Page 29 of Vows We Never Made
“Besides,” she adds, “it’s not like we need to hang out that much, right?”
Ouch. Fuck.
Sure, I came in guns blazing, but the comment stings more than it should.
There are tons of women who’dleapat the chance to trade places with her.
The taste of that green sludge fills my mouth, and I swallow past the rush of saliva.
“This isn’t easy for anyone,” I say sharply. “I’m not exactly looking to marry right now. Also, I drank that shit your mom brought to keep the peace.”
So far, that’s been the worst part of this black fucking day.
Red dusts Hattie’s cheeks.
Weirdly charming, but I sweep the thought aside.
“Iamsorry about my mom,” she says, looking down. “I know that wasn’t—it couldn’t have been pleasant.”
“Or tasty,” Margot says gleefully. “I tried one of her turmeric concoctions once and I came so close to barfing. But I think it cured years of inflammation.”
“Thank you, Margot.” I snort.
As it happens, I also nearly threw up.
Probably would’ve, too, if this day hadn’t given me a lot of practice with holding it in.
But fuck, if I go three more lifetimes without having to taste that shit again, it won’t be long enough.
“This is incredible,” Margot says cheerfully. “I can practically feel the awkwardness in the air. Is your entire marriage going to be like this?”
I barely spare her a withering glance.
“Our marriage will be as painless as I can make it.”
“Our marriage will have a lot of ghosting,” Hattie says, apparently regaining her calm. She tucks her hair behind her ear and sips her water. “Right, Ethan?”
“Yes.” I unclench my jaw and stop myself from grinding my teeth.
“Once you learn to manage him, he’ll be just fine,” Margot whispers in Hattie’s ear, and although Hattie doesn’t giggle, she bites her lip like she’s hiding a smile.
Wrong time and place.
For one, I need to speak to Hattie without my little sister raising hell.
That might be her top talent, but I don’t have the time or energy to deal with it, or her, right now.
“We should sit down and discuss the terms of the agreement,” I say, ignoring the way Margot rolls her eyes.
What now?
Has she regressed back to teenage smartass when I wasn’t looking? Or did she ever grow up at all?
I haven’t spent enough time with her lately to know.
This is a business arrangement, dammit.
I’m going to treat it like one.
