Page 43 of His to Keep
Nora tries to say something, but Scarlet bulldozes right past her attempt. “Thank you for such a lovely dinner, Nora. It was delicious, as always.”
“Do you want to bring your pie home?” Nora asks helplessly. “Or some leftovers?”
“Nope,” she clips, grabbing her plate and stomping into the kitchen to scrape it into the trash before rinsing it. “Y’all enjoy it.”
“Sure thing, Princess.” I scoff. God, sometimes it’s like I’m unable to help myself where she’s concerned. “We’ll all enjoy your store-bought pie.”
“Honestly, you can choke on it for all I care.” She opens the dishwasher and loads her plate into the bottom rack, not sparing me a single glance.
“You really don’t have to leave,” Nora pleads as she follows Scarlet through the kitchen toward the front door.
“No, it’s fine. I…” She sucks in a deep breath before continuing. “I think maybe I should sit out the next few dinners.”
Nora goes to argue, but Scarlet yanks her into a hug, shocking the hell out of me and effectively silencing any rebuttal she may have had. “Kiss James for me, okay? We’ll catch up soon.”
We all watch in silence as Scarlet leaves. The second the door closes behind her, Nora whirls on me, hands on hips and face as red as a tomato. “Ellis Andrew Wilder, you… you absolute…ass!”
“Oh, shit,” Atlas mutters, looking undeniably pleased. He loves fiery Nora. “You done fucked up.”
He’s right, too, because Nora just about never cusses. So, I know my earlier apology is out the window, and she’s good and mad at me.I fucking hate it.
Even worse, I know I only have myself to blame. But when Scarlet flashed me that deer-in-headlights look, I panicked. I knew she was going to come clean to them about her stalker being here, and that would’ve opened a can of worms neither of us wanted. Nora would’ve worried and Atlas would’ve gone full-on scorched earth.
“Nora, listen,” I start, racking my brain for any kind of reasonable defense, but any justification I can think of involves coming clean, which defeats the purpose.
“No!” She shouts. “I will not listen. I won’t pretend to understand the inner workings of y’all’s relationship. Y’all’s banter used to be entertaining, but lately, you’ve been downright cruel. I’m tired of it and I’m sure Scarlet is, too. No one deserves to be spoken to the way you do to her. She deserves better and I… I thought you were better. You… you need to figure out your issues, Ellis.”
“We don’t have a relationship.” My reply is lame, because holy shit, she may as well have stabbed me in the heart with those words.
“Ellis.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and leans into Atlas for comfort. “You’re testing me. You are both so,soimportant to me. I refuse to choose between the two of you. So, I mean it, figure out a way to get along with her or…”
“Or what?” I ask, my heart beating a hundred miles a minute.
“Or maybe you’ll be the one absent from family dinner.”
I rub at my chest as her words sink in. She’s dead-ass serious, and while everything I did tonight was to protect Scarlet, it blew up in my face and now I have to figure out a way to clean up the epic mess I’ve made. “Got it.”
FOURTEEN
SCARLET
“I need a night out,”I murmur to Fefe. “Especially after the bullshitfamilydinner at Nora’s last night.”
Fefe arches her back as she looks up at me before burrowing beneath my duvet.
“Yeah, yeah.” I glide my hand down her back, and she wiggles her butt. “I know you think I should stay home.”
A small part of me wants to, but a larger part of me feels like that’s letting all of the asshole men in my life win, which is something I refuse to do. I’m not going to stay home and sulk because Ellis Wilder hurt my feelings or cower because of some stalker. I will however be safe when I go out tonight. A two-drink limit, no drinks from strangers, pepper spray on my keyring, and I’ll share my location with either Cara or Nora.
With a renewed sense of determination, I slide out from under the covers and pad into the bathroom.
Fefe, the stage-five clinger that she is, is hot on my heels. She zooms around the bathroom a few times before grabbing a sock from my laundry basket and darting away to hide it one of her many stash spots.
“Little weirdo.” I can’t help but smile as I section up the top of my hair so I can curl it. Thanks to a decade or so of practice, I make quick work of styling my hair into long, effortless waves.
My makeup, on the other hand, takes up the bulk of my primping. I take my time… covering, contouring, and blending, until I look filtered—you know, minus the actual filter.
I’m sure Ellis would have something shitty to say about the whole process. It’s stupid, but I really thought we’d turned a corner. But last night, he was right back to being an a-hole supreme.
