Page 87 of Now Their Starlet

“There are points now?” Cameron laughs, following after me.

“Points? Points for what?” Beck says, glancing up at us from where he’s setting silverware out on the dining table.

“Andi just took away five points because I commented on how cute her laugh was,” Cameron says.

“Um, actually, that’s not what you said,” I rest a hand on my hip and roll my eyes. “If you’d said that then it would’ve been plus five points, but that’s not what you said, now is it?”

“Forgive me, I’m bad with words.”

“You’re literally an award-winning journalist. How can you be bad with words?”

“You know how many drafts my stuff goes through before it sees the light of day?”

“Well, then have more drafts in your head before you say stupid shit to me,” I giggle, leaning up and pressing a finger to his forehead.

He reaches up and grabs my hand, pulling it away from his face.

Oh, we’re holding hands.

My cheeks flush hot again. We were totally just flirting.

In front of everyone.

In front of my Dad.

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly, turning to face my dad, who’s setting up a bunch of takeout boxes on the kitchen island.

“No need to apologize, Andi,” he says with a fond smile. “I’m glad to see you so spirited.”

Okay, great, he’s not one of those dads who freaks the hell out when their daughters flirt in front of them. That’s good.

My stomach decides it’s a perfect time to growl again. Loudly.

“I bet you must be hungry,” Edison says, waving at the takeout boxes. “Please, have your pick. I actually ordered from a couple of different places. Beck mentioned how much you liked Italian and that he’d ordered you food from one place in particular, so I had some of that delivered, and I also got Chinese takeout from your favorite place growing up. I’m not sure if it’s still your favorite, but I hope you’ll give it a try.”

I stand frozen in place, blinking at my dad, whose busy hands still at my silence. He turns his gaze towards me, and I see my eyes reflected back at me. I’ve stared at myself in the mirror enough times to know what my eyes look like.

I know now exactly where I got my eyes from.

There’s something about how earnest he is in ensuring I’m getting food I will like—and I’m pretty sure I’d eat a boiled leather shoe over another tiny kale salad—that makes my ribcage crack open in my chest. I feel exposed, like a single speck of dust could fall into me through the gaping wound in my chest and travel through my bloodstream to my brain and kill me.

“Is everything alright, Andi?” Edison asks.

He sounds nervous.

Terrified even.

Is he really that afraid of disappointing me? He should know my standards for parenting are in the seventh circle of hell right now. He has nothing to worry about.

“I—I’m alright.”

“You’re crying, Sweet Tea,” Cameron murmurs from beside me.

“Am I?” I wipe frantically at my cheeks. “Shit, sorry, guys. I—I’m okay. I’m just... overwhelmed.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Edison asks, taking a hesitant step towards me, a hand outstretched like he’s afraid to touch me.

I take a few stumbling steps forward, bridging the gap between us and stumbling into his arms. He smells faintly of fresh mint. It’s soft and subtle, far milder than an alpha’s scent should be. I think this is the first real whiff of it I’ve gotten since reuniting with him as an adult.