I put the phone back down and try to listen to Mr. DeWitt. He’s talking about partnerships and numbers, and our upcoming wedding, ofcourse, but none of it sticks. Not when Slade is sitting right there.“So, Rebel—I mean, Meeka.”I freeze again. This time, he isn't being subtle. He cuts right through whatever his father was saying. Mr. DeWitt stops mid-sentence. His mother’s fork hovers in the air. Slade leans back in his chair, looking way too comfortable. “We haven’t heard much from you tonight,” he says. His tone is casual, but his eyes are intense. “You’ve been very quiet. Everything alright?”My chest feels tight, like it's being tied with a rope, as everyone turns to look at me.“I'm alright. I’ve just been listening,” I say, trying to stay composed. “Mm,” he hums. “You seem like someone who has a lot of opinions, though.”This is so dangerous. “I do,” I say carefully. “Then give us one,” he presses, leaning an elbow on the table. “What do you think about all this?”“All thi
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