Page 139 of The Dollhouse

“So, your boyfriends had to leave?” Wyatt asked, ever the gentleman and keeping his eyes above my chest. After the show on Friday, I was surprised he could even stand to be in the same room as me without bursting into flames. “They couldn’t stay with you until this dinner was over?” The way he spoke, it was clear he thought it wasn’t right, but it wasn’t as if I could tell him why they had to go.

Eh, you know, to kill a person or two. The usual things guys got up to on the weekend when they weren’t with their girl.

“No, they had to go. Their boss couldn’t wait. He needed their help with something.” That was all I would say on the matter. All I could say, really.

Wyatt blinked. “On the weekend? What do they do?”

“It’s complicated.” I shook my head. “And my other boyfriend works on Sundays, so he couldn’t come. It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I can handle my family on my own. I just… I sort of wanted to show them off, you know?”

He nodded. “I get it… I think. They’re definitely not like anyone else around here, kind of like you.” That last part sort of sounded like a compliment, but it was hard to tell, because I was busy staring at my shoes on the coffee table and wondering how tonight would go.

I knew I could hold my own. I just… it would be easier if they were with me, I think.

“Is your sister going to be there?” Wyatt asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” I laughed. “Tonight should be fun. Here’s hoping I make it home in one piece.”

“I’m not so much worried about you as I am about them,” he joked. “Are you going to need a ride home? I can hang out in the area. You can shoot a text when you’re ready to go—” A nice gesture, but an unnecessary one.

“I’ll walk home. I just didn’t want to get all sweaty beforehand. My parents would laugh me out of their house.” I chuckled again after that, even though I was being totally serious. If I showed up looking anything less than perfect, my parents would find some way to get back at me, to drag me back under their wings. I wouldn’t put it past them to try to lock me up in a mental institution or something. At least then I wouldn’t be able to smear their precious name any more than I already had.

Of course, Roman would burn the world down to get me out, so it wouldn’t work for too long.

After a while, Wyatt asked, “Nervous? I know we talked a little about it last week, but now that it’s here, I can imagine you might be feeling differently.” When I didn’t say anything right away, he added, “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it. Not that you don’t already have ears to listen, but…”

I set a hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. “Thank you. I do appreciate you, Wyatt.” I appreciated him, and I sure as hell didn’t deserve his kindness. Not while I was using him. He would undoubtedly hear all about the video after today. Willow wouldn’t keep that to herself. And then… then I’d have to figure out something to tell him.

Or nothing. Or I’d tell him nothing because I didn’t owe him anything. But—no, that felt wrong.

I timed it out perfectly. We left the house, giving ourselves the exact amount of time we’d need to make it over to the Marbella residence. Not early, not late. Right on time. And Wyatt was sweet throughout the drive, asking me again if I was sure I could do it alone. With my phone tucked away in a tiny clutch, the video edited and ready to be shared, I wasn’t exactly alone.

He didn’t need to know that, though, so I told him I could handle it.

It was as we pulled into my parents’ driveway that I got a text from Carter, saying they were on their way and they planned on coming straight to the dinner. I had no idea if they’d make it in time before I stormed out of there with both middle fingers high in the air, but I supposed, maybe, if I stayed for drinks after the main course, it might give them enough time.

They’d have to speed like demons on the road, breaking every speed limit in the process to get here, but somehow I knew if anyone was up for the challenge, it was Roman Russo.

“Thank you, Wyatt,” I spoke as I reached for the door handle. I had refrained from putting my seatbelt on, which had meant his car had been dinging angrily the entire drive, but I had to avoid possible wrinkles in the dress.

Wyatt’s green eyes turned to me, his expression heavy. I could tell he felt bad, that he wished he could help make things better for me. But, honestly, he was as underdressed as a person could be for an official dinner with my parents. He might as well be naked. “Good luck in there. No matter what happens or what they say, you got this.”

I shot him a smile, and then I got out of the car. I didn’t say anything to that, because the more I lingered in the car with him, the higher chance that my parents or Willow would be staring out of the window and see. Not that it mattered, but I didn’t want to piss them off immediately. I was hoping for a slow and steady rise in their anger and disdain toward me.

I walked up to the majestic front door, inhaling as I gazed up at the house I’d grown up in. It looked the same as ever, and yet it felt so different. More ominous, foreboding, and I knew exactly what horrible people lived in there.

Holding in a breath, I went for the doorbell, hitting it once. A gentle breeze blew my hair, cooling my nerves. I waited, and based on the time it took for the door to open, I assumed they were in the study downstairs, waiting for me and my guest to arrive. I’d told them I’d be bringing someone, and they probably assumed I’d bring Roman.

My plan was to bring Carter and Roman and throw everything off whack, but as everybody could plainly see, that hadn’t happened. Here’s hoping they made it here eventually, even if it was only for dessert or drinks after dinner. That’s when all the fun would be, anyway.

But the door swung open and my mother stood there, wearing a matching skirt and shirt combo with a flower pattern that put even the ugliest hospital chair to shame. Her blond hair was up, its long tresses pinned to the back of her head, giant diamond studs on her ears. A sparkling necklace hung around her neck, a matching bracelet on her right wrist. A few of her fingers held rings equally as dazzling, and she gestured for me to come in.

“Zoey, dear, there you are. We’ve been waiting.” My mother still had the nerve to imply I was late, even though I was anything but. Her eyes, much the color of mine, glanced around me, though it was more than clear I was there alone. “Where is your… I’m sorry, what was his name again?”

“Roman,” I said, stepping inside the house around her. She was unhurried in closing the door. “And he’s my boyfriend, Mom. You can call him that.” She waved me off, as if I insisted on something ridiculous or asinine.

“Well, the man isn’t here, so is he really that important to you?” She brought me through the house, hooking her arm through mine. “There are two people here who are dying to see you, and, perhaps it’s too forward of me to say, I’m sure they will be more than happy to see you are alone tonight.”

I opened my mouth, about to ask my mother just what the hell she was talking about, when she brought me into the downstairs study, where my father was currently entertaining two other people. They sat on small sofas, my father facing the couple. They each had small glasses in their hands, pre-dinner drinks.

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