Page 66 of The Wrong Promise

I shoot her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Mom.” If she hears the slightest inkling a woman might be involved, then there’ll be no stopping her interference. I witnessed her meddling with Penny and Franklin. She has met Zara before and would be on the first fucking flight to London.

I take my seat and read the special Thanksgiving menu printed for each setting.

Main

Whole turkey with seafood bread stuffing (Alaskan king crab, Maine lobster, Southern Bluefin tuna otoro, and golden caviar from the Caspian Sea),

seasoned with imported saffron and spices and covered in edible gold flakes

Sides

Candied sweet potatoes andbutternut squash seasoned with spices from India

Caramelized onions with spices from Egypt

Sauces

Cranberry sauce with Sembikiya Queen strawberries and dekopon citrus from Japan

Asparagus vinaigrette with Pappy Van Winkle Family Reserve Bourbon

Gravy infused with Louis XIII Cognac

Dessert

Pumpkin and pecan pies with apple and coconut custard

My mother’s idea of Thanksgiving is firstly about being grateful, and her prayers reflect her appreciation. Our meals are extravagant. Only today, the fancy menu is next level.

Byron makes a face at his best friend and teammate, Brandon, the Aussie who practically lives here. “Jesus,” Byron mutters. “We’ll need to train five times a day to be ready for our next game.”

I grin at him. It is excessive even for my mother. Dad brings out a bottle of Michter’s 25-year bourbon whiskey and hands me a glass, which I down quickly.

“I spoke to Zara,” Penny tells me. “She looks happy. I mentioned the gala and how Frank and I want to attend,” she says with excitement in her voice. “I just want to see her. I think she’s as excited as me.”

Is that what Zara told Penny?

I nod and down more whiskey, ignoring the way Franklin is eyeballing me. “She misses you,” I tell her. “I don’t see her often, but she is endeavoring to enjoy the time she has there.”

“She said she made new friends.” The way Penny is staring, I sense it’s a quiz on how close we are. I told her I check in on Zara most trips and no one needs to know anything more.

“She was with them once when I messaged her.” I’m doing my best to act naïve, but the weight of Franklin’s eyes boring into me has me sweating.

“Zara is staying at your penthouse now?”

My gaze flits to Frank, then back at Penny. “Yes, but we come and go at different times. I’ve barely seen her.”

“Jobe’s penthouse is huge. His bedroom is at one end, and the other bedrooms are at the other end, along with the media room,” Franklin points out.

“And I leave for the office at the crack of dawn and in bed early,” I emphasize.

“Oh, right.” Realization hits Penny. “Zara likes to sleep in and is a night owl.”

Don’t I know it.

“After talking to Lacey…” Mom begins and looks at Penny’s mom sitting at the end of the table, “… we decided next year we’ll have a smaller lunch after we volunteer at a soup kitchen.” Pride shines in Mom’s eyes.

I stare into the empty glass. What’s in the fucking whiskey?My mother announced she will work in a soup kitchen…

---