Page 47 of Special Delivery

Paige’s pupils widen as she notices me, but she only gives me a stiff smile.

“Want some wine?” Emma offers the wine cooler.

“Sure, thank you.” I pour myself a glass, offering to refill Paige’s.

She shakes her head softly. “No, thank you.”

We order our meals and Mom raises her glass in the air. “To an amazing vacation.”

Roger does the same. “And to many, many more just like this.”

The rest of us follow, raising our glasses before we take a sip of the perfectly chilled wine. Roger would fit right in with the crew at my previous job. He speaks their language—money. But he also doesn’t seem consumed by it. During this entire week, he had only one work call, and I never once seen him answering emails. He must work hard, considering how successful he is, but he obviously found a good work-life balance, which is something I wholeheartedly admire.

Emma chats with my mom, and I attempt to catch Paige’s attention, locking eyes. She avoids me like the plague, glancing everywhere but at me. A ripple stirs in my chest. It might be childish, but I love the effect I have on her. With my lips resisting a smirk, I shoot her a quick, imperceptible wink.

Even though she isn’t looking at me, I see the sharp intake of breath and the way her fist clenches around her glass. Risking it all, she levels me with an icy glare before turning her attention to the conversation. Instead of chilling me to the bone, her irritation heats up my insides, sending fire through my stomach. When my smile becomes impossible to hold off, the server appears with our plates.

Finally having something to focus on, Paige locks in on the lobster on her plate, studying it with rapt attention. I suppress a chuckle and cut into the juicy meat on mine. Even Emma is quiet while we eat. The squeak of knives cutting through food and the occasional comment about how delicious the meal is are the only sounds leaving our tables.

I’m almost done with my steak when Jordan interrupts our silence. “It’s so nice to get away from reality for a while. It’s like the real world doesn’t even exist anymore. Until we get back…” She lets out a dry chuckle. “Then you’re hit right in the face with all the everyday shit. Like the dishes never being done, and socks all over the floor. Kim, do you know Dad physically can’t put his dirty socks in the hamper? It’s medical mystery, but he’s incapable of it.”

My fingers wrap around the glass tightly. It was said as a joke, but the undertone is clear. Instead of telling her to mind her own goddamn business, Mom’s face transforms into a grin.

“I know, right? The fact that there’s no cure for it is absolutely tragic. But you know how it goes—in sickness and in health.” Her palm wraps around Roger’s, shutting Jordan up.

Atta girl, Mom.

As I glance at my tablemate, I notice I’m not the only one on pins and needles. Paige’s jaw is clammed shut, her discomfort visible.

Emma breaks the tension. “Still, traveling full-time wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Having someone else take care of the metaphorical dirty socks.”

“No, that certainly wouldn’t be bad,” Mom says with a chuckle.

“You know, it was Paige’s dream once upon a time,” Roger tells Mom. “She wanted to travel full-time and write about the places she visited.”

Paige’s fingers find a napkin and make it their mission to destroy it.

“Really? That sounds so interesting. How come you aren’t doing it right now?”

“Yeah, Paige. How come you gave up on your dream of traveling?” I add, tipping the wine into my mouth.

Paige stares daggers at me before turning to my mom. “I just… it’s not something I want to do anymore.”

“Come on, Paige. You can do better than that,” Jordan comments. “We’re all family here, right?”

Like always, a shudder passes through me at the mention of Paige being my family.

“I simply have other interests now.” Paige’s smile is still and uncomfortable.

I want to hear more. I want to know why she doesn’t want to travel anymore, like I want to know every other detail about her.

“Yeah, your interests are acting like an eighty-year-old. No offense, Dad,” Jordan adds.

“I’m nowhere near eighty,” Roger mutters to himself.

Paige turns to my mom, giving her a shaky smile. “Like I said, it’s simply not something I want anymore.” She takes a deep, fortifying breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t feel so well. I think it’s best I go sleep it off so I don’t get sick on our trip back tomorrow.” She rolls her lips, drops the maimed napkin onto the table, and gets up.

“Jordan…” Emma murmurs, shaking her head.