Page 68 of Bitter Secrets

Johan didn’t argue with her, but shuffled her to the side as a group of students came in. She turned on her heel and saw that Mo had snagged a corner table in the back. She scooted onto the bench seat and tuned into the conversations around her as she pulled out her notebook. Two tables down, a woman complained to her friend about her nightmare of a mother-in-law. Jasmine’s pen raced over the page as she tried to capture the woman’s gestures and colorful slang. She had to stop by the concierge desk later, so they could help her decode these phrases later.

After their drinks were delivered, she glanced up in time to see Mo grimace after taking a sip from his cup.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Mo grunted.

“He’s particular about his tea,” Johan explained and took a long drag from his cup. “My coffee’s phenomenal.”

“You can try one of mine if you like,” she said.

Mo curled his lip at her matcha latte and chai. “I’ll pass.”

She took pictures of the latte art before she went back to her notebook. It didn’t matter what she wrote. All that mattered was that words flowed from the tip of her pen. She rode the cadence and rhythm of the surrounding conversations. It was comforting to know that regardless of what anyone’s financial status, background, or country, they all had similar problems.

She filled the page with observations and details, no matter how trivial. Even as Roth’s voice beat at her consciousness, she dedicated a whole paragraph to describing a woman’s neon yellow hair, even pulling up her thesaurus on her phone to find a better word to replace the word ‘vibrant.’ She was neck-deep in avoidance mode. Roth blasted a hole in her boat. Instead of patching up the hole, she was tossing buckets of water overboard. If she didn’t deal with the hole soon, she’d go under, but she couldn’t bring herself to deal with it yet.

“Excuse me.”

She glanced at the woman at the next table, who was staring transfixed at her ostentatious wedding ring. The diamond reflected the meager light and glittered like the million-dollar jewel it was.

“Is that real?” the woman asked in hushed tones.

Jasmine gave her a pained smile. “I wish,” she lied.

The woman’s disappointment was obvious. She sighed and gave a philosophical shrug. “We can dream, right?”

“Right.”

As the woman finished her drink and left, Jasmine dropped her hand onto her lap. When her bare hand emerged, Mo frowned, but he didn’t voice his opinion. She was here to blend in, not draw attention to herself, which she was doing despite herself. Maybe it was the fact that they were sitting together and not talking that made people stare.

“Talk,” she said.

“Pardon?”

She waved her hand. “Act normal. Talk to each other. Don’t look like bodyguards.”

For a full minute, neither spoke, and then Mo said, “What shall we talk about?”

“Did you ever seeJohn Wick?” Johan asked.

As their deep rumbles became part of the white noise, her mind unspooled. Normally, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in a noisy environment, but in this case, the hectic environment canceled out her own mental chaos. The more she wrote, the better she felt. With a pen, she could build herself a portal to an alternate universe where she could forget her reality. She ignored the food when it arrived and focused on alleviating the crushing weight on her chest.

At some point, her observations switched to memories. She found herself recounting her time in London as a child. She spent most of her time observing the city from a hotel room as her sisters and Dad took care of business. She had been thrilled to attend the odd business dinner, but for the most part, she was largely ignored. That was nothing new. It was odd to think back on how grateful she had been to be included in any capacity, even if the only time she saw her family was during the plane ride.

I knew right from the start that you didn’t fit into your father’s world. You didn’t measure up to your sisters and were unhappy, neglected, lonely…

The pen halted as his words slipped through her flimsy armor and seeped into her like poison.

I didn’t expect you to be so accommodating.

She closed her eyes as black spots flickered on the edges of her vision.

“Mrs. Roth?”

She gripped the table with both hands as panic grabbed her by the throat and threatened to make her heart burst. She panted, tears slipping down her cheeks as she tried to seize control of her body that was going through a meltdown she couldn’t stop.

“Jasmine.”

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