Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Everyone can see every part of you,” Mom continues, shaking her head.
“Do you think I wanted this?” I ask, whispering at her through gritted teeth. “This is what Dawson wanted me to wear. I don’t even want to be here.”
Mom rolls her eyes and scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “Why would anyone want to see you in that?”
Dawson is still close to us, and I’m not sure what all he can hear. I don’t know why I would expect him to come to my rescue at this point. He’s made it damn clear that he wants me to be as miserable as possible. So my mom berating me for my body in public is no doubt a pro in his book.
Henry and Dawson walk back over and Henry wraps his arms around my mom’s shoulders. She plasters a fake smile back on her face, which does not go unnoticed by Dawson.
“I’m surprised to see both of you here,” Henry says with a grin. “I have a table reserved in the dining room. I’d love it if the two of you would join us. It’ll be our first real family meal.”
“That sounds lovely,” Dawson says, following Henry and my mom into the dining room.
We go to the second floor, which overlooks the entire garden and pool area, and head into the members-only executive lounge. A few other guests are here with plates of steaming steak and salmon. Some other people sit at the bar chatting with each other, turning to look at the four of us as we walk in.
We’re seated at a booth toward the back of the room. Henry and Dawson let my mother and me slide into the booth first, taking the outside for themselves. Four menus are handed out to us, and I’m excited for a real meal. It smells delicious here, and my mouth waters, looking at the descriptions on the menu.
We chat back and forth about what sounds good, and Henry gives some recommendations, knowing this is my first time. A server comes and takes everyone’s orders. Henry orders first, getting a ribeye steak with some sweet potato and harissa on the side. Dawson goes next, ordering a New York strip with chimichurri sauce and a side of greens.
When it’s my mom’s turn to order, she gets the same thing she orders at virtually every restaurant, grilled chicken with a side salad. The server turns to me, and I’m planning on ordering a blackened salmon with a side of fries, but before I can open my mouth, my mom chimes in.
“She’ll just have a small garden salad with a lemon wedge on the side, no dressing,” she says, smiling at the server.
My face is hot, and I see the server looking at me for confirmation, but I’m too embarrassed to say otherwise. I just nod and hand the menu back to him.
I hope that nobody else notices, and we can all move past it without them commenting. But of course, Dawson is smiling at the exchange, only making it that much worse. He doesn’t say a word, but I know he finds it amusing.
Looks like he’s not the only one torturing me.
Everyone else makes small talk while we wait for our food to arrive, and all I can focus on is how embarrassed I am. I just nod and laugh when everyone else does, hoping it looks like I’m invested.
The food finally comes, and everyone else gets beautiful steaming portions of protein and carbs, while I’m left with lettuce and a lemon.
I eat it slowly, not wanting it to look like too small of a portion, even though it’s virtually nothing. Even trying to eat like a tortoise, I finish my small salad and lemon wedge before anyone else can even eat a quarter of theirs.
Once again, Dawson notices this. He pushes his plate toward me and gestures to it with his fork. My mom eyes me suspiciously as she waits for me to politely decline the food. I feel like this is some kind of a trap from Dawson, and I want to decline, but I am so hungry.
“Would you like some of this, Harper?” Dawson politely asks, playing up the kind, caring stepbrother act. “A woman who works for a living needs to eat more than just a plain salad. But Diana wouldn’t understand that because she doesn’t work.”
My mom laughs it off, looking at Henry with a pathetic need for belonging in her eyes. Henry isn’t as amused as Dawson or me. I can hear the insult as clear as day, even if my mom is choosing to be blind to it.
For the first time since being here, I feel a sense of excitement. Someone is on my side for once. I never would have thought it would be Dawson of all people, if I’m being honest.