Page 62 of Kyle
"Curry chicken and white rice is the special today. We're featuring Jamaica today. And our sorrel is to die for. Lots of rum--" She stopped when Ingrid shook her head.
"No alcohol for me."
The woman's eyes widened, and her smile spread. "Oh honey. You have a bun in the oven."
"Shh. We're not telling people yet."
Cherry mimed zipping her lips. "Ah, here comes the ice princess."
"Cherry."
"I promise to be on my best behavior." She drifted away as Jessica came forward.
The sneer on her face was evident as she took her seat. "Is the food any good?"
Tamping down the irritation and reminding herself that she was here to mend fences, Ingrid smiled. "The best. Hope you like spicy."
Jessica flicked a wrist vaguely.
They were served water and corn chips that were so crispy and delicious, Ingrid found herself gorging. "God, I probably won't do justice to the meal."
"Should you be eating that much?" Jessica had barely taken two pieces.
Ingrid's brows lifted. "Why? Because I'm not a size six?"
The woman had the grace to blush, the color giving her pale skin a glow.
"I didn't mean--"
"Yes, you did." Picking up her glass, Ingrid took a sip. She waited until the waiter brought their food and gave her a flirtatious smile.
"I went to school with girls like you." She gestured to the steaming meal. The curried chicken nestled on a dazzling bed of white rice and a curl of red pepper on the top as garnish.
"Dig in. Like I was saying, I went to school with girls like you. Bitches who were insecure enough to be afraid of girls like me. They did not like different and I was different, always have been." She dug in and felt the spice passing down her throat.
"I dealt with them and now--" She shrugged. "I can honestly tell you that the person I am, what I look like, does not bother me. I'm beautiful the way I am, and I have a husband who adores me." Her dimples peeked.
"But I'm also human enough to post some pics on Facebook. Especially the ones where we were touring Europe. I bet it just burned their collective asses." She waved her fork.
"Anyway, that's not important." She studied Jessica's pale face, the unhappiness so deeply etched, it created lines. "You don't deserve to be unhappy. It's not your fault you cannot have children and that lousy husband of yours made your life a living hell."
"What do you know?" The color rose up again, eyes flashing. "I've seen the way my brother looks at you--" Picking up her glass, she gulped water.
Her eyes were burning. "I have to spend every day of my life, knowing that I cannot bear a child. That my husband cheated on me over and over again." She blinked fiercely.
"And now he's gone."
"Happy riddance to extremely bad rubbish." Ingrid met the stormy gaze squarely. "I'm not going to apologize for being honest. He's not worthy of you. You're beautiful and intelligent.
You sit in the background and allow your grandfather to control your life. He chose that piece of crap for you. Yes, he pushed me and Kyle together and for that I owe the interfering bastard a kiss or two.
If you want a child, adopt one. There are millions out there who would love a home. And you need to start dating or not. My point is you have your whole life ahead of you.
You're not a victim. Get up, dust yourself off and show that piece of crap that you're a survivor. Before your brother, I wasn't interested in a relationship.
I'd had it with men who either treated me like a novelty or were intimidated by who I am and what I represented." She eyed the pastel wool suit the woman was wearing critically.
"What you need is a makeover and I know just the person. You have gorgeous hair and skin, pinning your hair back into a bun makes you look like a librarian."
