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I blink a few times in surprise. Surely not the same way as Derek swooped in with me. Right? I’m not sure I should ask. Being swept off your feet is one thing. Being blackmailed is quite another.
“Well, I for one, am happy for Derek and Chloe. I’ve never seen Derek this happy. You guys will see. Cheers to Chloe.” She lifts her glass. Everyone else does the same and they all drink. I don’t. I stare at Naomi and hope she sees that I need help.
Because no. Don’t drink to me. Do they understand the gravity here?
“So Nay, no Josh?” Grace continues, doing it loudly, obviously looking to change the subject by engaging her sister in conversation.
“He’s still in surgery, I think. This one is a long one,” Naomi tells her, then has a bite of salad.
I swallow down a lump of stress as I survey the table unhappy that Grace has distracted Naomi who is no longer focused on me and my wellbeing.
Asher and Jonah are whispering something to one another and I’m wondering if it’s about Derek. About rescuing me.
I see Ash snicker before he covers his mouth to say something to Eli, who scoffs. Okay, not likely they’re trying to figure out how to help me. And whatever they’re talking about, the way they’re doing it is awfully rude.
This certainly doesn’t feel like a happy family occasion.
A few moments later, Derek’s father returns with an apology and five seconds after that, my untouched salad is whisked away and replaced with salmon benedict on beautiful red plates with gold rims. And it’s presented just as prettily as the last course.
Derek immediately digs in, as does Jonah. Grace looks at the plate, curls her lip, and then sips her mimosa. Naomi sips her Caesar. Their mother is sipping from her glass, too.
Elijah is drumming his fingers. Jonah’s now tapping away on his phone. If I’m not mistaken, Ash has been waiting for my eyes to hit him so he can try eye-fucking me.
Seeing the expression on his face, I look away, but my eyes catch Derek’s jaw flexing. It seems Derek noticed the same moment as I did because he rips his sunglasses off, leans forward, and growls, “Get your own,” before he grabs the leg of my chair and pulls, making a terrible noise as it’s dragged a few inches, so I’m plastered to his side.
His arm wraps around me.
“Holy cow,” I mutter, aghast.
Asher throws his head back and laughs. “Afraid I’ll steal her?”
“I’ve already stolen her. Get your own, Ash.”
“Maybe I’ll steal yours.” He shrugs. “She doesn’t look too happy to be here with you.”
Derek throws his head back and laughs before he says, “Try it. I dare you.”
“He laughs now, too?” Naomi asks.
“Right?” Grace pipes up.
“Enough,” Mr. Steele snaps.
Derek leans forward aggressively. “Don’t want to ruin your brunch, Mom, by smashing your youngest son’s face off the table and breaking his nose, but he’s on notice.”
“Please, son,” Mr. Steele orders. “I have something to tell everyone.”
Derek leans back in his seat, but his jaw keeps flexing. Asher’s expression reads like he thinks it’s hilarious.
The server who brought my last drink comes again with a tray of drinks.
“You ready to switch to mimosas?” Grace whispers to me.
Mr. Steele says, “Let’s get drinks and then I’ll tell you all what I have to share.”
“Don’t look so worried, Chloe,” Grace advises, “Ash’s favorite pastime is to wind people up. He likes to make Mom and Dad have booze for breakfast.”
Ash snorts.
