Page 133 of Play Pretend

“So, Willy,” Vanessa said, drawing Dad’s attention. He stopped mid-sentence and turned her way, apparently done with his story.

I couldn’t help but think if I’d done that, he would’ve gotten upset at the interruption.

“How long have you and Ronan been together?” she asked.

Ronan shifted in his chair, and I rested my hand on his thigh. It felt like marble beneath my palm, and I swallowed thickly. I’d never seen him so upset before.

“A year,” I rasped.

“Wow. A whole year.” She laughed again. “Can you believe that, Dad?”

“It’s certainly an accomplishment,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.

“Is it?” Lydia asked absently. “Vanessa and Grant have been together for—what? It’s been nearly ten years.”

Ronan grumbled something under his breath, something I couldn’t make out. No one paid him any attention, though.

“Ten years is definitely a bigger accomplishment,” Dad agreed. “Anyone can last a year. But ten? That’s a big deal.” He turned toward me. “You wouldn’t understand. You were only with Daniel for a few years?—”

“A week, a year, ten years, fifty years, it doesn’t matter,” Ronan growled. “Time doesn’t matter when you’re spending your life with the person you love.”

Dad’s dark brows rose as he chuckled. “Quite poetic, Rohan?—”

“Ronan,” I corrected, barely holding in a groan. “You know his name, Dad.”

“Sorry. It was a slip-up.” He tapped my arm dismissively. “Anyway, I saw Daniel a few days ago. He looks great—he’s been working out a ton, so he’s quite muscular now.”

“Not as much as Ronan.” Vanessa laughed. “But he’s getting there. Do you work out much?”

“Most days,” Ronan gritted out.

“And do you work out with him?” she asked, turning her gaze to me. She flicked it over my body, lingering on my midsection.

I wasn’tbig, but it was obvious I didn’t work out. My thighs touched, and my stomach was soft—quite the opposite of her.But my body had always been the one thing I never loathed. There were other aspects of myself I couldn’t stand, but never my body.

“She doesn’t need to,” Ronan said, turning his attention toward me. “She’s perfect.”

“Yes, of course,” Lydia murmured, her words already slurring together. “But imagine how much better she’d look if she lost—what do you think, dear? Thirty pounds?”

“Enough,” Ronan snapped, pressing his hand on the table. “That’s enough.”

Everyone blinked at him. My heart was in my throat as I stared at the white tablecloth. Tension fell over the table, thick and uncomfortable.

It was too quiet, too silent. I didn’t know what to do, what to say to break it up. I cleared my throat, my mind racing to find something to do to shift the conversation back to safe territory.

“My house was broken into,” I blurted. Dad blinked.

“What?” Dad chuckled. “It was not.”

His words hit me like a fist to the stomach. I swallowed hard, the familiar burn of shame and disbelief rising in my throat. I should’ve expected it. I always did. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“It was,” Ronan said, his voice dark.

“Why?” Lydia asked, her confusion clear and real. “You have nothing. Why would anyone want to steal fromyou?”

My throat tightened. “I don’t know,” I rasped. “It was random, I think.”

“We’ve had a string of burglaries in town,” Ronan explained. “Willow was unfortunately a victim of that.”

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