The Fortunates (Unfortunate #2) - Skyla Madi Page 0,43

watching me. “I should hope so.”

Kade escorts me to an empty table in the last quadrant of the outdoor dining area. When we sit, curious stares begin to fade as people grow bored of us. I don’t know what they expect. Tension? Drama? Me to grow a third arm? All we want is breakfast. We’re not here to disturb anyone.

To be honest, I thought the ogling Fortunates would be the worst part about breakfast, but they don’t come close to the stomach turning presence of the Unfortunates. They bring fruit and juice. They load our table with toast and cereals, meats, and vegetables. They bring more food than Kade and I can eat in a whole month. More food than I’ve eaten in my entire life…and I’m finally allowed to taste it all if I really want to.

Sadly, I don’t.

I don’t want any of it. I can’t. How can I sit here and eat foods I’ve dreamed about tasting while someone else works on an empty stomach?

Without thought, Kade scoops berries into a small bowl and fills his champagne flute with icy water. I watch as the glass fogs and he lifts it to his full lips. The rim presses against his lower lip and he pauses. Our eyes lock. He lowers the glass.

“Eat.”

I shake my head and hug myself, dropping my elbows against the table. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“The people that served you this beautiful banquet had a disgusting, stale porridge for breakfast.”

“What do you want me to do?” he demands in a hushed whisper. “My hands are tied for the moment.”

I drop my stare to the table, willing my stomach not to shoot bile up my throat. Kade picks at food and fills a plate. He manoeuvres his arms and hands with irritation as if he’s choosing food for a fussy toddler. Exhaling, he slides the plate in front of me. There are slices of fruit and squares of pale cheese scattered around two small, thin pancakes.

“You’ll like these. Squeeze the lemon over your sugar covered pancakes, but be meagre with it. It’s sour.”

My stomach turns. “Kade…”

His exasperated expression smooths out, his eyebrows curving in surrender. “I’d appreciate it if you ate something. Please.”

His pleading eyes are hard to ignore. Placing my hands on either side of my plate, I exhale through my nose. I finally have all of this food at my fingertips and I don’t even want to taste it?

“Anna. It’s good to see you.” I leap out of my chair at the sound of John Milano’s voice and whirl on my heel.

He approaches our table from behind, wearing a plain black suit with matching leather shoes. My greeting is trapped in my throat. What do I say to him? How do I apologise for what happened to Kathryn? I thread my fingers together behind my back and glance at Kade, who sighs and pushes himself out of his chair, taking charge of the interaction.

I can’t talk to John. The words refuse to climb my throat.

“John.” Kade extends his hand. “Good morning.”

They shake hands and John peers out over the field, his light eyes scanning everything. He’s happier than I thought he’d be and he has definitely put some effort into his appearance. Thirteen and I didn’t really get along, but I was a mess after her death. My heart aches as my churning stomach contracts. Images of her beaten and broken, lying at Vince’s feet, assault my mind. That poor, beautiful girl. It should have been me.

“It is particularly serene this morning, isn’t it? It’s nice to finally get some fresh air.” John sighs, inhaling deeply. “I haven’t felt it in my lungs since Kathryn’s death.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Kade tells him, his voice even and, dare I say, compassionate.

“Thank you. It has been particularly hard on the children, but it’s for the greater good.”

I frown. The greater good? John turns his kind eyes on me and my frown dissipates. There’s something in his stare…something knowing. He smooths the palm of his hand over his slicked hair.

“That’s a lovely dress,” he says, leaning forward. “Kathryn had a similar one except hers came with a secret ribbon.”

My heart stutters. “Excuse me?”

“A secret ribbon,” he repeats with a confident nod of his head.

The Secret Ribbon. Surely he’s not referring to Oliver’s code name for our rebellion?

“You’re—”

“I hope you received the gift I sent this morning,” Kade cuts in, pinning us both with a warning glare.

I swallow hard and glance over my shoulder at the table of Fortunates