The Professional Lover II (18+) | [Complete]

16 : Eating It

A/N: A scrub is a guy that thinks he's fly, and is also known as a "busta". Always talkin' about what he wants and just sits on his broke ass. So, no. 

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Elliot gives me a sly smile. His eyes scan me from head to toe. "You look good," he says in his usual, suggestive way. "Real good."

I glare at him. "Yeah, I know."

"Baby girl!" a woman calls to me. Oh, shit.

Mama Lorek comes running over to me and wraps me up in her arms. She's so small, coming only to my chin, even with me in flats. How she managed to create a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-something pound Remy, we'll go ahead and blame on her late husband -- may he rest in hell.

Daddy Lorek walks out behind her. "Maggie!" He's so much like Remy; tall, altruistic, buff -- everything except his appearance. The blonde military cut, mustache, and mismatched suit never change. He may be DEA, but he looks like a detective from an 80's sitcom.

"Hi, Mama. Daddy. What are you doing here?"

"Didn't Remy tell you?" Mama asks. "We're going to dinner for my birthday. You should come with us." Fucking fuck.

I glance back at Remy who is now crossing his arms and giving me an "I fucking warned you" cocked eyebrow. I hate it when he's right. "Oh, well ..." I try to think of an excuse. "You all look so nice. I just came from school."

"You look beautiful," Mama Lorek says with lovely Dominican pronunciation.

She smiles, and I melt. She's so precious with her mass of dark curls and the same gorgeous olive skin and hazel eyes as Remy. I love everything about her, she's a goddamn angel -- same as Daddy Lorek. Two widows finding love again, blending their families together, then ten years later taking in the abandoned teenager of a drug lord as if she was their own. I don't deserve them.

"Come with us. Please," Mama begs, and I know I can't refuse.

♡♡♡

We stand in the foyer of the 25th-floor restaurant and I feel completely out of place. My cotton sundress isn't quite cutting it with these full suits and cocktail dresses.

"Why did you have to pick a pretentious place?" I grumble quietly to Remy. "We could have just gone to the diner."

"Shut up," Remy snaps. He isn't happy about this situation either, but for a different reason. He's pissed because he'd prefer I never have to see Elliot again.

Elliot was my first, and he is still the only boyfriend I've ever had. I didn't leave him because he broke my heart or we grew apart like kids do. The truth is Elliot is a sociopath. I was fucked up before I left him -- finding out he cheated barely bothered me. Telling the whole school what fucked me up in the first place as a way to get back at me for leaving him is what fucked me up more. But he knew it would. That's why he did it.

I left home to get away from the rumors and coped in the only way I knew how. Remy found out, convinced me to move out here with him rather than slumming it on couches or in my backseat, and the rest is history. Now, we all pretend nothing happened and we're all fine, just as any good family does.

At least I think.

The host leads us to a table draped in a white tablecloth centered in the middle of the room. I manage to get seated between the step-brothers, the parents sitting across from me next to their respective child.

The waiter hands us all menus and takes our drink orders. I glance at the selections of French cuisine with lists of pretentious ingredients. Good lord, I'm already annoyed.