As Xander began to sit beside me at the dining table, Jameson placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sitting there."
"Doesn't look like it," Xander replied, sitting down with a grin. Beneath the table, he interlocked our thumbs while our opposite ring fingers met at the other's carpals — his version of a secret handshake.
Rolling his eyes, Jameson settled for the chair on the opposite side of me. I figured he would've chosen the head of the table, had we not placed Skye and Zara on either ends.
Both of them were looking anywhere but each other. Jameson had, unfortunately, chosen the chair right next to his mother.
"Jamie," she crooned.
"Save it," he muttered, moving as close as he could to me. Beneath the table, Jameson's hand slid to my thigh. My dress had conveniently ridden up to ensure his fingers were against skin rather than silk.
Skye sighed in a singsong way. Her lips parted, as if she were about to try again, but three new figures appeared in the dining room before she could.
His head held low, Grayson took a chair beside Zara, who had yet to say a word. There were two chairs remaining, and one couple to occupy them.
Nash pulled out a chair for Libby, whose lips were smiling and cheeks were flushed.
When they were seated, the silence was palpable.
I knew this had been a bad idea.
But Alisa had insisted. She'd helped prepare the dinner, along with Oren, all the while providing me with conversation starters that I doubted I would use.
After we had all sat down, doused in an awkward silence, Alisa appeared, carrying two trays. The way she balanced them had me wondering if she'd once been a waitress.
Although I might've been imagining it, Alisa seemed to gravitate toward Nash. She placed the food on the table, perfectly spaced apart, and clapped her hands. "How is everyone?"
"Worse now," Nash drawled.
Beside him, Libby bit back a smile.
Alisa shot him a look. "I wasn't talking to you."
"I believe you asked about everyone, Lee-Lee." He turned toward Libby. "Didn't she?"
"She did," Libby agreed, her gaze centered on Nash's ex-girlfriend.
Annoyed, I said, "I'm sure everyone is fine."
Alisa spared me a look. Surely she was disappointed with how little I was talking. But I hadn't signed up for this.
I knew that somehow, she would find a way to monetize this. And I hated it. I knew family relationships couldn't be mended for the sake of charities and money.
And I doubted anything pleasant would be uttered tonight. There were too many people here that despised one another. Even my lawyer, who pretended to have everything together, had found an enemy in my sister.
Say what she might, I knew she was still hung up on Nash.
He was a Hawthorne after all.
Zara remained quiet for the remainder of the meal, but for a few clipped comments. Skye didn't meet her eyes except to roll them at her sister.
I was going to throttle Alisa for letting this dinner actually happen.
Hardly any of us ate.
Throughout the course of an awkwardly silent meal, Jameson was touching my thigh, moving his hand up and down. He didn't say anything to me or his mother.
But Skye kept trying.
When she said, "Jamie," he turned away.
After saying "Gray," the blond boy stood up, pushed in his chair, and left.
Xander was the only son who responded to her. And even then, he didn't look happy. But none of us did.
Libby and Nash left soon after, leaving me with two Hawthorne boys and two fuming sisters.
I got to my feet, startling everyone, and marched out the door with an intention to strangle Alisa.
She was standing outside the dining hall, staring at my sister and Nash as they disappeared up one of the many stairways.
"Still heartbroken?" I said, my voice clipped.
She turned on me. "What's your problem?"
"The one you gave me." I jerked my thumb toward the dining hall. "If you don't separate them, they might all kill one another."
"You're being dramatic."
If I had been living a normal life, I might've agreed. But I wasn't. And I knew that anyone who had descended from Tobias Hawthorne was capable of quite literally any form of murder.
"I'm not," I told her.
"We would get so much more attention if the sisters reunited —"
"Who cares?" I threw my arms up. "I'm already a billionaire. I live in a mansion. I have enough money for twenty lifetimes. Why is it that everything has to be about money?"
"Because you were gifted this life. This is how we live it."
I was so frustrated that tears began gathering in my eyes. At the same time, my fingers curled into fists. Before I could respond — or possibly punch her — the doors to the dining room opened and Jameson appeared.
"Whoa, heiress." He took me by the shoulders, as if sensing that violence was in my playbook.
"You need to separate Zara and Skye," I told Alisa. "Now."
Thankfully, Jameson took my side. "Yeah. I think silverware is about to be thrown — and I'd prefer that Xander stay intact."
Growling at the both of us, Alisa disappeared into the dining hall. Moments later, shouts erupted, and I couldn't help but think it was completely her fault.
Grinning, Jameson uncurled my fists. "Fed up?"
"With her. And everyone else."
"Me included?"
I thought about it. "No."
"Good." Jameson kissed me hard. It was a good thing I wasn't pressed against the door, because shortly thereafter Xander escaped the dining hall. He snuck behind Jameson, giving me two thumbs up, and skipped up the stairway to the solace of his bedroom.
I smiled against Jameson's lips, unsure which boy had caused it.
"You know," Jameson said, pulling back a couple inches, "my mom was miserable, sitting next to us."
"Why?" I asked the column of his throat.
"Because she has four failed relationships," he said, kissing me again, "and we have one successful relationship."
