mousse.

“Will you two even have time for dinner?” Dad asked while my mind short-circuited.

A dinner with my entire family? What was Saint thinking?

He was the one that said we had to keep this a secret, and now in two days’ time, he wanted me to sit at a table with my family and pretend like my skin wasn’t still marked with the bruises he left on my body.

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