Allison“It was supposed to be just us,” I said, my voice tighter now, thinner. “You and Clyde. That’s what you said.”Alaric dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin like we were discussing business over tea.“Well,” he said mildly, “Saida is family. She is my son’s wife.”Clyde let out a short laugh that held no humor.“Son?” He leaned back in his chair, slow, deliberate. “I never had a father. So cut the crap and tell me why you brought the bitch here.”Saida’s fingers tightened around her wine glass, but she didn’t look at him.I leaned toward Clyde and whispered sharply, “Can you at least shut up?”He frowned at me, jaw flexing, but he did close his mouth.The table felt unstable. Like if one more word was said too loudly, everything would flip.I looked back at Alaric.“I don’t care what twisted father-son relationship the two of you are pretending to maintain,” I said, my voice shaking but steady enough. “But this—” I gestured between them, between Saida, between all of it.
Read more