Page 8 of Reckless
“In my life it is.”
“You can.”
“I’m not as brave as your sons.”
“True,” Charlie said.“Our stomach linings were forged here.”
“You were all raised by a Persian mother with access to butter and ambition,” I said.“The rest of us never had a chance.”
Parvis smiled into his tea.
Roxanne pressed another small pastry onto my plate anyway, because no one escaped this house without being overfed.
“Eat, sheereen-am.”
“Yes, Maman,” I said, because resistance was futile.
Across the table, Xerses looked amused again.
“What?”I said.
“You’re very obedient with my mother.”
“I’m very obedient with women who can destroy me socially.”
“Smart.”
“From who?”
He took his time answering, which I hated because he always seemed to know how silence worked on people.
“Everyone.”
And there was the heat again.
I wanted to be irritated.
Unfortunately I was also a woman with functioning eyes.
Roxanne moved around the table, touching shoulders, adjusting plates, checking on everyone like none of this opulence meant anything if the people in it weren’t fed and happy.She kissed Michael’s cheek.Smoothed Charlie’s hair back.Told Jeff to stop working with his mind while chewing.Called Roman joon.Told Kir to eat more.Pressed another sugar cube on Parvis with the confidence of a woman who had been doing what she wanted for decades.
Then she stopped behind my chair and rested her hand on my shoulder.
I looked up.
Oh, no.
“Kelly joon,” she said, “you must come next weekend too.We’ll all be here.It will be nice.”
“It’s always nice,” I said carefully.
“Yes.”Her fingers squeezed once.“And family should be together as much as possible.”
“I’ll check my schedule,” I said carefully and didn’t correct her that I wasn’t exactly family.
“You have no schedule that matters more than this,” Roxanne said sweetly.
Hope choked on her wine.
