Page 83 of Heart of Thorns

“It’s okay.” Briar rests her hand on my wrist. “I understand what you meant by that, Mrs. Thorne. I do have hobbies of my own.”

“Hobbies are important.” My father meets my gaze. “Hobbies like football are great for exercise. And luckily, Cassius chose to be a quarterback, which lends to his excellent leadership abilities. That’s why we allow it, quite frankly.”

My chest tightens, and my attention falls to my now-empty bowl of cold, shitty soup. Before I can come up with a retort, the server has returned to clear the table. They whisk away the empty bowls and return with a fresh bottle of wine.

Football is not a hobby.

It never has been.

Briar’s fingers drum on my wrist, lightly, dragging my attention over to her. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and smiles at me.

She’s calm in the face of all of this. But why shouldn’t she be? At the end, when this is over—when our fake relationship has run its course—I will be stuck with my asshole parents, and she’ll get to walk away.

And I hate that.

The next course and the third pass with little incident.

It’s between the third and fourth course that their conversation turns back to us.

Well, Briar.

“You mentioned hobbies.” Father focuses on Briar. “What exactly are those?”

She sits up straighter. “I paint. And I used to play hockey.”

“Hockey,” he repeats slowly.

“Painting,” Mom interrupts. “What kind of painting? Portraits? We hire a wonderful artist every few years to give us an updated family portrait. Of course, getting Cassius to sit still long enough was always the challenge…”

“She painted the locker room mural,” I say quietly. “It came out beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she whispers. To my parents, she adds, “It goes along with the art degree.”

They both pause.

“Art degree?” Mom tilts her head to the side, narrowing in on Briar.

The thing about my mother… she’s fickle. She has a kind heartsometimes. Like maybe, initially, she gave Briar a chance. But as soon as she hears something she doesn’t like, a switch flips.

“Yes.” Briar raises an eyebrow. “I know it’s not very practical, but I decided to focus on doing something I love.”

My heart squeezes.

“Well,” Mom pats at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “I suppose your taste in men will make up for that… salary difference. If this is the lifestyle you’re going to accustom yourself with, attaching yourself to the Thorne name.”

“Mom.”

She ignores me, focused on Briar. “At least the women in our circles know what they’re getting into.”

“That’s enough,” I say. “Briar knows what she’s getting into withme. But I should’ve better warned her about you.”

“I’m fine,” Briar says softly. “I know what I want to do with my life, and I am free to do it.”

“Your parents must be very…”

“Supportive,” Briar finishes.

“Of course, dear.” Mom turns to me. “Cassius, I completely forgot. I ran into Vanessa Keenland and her daughter, Cynthia, when I was getting my nails done earlier this week. Cynthia was asking about you.”

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