The things we never had

Chapter 25

We went back upstairs to the kitchen, where everyone else was already starting to dish up. As I looked at the table, a wave of nausea swept over me. There was so much food—just the sight of it made my stomach churn. I swallowed hard, focusing my gaze on the floor to avoid looking directly at it until my turn came to serve myself.

When it was finally my turn, I scanned the options. It was an overwhelming spread, with just about everything you could imagine. I chose the simplest thing I could handle—a small serving of plain pasta and a glass of water. Quietly, I made my way outside to the patio and sat down in an empty chair, joining the half of the group who had already served themselves. I glanced down at my plate. Compared to everyone else's heaping portions, my small serving looked out of place. But this was honestly a stretch for me; if I could have my way, I wouldn't be eating at all. I knew, though, that skipping another meal would raise questions I didn't want to answer.

Christian, sitting across from me, noticed my plate and furrowed his brows slightly, but thankfully, he didn't say anything. A few minutes later, we were still waiting for Rome to sit down so we could all eat together. He finally came out, his plate piled high with food. I almost bolted out of my chair, feeling a fresh wave of nausea, but I managed to keep my reaction in check. Rome glanced at my plate, and for once, he held his tongue. Small mercies, I thought.

Charlotte, seated at the head of the table, announced, "Let's say grace." I leaned over to Grey, who was seated beside me, and whispered, "Wait, we're religious?"

He whispered back, "Yeah, Catholic. But we don't actually say grace much."

"Hm," I murmured, just as Charlotte ended the prayer. I muttered "Amen" along with everyone else, even though I didn't mean it.

Everyone started to eat, casual conversations breaking out around the table. I poked at my pasta, not really wanting to touch it. The atmosphere was almost relaxed until Rome broke the peace, his voice dripping with a mock concern. "Sophia, aren't you going to eat? You didn't eat before, and that plate isn't exactly... full."

I glanced up, irritation flaring. "I didn't realize you were the food police, Rome."

He smirked and shot back, "Oh, so I'm in the wrong for actually eating? Is that it?"

My patience snapped. "I never said that, so stop twisting my words."

"Oooh," he replied, sarcasm oozing, "the princess has claws."

"Shut the fuck up, Italy," I snarled, barely finishing the sentence before a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"Enough!" Alex's voice boomed from the other end of the table. "Both of you, to my office. Now."

I got up from my chair as Rome did the same, but I waited a few seconds before heading upstairs, not wanting to walk with him. As I made my way up to the third floor, I felt an uneasy sense of unfamiliarity. I'd only been up here twice—once during an emotional escape and another time on the tour—and I still wasn't entirely comfortable or confident in finding my way around. Fortunately and unfortunately, Rome was already ahead of me, so I just followed his lead. Within a couple of minutes, I was standing outside Alex's office. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and pushed open the door, walking in to find Rome already seated. The only available chair was right beside him. Reluctantly, I sat down.

Alex was standing in front of his desk, his hands running through his hair as he gathered himself. I could see frustration etched into his features; he looked exhausted, like he was entirely fed up with the situation. When he finally spoke, his voice was firm, filled with restrained anger.

"What is wrong with you, Rome?" Alex started, his tone low but scathing. "You know better than to make comments about people's food—especially in public and especially with guests. And yet, not only do you do it, but you twist it into some warped victimhood narrative to make yourself feel better. You've been practically begging for your sister to come back, and now, instead of showing any kindness, you insult her every chance you get. I've let it slide, assuming you were adjusting to everything. But this? This is too much. Way too far. Do you hear me?"