“It’s the accomplishments game.” It sounded stupid when I said it out loud, but every time I thought about that “fun game,” anxiety crawled beneath my skin and ate away at my nerves. “It makes everything into a competition,” I said. “You, Dad, and Natalia all have these high-powered jobs, and I’m…well, you know. I love fashion, and I’m not ashamed of it. But every time we play that game, I feel like I’m the biggest disappointment at the table.” “Stella.” My mother sounded pained. “You’re not a disappointment. I admit, we don’t always understand your choices, and yes, we wished you’d chosen a more financially stable career than fashion. But you could never disappoint us. You’re our daughter.” “We want what’s best for you,” my father added gruffly. “We weren’t trying to keep you from doing what you loved, Stella. We just didn’t want you waking up one day realizing you’ve made a mistake when it’s too late.” “I know.” I didn’t doubt that my parents wanted what was best for me. It was the way they went about it that was the problem. “But I’m not a child anymore. You have to let me make my own decisions and mistakes. If my fashion line takes off, great. If it doesn’t, I’ve learned some important lessons and I’ll do better next time. I just know that’s what I want to do. I can’t go back to working for someone else.” My parents exchanged glances while Natalia shifted next to me. “I have a decent amount of money from some big brand deals I signed, and I…” I hesitated before I finished. “I completed my first collection. A local boutique agreed to stock it, so I’m hoping that’ll bring in more money as well.” I also planned to do an official launch online, but I wanted to test the waters first. My mother’s eyes widened. “Really? Oh, Stella, that’s amazing!” “Thank you,” I said shyly. I traced the handle of my mug with my thumb. “So, you’re not mad that I’m not looking for an office job?” Another exchange of glances. “Obviously, you’re doing well with your partnerships, and the fashion line is off to a good start.” My father coughed. “There’s no reason why you should get an office job if that’s not what you want. But,” he said when a smile blossomed on my face. “If you ever run into trouble, you need to tell us. No hiding it like you did the D.C. Style debacle.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “Good. Now, where’s that smart-mouthed boyfriend of yours?” he grumbled. “It was disrespectful, the way he spoke to me in my own home, but I suppose he
wasn’t entirely wrong.” My smile dimmed. “We, um…” I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. “We broke up.” Three pairs of surprised eyes turned to me. Considering the way Christian and I had defended each other at the dinner, they’d probably thought we would last longer than a few months. So had I. “I’m sorry,” my mother said sympathetically. “How are you doing?” I forced a smile. “I’ll be okay.” “You’ll find someone better.” My father’s tone turned brisk. “Never liked him. If you knew some of the rumors”—he broke off when my mother elbowed him sharply in the ribs—“But I guess they don’t matter now,” he finished with another grumble. I switched topics, and the conversation lightened until my father went outside to take a call and my mom went to use the restroom. Natalia had been noticeably quiet all afternoon, but she turned to me when they were out of earshot. I stiffened, bracing myself for another critical or snarky comment. Instead, she looked almost sheepish as she glanced at me. “I didn’t want to bring it up again in front of Mom and Dad,” she said. “But I’m sorry for the way I outed you about D.C. Style. I didn’t mean to be malicious.” “Didn’t you?” Her eyes widened before a flush stole over her cheeks. “Maybe a little,” she said quietly. “You were right when you said everything feels like a competition.” “It doesn’t have to be.” “No.” Natalia examined me with a curious expression. “You’ve changed. You’re…” “Bolder?” I said with a small smile. Her smile matched mine. “Yes.” That was one of Christian’s greatest gifts to me. Not expensive jewelry or fancy trips, but the courage to speak up for myself. My sister and I lapsed into silence again when our parents returned. I felt strangely tired all of a sudden, but maybe that was the emotion draining me. “We have to leave for an event, but family dinner soon?” my mom asked hopefully. “Though perhaps we should skip the achievements portion and simply enjoy the meal.” I let out a choked laugh. “That’s probably a good idea.” I breathed in her familiar perfume when she hugged me.
My family hugged all the time in public, but that was mostly for show. We had to play our part as the perfect family. This time, it felt real. Brock waited until my family left before he ventured over.
He’d given up trying to melt into the shadows since my breakup with Christian. I wasn’t sure whether it was on his boss’s orders or if he was more worried now that I was no longer living in Christian’s house. Either way, I appreciated and resented it. Appreciated it because I liked the sense of security. Resented it because he reminded me of Christian, and every reminder was a knife through the heart. “Are you ready to leave, or do you want to stay longer?” Brock asked.
Maybe it was the lighting, but he looked several shades paler than when he’d entered. “We can…” He swayed on his feet. A sharp stab of concern pulled my brows together. “Do you need to sit down? You don’t look so good.” Actually, I didn’t feel great either. My earlier lethargy intensified and tugged at my limbs and eyelids. Brock’s face swam before me until I blinked the blurriness away. “Yes, I”—he gripped the edge of the table. “I”— his face turned ghostly white before flushing crimson. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He bolted toward the bathroom. The door slammed shut. A second later, I heard the faint but unmistakable sound of vomiting. My own stomach twisted at the noise. I hoped we hadn’t gotten food poisoning, but something was clearly wrong. My vision blurred again. This time, blinking didn’t help. I stood, hoping the change in altitude would clear my head, but an instant wave of dizziness forced me back into my seat.
What is going on? I’d only had tea and a pastry. Could you even get food poisoning from tea and pastries? Black dots danced in front of my eyes, and panic tightened my lungs. Air. I need air. I stumbled out of the booth toward the entrance. Booth had said to stay and wait for him, but the noise around me had coalesced into a concrete weight in my chest. No matter how many
deep breaths I took, I couldn’t push it off. But… I made it halfway to the door when something hit me. What if someone had drugged me and Booth and was waiting for me to leave? It seemed far-fetched, but stranger things had happened. I paused at the exit and tried to sort through my increasingly muddled thoughts. If I stayed, I might suffocate. If I left, I could be playing right into a hypothetical attacker’s hands. Think, Stella. Was I being paranoid? It wouldn’t hurt to sneak a quick breath of fresh air, right? I could stay right by the— Someone came up behind me close enough to touch, and I realized I was blocking the door. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. The words came out slurred. “I’ll move out of your way.” “Don’t be sorry,” the figure said. “You just made things a lot easier for me.” Something cold and hard pressed against my back. I was so out of it, my brain took several moments to register what it was. A gun. My panic exploded into a trapped scream that never made it out of my throat. Not so paranoid after all. I was so stunned about being right that I couldn’t process what was happening. I felt like I’d been dropped into the middle of an action thriller with no warning. “Don’t scream.” The gun pressed harder. “Or this will be very messy for everyone involved.” How was he able to do this in public? Did no one notice what was happening? But it was the lunch rush, and my body was shielding his, and… My thoughts jumbled further. I didn’t have the energy to sort through what was happening, nor did I have a choice. I followed the figure outside and would’ve tripped and fell had he not held me up.