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I’m feeling anxious. The vibe isn’t happy or positive. It’s feeling like a very stuffy occasion with a bunch of people who seem like they’re either unhappy to be here or faking that they’re not unhappy.
“So, how did you two meet?” Naomi asks me.
Derek answers, “I heard her voice in one of my clubs, watched her on camera all evening, and decided I had to have her. I had to make a few moves and maneuver her fiancé out of the way but now that’s done, so we’re getting married.”
Even the staff react this time. I stare at him with shock. I’m speechless. It seems that so is everyone else.
So, I won’t have to tell anyone else here what he’s done to me. I can tell by their expressions that Grace hasn’t spilled the beans. It’s as if Derek has pulled the rug out from under me.
“You’re… engaged?” Naomi asks, aghast.
“Not officially. The ex-fiancé is a paraplegic so there needs to be a suitable timeframe before our destination wedding for the sake of Chloe’s reputation. We’ll figure that out and let everyone know.”
All eyes are on me.
“Are you…serious?” Naomi gasps.
“When am I not serious, Nay?” Derek says calmly as plates are put down in front of everyone.
Each plate is identical. Salad is arranged in an impressive floral motif with the vegetables fanned out in flower petal shapes, the center circle a mini quiche. Salad greens make up the stem and leaves.
I’d be impressed under normal circumstances, take a picture, and declare it too pretty to eat before eating it.
“Mimosa? Ceasar? Juice? Coffee? Tea? Something else?” A server asks.
“Mimosa and a Caesar and a coffee,” Grace replies, throwing her napkin across her lap.
“Coffee,” Derek states.
I clear my throat. “Orange juice, please? Thank you very much.”
I feel all eyes on me still.
I unfold my red napkin and lay it across my lap.
“Can we back up to what Derek said?” Naomi asks.
Derek lifts the small quiche with his fingers and pops it into his mouth.
I take in everyone’s expressions. They all appear wowed. Except Derek’s father. He’s staring at Derek.
When my eyes land on Derek’s mother, she’s getting a new glass of orange juice. Or more likely a mimosa, based on what Derek and Grace said earlier today.
“Derek went after what he wanted,” Grace says. “Poor girl is shellshocked. He’s been pretty direct about it with me.”
My heart skips a beat. Is this my opening? Do I lay it all out here and ask for help?
Elijah and Asher exchange looks. Jonah looks like he’s assessing Derek. Naomi’s eyes are on me, and I see concern. Could she be a potential ally? I make a point of giving her a poignant look. Derek’s mother is sipping her drink, eyeing me with an expression I can’t translate. Nobody says anything, so I look back at Derek, who’s casually eating his salad.
“How are you doing?” Naomi asks me, concern etched into her features.
“Not so good, to be honest,” I state, my pulse racing. Hope lifting.
“When a Steele man knows what he wants, he knows,” Mr. Steele says, looking at his phone. “Gotta take this. Just a minute.” He steps away.
And I’m thrown. Because what?
“Michael swooped in and upended my life, too,” Mrs. Steele says, not making eye contact with me. “And look at me now.” She looks sour as she takes another sip.
