Novel & Cerita Friday Dinner

Not like he gave a damn how he looked tonight—except his mom would have something to say if he showed up in a wrinkled tee and his usual jeans. He settled on a charcoal henley, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal his forearms. Elaine Calloway appreciated effort, even if her son’s heart was in the wrong place tonight. The third Friday of every month, their standing dinner at The Hollow Hearth, a tradition carved from habit and healing. And tonight, he wanted to cancel more than he ever had before.

I explained, watching another dress sail through the air. "Jake from Moon Valley?" Lila grinned, settling onto my bed. "I heard he nearly fell over himself asking about you in diplomatic relations." "Does everyone know about this?" "Know about what?" Freya's voice joined the fray as she bounced into my room. "Oh! Is this for the Crystal Bay date? Because I have the perfect—" "Not you too," I groaned, falling back onto my pillows. "It's just dinner." "Just dinner," Freya mimicked, already joining Odette in the closet raid. "At the most exclusive new restaurant in the city, with a wolf who apparently quotes your territory management theories in class."

Why was he doing this? “Eat,” Chris coaxed. “And I promise we’ll go look for him together. It’s Friday—he’ll be with the boys tonight.” I froze. Friday. The birthday dinner. The piece of chicken I had just bitten into nearly fell from my lips. I quickly chewed, swallowing hard before frantically searching Mr. Han’s desk. I found the Green IV invitation lying on top of a magazine—one from Gavin’s luxury fashion brand. My eyes skimmed the cover. Mr. Han.

I don’t know how long I sat there, lost in thought, before my phone buzzed again. Alex: You free Friday? I stared at it. I could say no. I could tell him I had work, or that Franklin was busy, or that it just wasn’t a good time. But the truth was, Franklin would love it. And I… I wasn’t sure I hated the idea either. Me: For what? Alex: Thought we could all have dinner. Neutral territory. Neutral territory. Like we were diplomats negotiating a truce instead of two people who had once shared a bed and a life.

Decided for me before I even had the chance to think otherwise. And now it was worse. Because now there was something real on the line. Not just me. Someone innocent. I let out a quiet breath. I couldn’t risk it. I took a final breath as I made my way downstairs to the dinner table. Every Friday at exactly 5pm both families sat for dinner like clockwork. Like this wasn’t a transaction dressed up as something meaningful. Like we all didn’t know exactly what this was. I hated it. Hated the routine.

"We should eat fast. We have a really busy day today." ​"We do?" Leo asked, looking confused. ​I plated the eggs and slid them onto the counter. I turned around and looked at him like he was stupid. ​"Of course we do, Leo. It's Sunday," I reminded him. I kept my voice light, but I let my eyes go completely dead. "We have the big family dinner at Alexander's estate tonight. And we cannot be late for the Godfather." ​Leo’s face dropped. He totally forgot.

"But he's worth it. That's not grandmotherly bias. That's observation." "I believe you," Lena said, which was true in a way she hadn't decided yet what to do with. "Good." Eleanor's voice shifted, became businesslike in the way of someone who had said the thing they called to say and was now wrapping up. "I'm having a small dinner next Friday. Eight people. I'd like you both there." A pause. "And Lena — wear something with color. You looked washed out at lunch." She hung up before Lena could respond.

He had said it the way he might have described a useful contact. "Dinner, then," she said, changing the subject before it could sour. "Friday. Just us. Somewhere quiet, no press, no board members. We haven't had a proper evening together in months." Tony set his glass down. He was quiet for a moment, and Victoria watched his eyes move, not to her, but past her toward the closed library door. "Friday is difficult," he said. "Difficult how?" "There's a family dinner Mother has arranged. Some of the older board members are coming. I'm expected to be there."

Margaret went upstairs, while Chelsea stayed at the table beside me. “You’re mad,” Chelsea said. “I’m washing dishes.” “You can wash dishes and be mad.” I looked at her. For once, she didn’t sound like she was trying to insult me. “Did you know they share the same date?” she asked. “No.” Chelsea made a face. “That’s awkward.” I gave a short laugh. “You said that already.” She started helping me collect the glasses. Then she said, “Camille wanted to do dinner next Friday.” I stopped.

SLOANE Friday dinner in the basement was Dad’s idea, same as Thursday. “It’s a tradition,” he announced, hauling down the folding table with the enthusiasm of a man who’d spent forty-eight hours sweating through every shirt he owned and was determined to find the silver lining. “Summer heat, family together, makeshift setup. Character building.” “We have a perfectly good dining room,” Victoria said, following with a stack of plates. “Perfectly good and currently ninety-one degrees.” “Fair point.” She handed me the plates and went back upstairs for silverware.