“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Oh, he speaks. Cameron guides me into the booth next to Ryder and slides in after me to take the end.
“No, not at all.” D’lilah takes a sip, or more like a gulp, of her wine. “Although, some of us aren’t getting any younger.” Her eyes never leave Cameron. “Isn’t that right, Cam?”
“Mom, you promised.” Ryder’s fixed on his mom, and Cameron’s glare is directed at her too.
The air is heavy with the silence between them. I fidget in my seat, wanting desperately to melt back into the booth and become one with the pleather.
“Welcome to The Striphouse, my name is Tarryn, can I get you two something to drink?”
The waitress’s bell-like voice works like a whistle to call time out between the three at the table. This is going to be a long night.
Cameron orders a bottle of wine, and the mood is a little airier by the time we get our glasses.
“I’d like to make a toast.” I raise my glass and everyone follows suit. “To Ryder, you’re now a legal adult. Don’t do anything stupid and get yourself killed.”
Ryder’s eyebrows come down low over his eyes. Cameron drops his head a little, and D’lilah’s face goes pale. Everyone is silent, staring. So much for the lighter mood.
“Cheers?” I hold my glass to the middle of the table, and slowly Cameron taps my glass. The rest of the family follows his lead. I try to make eye contact with Cameron, but he seems content to look everywhere but at me.
“How long do you think we’ll be here?” Ryder checks his watch. “I told the guys I’d meet them at an eighteen-and-over club.”
“We’ll make it quick.” Cameron waves for Tarryn.
I take a long draw from the full-bodied red wine and pray that the booze goes straight to my head so I can get through the next hour because Lord knows I’ll need a buzz to do it.
“Are you ready to order?” Tarryn is back, and I scramble for the menu that I haven’t even had the chance to look at yet.
“We’ll split the Kobe steak, creamed spinach, and Au Gratin potatoes.” Cameron doesn’t even look at me even though he clearly just ordered for me. He snags my menu from my hands and gives it to the waitress.
What the fuck? First, he’s clearly got a stick up his ass. He’s been communicating like a damn caveman, and now he’s taking away my options for dinner? I take a deep breath and chain up my shitty remark that would no doubt make a crap situation worse.
Besides, tonight is about Ryder, and although the poor guy looks as if he’d rather be at a One Direction concert rather than dining at the table-o-tension, I can pull my shit together for him.
“What’s the name of the club you’re headed to?” D’lilah says, her eyelids drooping a little.
Ryder goes into his plans for the night, and we all listen attentively and pretend it isn’t uncomfortable as hell.
“Mm, sounds like fun.” She shrugs. “Maybe I’ll go with you.”
“’Li, it’s his birthday for shit’s sake,” Cameron says on a growl.
“I realize it’s his birthday. But I’d like to go have some fun too, seeing as I’m the one who birthed him.”
“It’ll be nothing but a bunch of kids, ’Li. That’s ridiculous.”
“Ha, but hanging out with kids”—she leans across the table toward him, the deep neckline of her blouse exposing the tan strap of her bra—“seems to have worked for you.”
A low grumble charges the air, and I slide my hand to Cameron’s thigh on instinct. His muscles are rock hard as if he’s gearing to use them to spring across the table at his ex.
“Not another fucking word,” he says so deep and low that it raises gooseflesh on my arm. “Tell me you hear me.”
D’lilah’s eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth to speak.
“Wait, just stop.” I pull my napkin from my lap and put it on the table. “I shouldn’t be here. It’s making things tense, and Ryder doesn’t need this on his birthday. I’ll go—”
“No fucking way, babe.”
I give his leg a squeeze. “Cam—”
“Eve, I invited you here,” Ryder says. “It’s my birthday, and I say you stay.”
“Yay.” D’lilah rolls her eyes into her wine glass.
I’m rethinking my idolization of D’lilah Monroe.
“She’s staying.” Cameron throws back the rest of his wine and pours himself more.
I make a mental note that a grumpy Cameron equals me having zero say in shit! I rip my hand from his thigh only to get the glare of all glares and a jerk of my hand back to his thigh.
Asshole.
After a few minutes of silence, it’s clear that no one at the table is going to even try to salvage the rest of the night. I remember my talk with her on the Fourth of July. She seemed to calm and even become pleasant when we talked about her modeling. I’ll give it a shot. Worst she can do is tell me to go fuck myself.