“Best man I ever knew,” Callum says thickly.
“Not very good at managing his money, though,” Dinah remarks. Her green eyes narrow at me for a moment. “Do you take after your mother or father, Ella?”
“My mother,” I answer tersely, but how the hell would I know?
“Of course you have to say that,” she muses. “After all, Steve didn’t know about you. You literally did not exist for him for most of your life.”
Nice, subtle jab there, Dinah. But you know what? I grew up around catty women who were constantly afraid that their one asset—their looks—was quickly fading. I can take whatever she dishes out.
I smile. “He came around. I mean, he did leave me everything he could.”
And he would have left me more if you didn’t have a boatload of lawyers making sure every loose penny fell into your purse.
Her answering smile is full of teeth. “I was thinking about you the other day.” Please, don’t. “And how much alike we are. My mother wasn’t well when I was young, and we moved around as much as you did. She made poor life decisions. There were often…” She pauses and takes a sip of her drink.
Against all of our wills, we’re listening to her every word, and she clearly revels in the attention.
“Often people that drifted in and out of my life that weren’t always the best sort of influence. Sometimes these men wanted things from me that a child should never be asked to give.”
Dinah looks at me expectantly. I guess she’s like one of those old-timey Southern preachers who need affirmation to make sure their message is getting through.
“That’s too bad,” I mutter.
She’s right, though. Her story is similar to my own past. But I refuse to feel sorry for her. Her life is a far cry from that now.
“It is, isn’t it?” She dabs the side of her mouth with a napkin. “I’d love to give you some advice, from one lost girl to another. You don’t need to wait for what you want in life, because if you do, you’ll end up like our mothers—used and, ultimately, dead. And I’m sure you don’t want that, do you, Ella?”
Callum sets his fork against the table with more force than necessary. “I don’t think this is appropriate dinner conversation.”
Dinah waves a dismissive hand. “It’s girl talk, Callum. I’m giving Ella some of my hard-won wisdom.”
And warning me that she’s going to try to take everything Steve left me.
“Is this the plot of some Lifetime movie?” Easton interjects before I can respond. “Because I blocked that channel on my TV.”
“Samesy,” Sawyer says. “Where’s the dessert?”
“Well, if we’re bored of my life story and Ella’s, how about we talk about you boys? I know Easton and the twins like to play the field. What about you two? Reed? Gideon? Are you boys seeing anyone special or breaking hearts like your little brothers?” She gives a teasing laugh. Nobody else joins in.
“We’re both single,” Gideon grinds out.
That gets Brooke’s attention. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, shooting me an impish look as the wait staff carts out our desserts. “And you, Ella? Found that special someone yet?”
Callum is eyeing me too now. It figures this would be the moment he decides to take his drunken face out of his wine bottle.
I lower my head to my dessert as if the tiramisu on my plate is the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
There’s another lull in the conversation. I scarf down my cake as quickly as I can, and I notice from the corner of my eye that all the Royal boys are doing the same.
Gideon beats us all, dropping his fork on his empty plate and scraping his chair back. “I need to make a phone call.”
His father frowns. “We’re about to serve coffee.”
“Don’t want any,” Gid mumbles. He hightails it off the patio as if he can’t get away fast enough.
Reed opens his mouth to speak but Callum silences him with a look. You’re not going anywhere, it says. And Reed angrily slumps back in his seat.
The catering staff comes out with trays of fancy-pants lattes featuring actual designs created out of the foam. Mine’s a leaf. Brooke’s is a tree but should’ve been a pitchfork.
“Excuse me,” Dinah says as the coffee is served. “I need to use the little girls’ room.”
Reed catches my gaze and we both roll our eyes, and I instantly regret the moment of camaraderie because it brings a pleased half-smile to his lips.
This time, it’s Easton and I who beat out the brothers, slurping our lattes back in record time. We slam our cups down and speak at the same time.
“I’ll help the caterers with these dishes—”
“I’ll take in this tray—”
We glare at each other for a moment, but our mutual need to flee inspires another bonding moment.
“Ella and I will take care of this,” Easton finishes, and I nod in gratitude.
Callum is quick to protest. “The wait staff is perfectly capable of—”