Page 30 of Making It While Faking It
If the air wasn’t already jam-packed with tension, I’d call bullshit on Lynx’s team meeting. This is the start of Lynx and Max’s customary escape. They will leave, one after the other, and then head back to the city, where they’ll hang out in one of many high-end private clubs. I’m on the verge of calling bullshit on them anyway since I feel so much like crap, and why not join in the general spirit of the night? But Achilles walking—no, floating—into the dining room steals my full attention.
As Achilles takes his seat beside me, Max, right on cue, says, “I’m leaving too.”
Like Lynx, he kisses Grandmother goodbye while ignoring Hugo. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Dad,” he says, and then he’s out of the room before Grandmother can object. Normally, she would try to guilt him into staying. But I think tonight, Grandmother is taking Max’s congratulations and him not blowing up like Leo had as a win.
“Are you okay?” Achilles asks.
I stop rubbing my aching temples to look at him. “What?” I ask, barely able to keep my eyes open. I’m going downhill fast. Funny, Achilles seems to be the only one who notices my demise.
“Treasure, I want to talk to you,” Orion whispers.
I’m shaking my head before the words “go to hell” can blurt out of my mouth.
“Hugo, exactly how long have you been…” I catch my dad glancing at me, as if my presence is making him reconsider what he’s going to ask. “How long have you been in a relationship with my mother?”
I don’t even mask my impatient grunt. I feel as if I should say something to make this night advance faster. I don’t know how much longer I can sit in this chair.
“Well, it’s not like Grandmother and Grandfather had an award-winning relationship, Dad,” I say, surprising even myself.
Leo flicks his attention on me. But there’s an unfocused look in his eyes. It’s as though his despair hadn’t allowed him to absorb a word I just said.
“She has a point,” I’m so thankful to hear Heart say. “Charles and Leslie never lived with each other. I know I never fooled myself into believing they actually loved each other.”
“But Charles and I did love each other,” Grandmother interjects. “In our own way, we did. It wasn’t romantic love. It was…” A solemn mask falls over Grandmother’s face.
The silence waits to be absorbed by whatever Grandmother will say, but she doesn’t say anything.
“How about we get through this dinner for the sake of…” Heart’s words stop cold turkey.
I, on the other hand, gradually swallow another bout of nausea. I swear I can’t do this for another five minutes. I’ll have to excuse myself shortly.
“Family,” Hugo says to cover the silence. “For the sake of our families getting along for once.”
Now it’s Xan who lets out an uncustomary scoff. “If you want our families to get along, then call off your hounds. Let TRANSPOT go.”
Hugo holds his hands out with his palms facing Xan. “I’m not linked to the business anymore.”
“Is that your cop-out?” Xan retorts.
“Hey! Watch how you speak to my grandfather, Xander,” Achilles blares.
Oh gosh. I don’t want to love how he stepped in to defend his grandfather’s honor, but I do. Orion didn’t say a word. Just like I knew he wouldn’t, because he only thinks about himself—no, his cock—he only thinks about his cock, first and last.
“I was thinking, ladies,” Grandmother says as her eyes shift from my mom’s face to Heart’s and then to Marigold’s. “How about we do something together?”
Grandmother mentions a collaborative fundraiser between the Grove Philanthropic Foundation and the Lord Charitable Foundation. At least the women have picked up their eating utensils and have started to dig into tonight’s dinner before it gets too cold. I think they like the sound of throwing a charity event together. My mom and Heart live for them. It’s the only time when they actually come together and behave like real sisters-in-law.
“I like it,” Londyn says. “Marigold, I would love to finally work in conjunction with TLCO. You all do tremendous work.”
“Mother, how long?” Leo’s angry roar seems to rise from the grave to haunt the room.
But it’s not my dad’s angry voice that sends chills up and down my skin. And whatever I have left in my stomach is in my throat, especially now that a server has placed a plate of piping-hot, fragrant food in front of me.
“Treasure?” Achilles whispers, his voice full of concern.
“No,” I groan. “I’m not feeling well.” My eyes are closed, and I’m concentrating extremely hard on keeping the little I have in my stomach from going blah all over the twin short ribs on my plate.
Then my dad announces that maybe we should leave since I don’t look so well. Finally, he’s noticed.
