Page 41 of Hat Trick

Without giving myself the chance to decide otherwise, I set the glossy magazine on the belt and then begin unloading thegroceries.

Zoe bumps her hip with mine. “I’m gonna take it that the, you know, was goodthen?”

My thighs involuntarily clench together at the memory of Marshall telling me to taste myself. “I’ve literally never hadbetter.”

I just hope I haven’t set myself up forheartbreak.

14

Gwen

Five hours later,I’m inhell.

“The lasagna isovercooked.”

My mother pushes her plate away like she’s worried something might launch out of the meat sauce and smack her in theface.

Fun fact, the lasagna isnotovercooked. No one else at the table has said so. Not Manuel. Not Carli, my mother’s chef who was wrangled into this dinner by, you guessed it, my mother herself. And not even Steven, my mom’s newboyfriend.

Yeah,boyfriend.

The divorce hasn’t even gone through yet and she’s already making up for losttime.

Fortunately for the rest of us, he’s not a complete jerk like her string ofexes.

With a slight grimace, Steven downs half his gin and tonic. “Addie, the lasagna is fine.” He looks to me with a reassuring nod. “I’m a bit of a lasagna connoisseur—if this bad boy had a problem, I’d mentionit.”

I’m not sure he would but I appreciate the sentiment. “Thanks,Steven.”

Seeking out my glass of wine, I tip it back and wonder why the hell I thought this would be a greatidea.

When will I get it through my head that Adaline will always find something wrong with what Ido?

As much as the weight of defeat settles on my shoulders, I refuse to give into it. At the end of the day,Ipaid for this meal,Ispent hours pulling it all together, from the flower bouquet on the table to the California red that everyone—aside from Steven—is drinking like there’s notomorrow.

I smile like I’m on the red carpet, wide and fake and showing off so many teethCrestjust might hire me for a new toothpaste commercial. “How was everyone’s day? Manny?” Manuel’s eyes go wide after being called on and he flashes me a thumbs-up. When it comes to my mother, Manuel O’Carlo turns as timid as a rabbit. I get it—not only does she cut his paycheck, but she has the opportunity to make his life hell. Right. Grabbing the wine bottle off the table, I offer it to Carli. “Morewine?”

“Fill the bitch up. I need it,bad.”

The words are low and throaty and clearly meant only for me, but Adaline’s voice rings out like a shotgun. “What did you say,Carli?”

“I said, umm . . .” Brown panicked eyes flick from me to my mother and backagain.

“Dessert!” If possible, my smile grows wider.And more fake. “She wants dessert. Which I have. The dessert, I mean. Plenty of dessert.” Oh God, I need to shut up. “Blueberry pie,anyone?”

Manny hangs his head, and I’m surprised he doesn’t bury his face in his palms and laugh out loud. His shoulders shake with mirth, and it’s enough movement, thanks to his elbows on the table, to send his wine glass teeteringover.

Onto my mother’s pristine whitetablecloth.

And all over her pale, yellowdress.

Oh . . .shit.

“Manuel.”

His name seeps out from my mother in a hiss that would rival Angelina Jolie as Maleficent. It’s not pretty, trust me, and it sure isn’t sweet. For his part, my mother’s butler cringes and leaps up from the table, muttering something about grabbingtowels.

He makes his escape in seconds, leaving the rest of us behind to deal with my mother’s impending outrage. When he catches my eye and winks just before he exits the room, I don’t know whether to applaud his outlandish maneuver or throw the damn wine bottle at the back of hishead.

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