it. I am twenty-eight years old and I am putting my foot down. Get. Out.” Everyone climbs to their feet, staring at each other uneasily. They came here for a possibly violent confrontation, and then things just got weird, and now they can’t figure out what to do next.
Callie turns and glowers at Tyrell. “And you can’t tell anyone about this until we’re ready.”
“The biggest story in the history of Bitter End?” He looks appalled.
“Oh, it is not,” she scoffs. “Bitter End is a vortex of weirdness. I mean, Daisy’s father-in-law was hiding toxic waste in our swamp. And Savannah’s cousin hired an assassin to kill her.”
“I know, but that’s old news.” Tyrell’s lower lip juts out in a pout. “This is new news.”
“Here’s the thing,” I say to him. “Once this news gets out, it’s going to be the end of life as you know it for weeks. Probably months. Callie’s family and friends and neighbors and employees will be swarmed by press from all over the world. Let’s at least wait until after the Tricentennial is over, okay? I think everyone has enough on their plate.”
They glower and mutter amongst each other.
“This is the best gossip ever, and I can’t even tell Harper or Savannah,” Daisy groans. “So unfair.”
“One week,” I plead.
“Nobody will say anything,” Carole says, her voice ringing through the air with a note of command. She glances at Callie, her gaze steely. “I assume you will be home right after dinner. We have a lot to talk about.”
Callie glowers at her.
“She certainly will,” I say quickly.
They troop out of the barn, muttering amongst themselves and shooting dirty looks back at us.
Callie stares at me with huge, dazed eyes. “Oh my God. My heart is beating a million miles a minute. I stood up to Mama.”
“That’s nothing.” I shake my head and gesture at my outfit. “When I tell you about what I was wearing when your family showed up, you’re going to need a damn defibrillator.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Sebastian
We sprawl on the sofa in the barn-studio, the overhead fans ruffling our hair with blasts of warm air. “Tell me again,” Monica begs. “What went through your mind when you realized who was sitting at the dinner table?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Thank you for your sympathy in this darkest of times.”
“Darkest of times?” Parker scoffs. He glances at his wife. “He didn’t get laid last night, and now it’s a national tragedy.” Then he smiles smugly. “If it makes you feel any better, I did. Get laid last night, I mean.”
I kick him in the ankle. “Why would that make me feel any better? Frankly, you should have abstained from having sex out of sympathy to my plight.”
“There he goes again with the crazy talk,” Monica says to her husband.
“Certifiable.” Parker looks at me with pity. “I’m going to buy him a straitjacket for Christmas.”
Monica nods in agreement. “I’m going to find him a therapist for Hanukkah.”
“You guys should take your act on the road,” I say irritably. “A road that leads far, far away from me.”
After Callie and I hastily gulped down our dinner last night, I walked her back to her house, then returned to the hotel and met up with the band to update them on what had happened. I’d hoped for maybe a modicum of sympathy. A dollop. A smidge.
I forgot who I was dealing with.
Monica laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks. Parker howled with merriment until he got a stitch in his side. Even Magnus, who’s been in a sour mood recently, snickered quietly.
Everyone agreed, at least, that it was for the best that Callie’s nearest and dearest finally knew the truth. It gets me one step closer being able to make this relationship official.
I shift restlessly in my chair, glancing out the window. Clouds bunch in the sky, sliding over the sun and reflecting my mood. Last night everything felt full of promise. Today feels like an impending storm. This morning, our jam session was very mediocre. We just couldn’t focus. Magnus has been in a dark place lately, and I was distracted by my disaster of a dinner date last night.
When my phone rings, of course, it delivers more bad news. It’s the security guard stationed by the front gate. Russell’s out there, which is never a good thing.
“Thanks, you can just send him back here.” I sigh and glance at Magnus. “Do you want to go take a walk? I’ll deal with him.”
Magnus’s thick brows draw together.