Page 89 of Fairy Tale Lies
Jacob remembered from his only other time in the Silverstone house they had a smaller six-person table in the kitchen. So, why were the five of them having lunch in this enormous room?
Nigel rose from his seat, eyeing Jacob with distaste, giving him his answer. Greta’s parents wanted to remind him he was out of his league. That he didn’t belong.
He shot a quick glance at Greta.
Back here, in her parents’ home, surrounded by the over-the-top wealth, did she see him the same way? As some vulgar gatecrasher.
Nigel extended his hand, offering a perfunctory handshake. “Are you aware the country club requires formal wear?”
Seriously? It’s ten in the morning.
The way his gaze was boring into the open collar of Jacob’s white button-down, he figured some of his ink was exposed. He didn’t give a shit. In fact, part of him enjoyed giving Nigel a reason for his loathing.
The uptight, snobbish asshole.
Plus, no matter how much Greta loved the suit, it was more a straitjacket to him. He’d left the vest, bowtie, and coat in the truck.
“Are you aware we’re not at the country club?” Jacob replied back just as snidely, though it wouldn’t have surprised him if Nigel slept in a suit. “I left it in my truck. I’ll put it on before we leave.”
“I wanted to make sure,” Nigel huffed. “I am assuming this is your first visit to a country club.”
“You know what they say about assuming…makes an ass--”
“Excuse us for our late arrival,” Greta cut-in. “How are you both?”
Jacob swallowed his anger. Why was Nigel able to talk shit to him but he had to keep his mouth shut?
“We’re fine,” Sophia answered, rising. “Although, I was starting to worry. This is unlike you. To be late, making us worry and wait.” She offered her cheek to Greta and a limp hand to Jacob.
The dig was for him. Sophia believed he was a bad influence, corrupting her perfect daughter.
Greta wanted to believe they invited him to their home and precious country club because they finally accepted him. He knew the truth. Today’s charade was to prove how much he didn’t belong. Guess he should be thankful Sophia hadn’t invited another “more suitable” guy to lunch with them.
Jacob took a deep breath, pinching the area between his eyes with a thumb and index finger.It’s one day.
He held Greta’s chair and studied her expression. She was used to her parents’ crap. She nodded thanks in his direction while apologizing to her parents, asking if she and Jacob should skip lunch and get ready for the party.
“We will manage.” Nigel gave a long-suffering sigh. “If you don’t mind rushing a bit.”
Rushing?
They had hours, and Greta was dressed and ready. It’d take him all of five minutes to put on the rest of his suit. Though, he suspected the next couple of hours were going to feel like years, no, decades.
He was tempted to tell them he’d be happy to go back home with Greta. It bothered him the way she faded and diminished in their presence.
Not for the first time, he wondered if her parents would win their little game. Too much time around them, Greta’s love for him was bound to diminish. They’d chip away at the things she loved about him until nothing was left but dissatisfaction and resentment.
Hell, they hadn’t been in the Silverstone house for more than a half hour, and Greta was already kowtowing to her parents, and he was nearly boiling with resentment. Jacob wasn’t sure he could handle a whole day of this passive-aggressive bullshit, let alone a lifetime of it.
After taking their seats, he leaned toward Greta and, hoping to lighten the mood, whispered, “I feel like I’m fifteen again. Are we going to get grounded?”
Greta smothered a laugh, her eyes glittering with merriment. It reduced some of his anger, allowing him to believe they were in this together.
“Knowing them, they’d probably try,” she mouthed back.
“You better hope not because, under pressure, I might crack and tell them why we’re late. And who started it.”
Greta’s jaw dropped in mock horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”
