We Were Meant to Be

95 | broken girl

With a heavy heart, I get up from my bed. Maybe a cup of hot coffee will help start my day, although it's not even my comfort drink. I doubt that drinking hot chocolate will help because now it will only remind me of her. That's fucked up.

I know that living seems impossible with pain this much, but I have a business to run, and a family to come back to.

I drag my feet outside my room and walk toward the kitchen. The sight of Ashton, Ian, and Sam eating together at the dining table greets me.

I frown. Ashton and Sam have had their breakfast together sometimes at the kitchen counter, but this is the first time I see Ian joining them.

Ashton notices my presence, but he just throws me a glance before focusing his attention back on his breakfast.

As for Ian and Sam, it seems like they choose to not notice me.

I lean back against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. I watch them, forgetting why I'm here in the first place.

"God, this food tastes so damn good," Sam moans.

"Damn right," Ashton says, munching his food. "The best of the best. Too bad someone won't be able to taste it."

"Not a chance," Ian adds. His expression is sullen. "Not even a bite."

The three of them turn their heads toward me and toss me a piercing glare.

"What are you doing here?" Ashton asks. His tone is far from friendly.

I almost scoff. What kind of question is that?

This is my fucking house. I can do whatever and go wherever I want, although I know why he's angry at me.

Ian eyes me, and his stare feels like a threat. "If you think that you can touch any of Nevaeh's dishes that she made for you, there's no way that it's going to happen. You don't deserve it."

I instantly straighten up and rush toward the dining table. My legs are moving before I know it.

But then, they all block me from the food protectively and say in unison, "in your dreams."

I'm fighting the urge to snap, because no matter how much I want to try the food, deep in my heart I know that they're right.

I may not deserve it. Hell. I don't deserve it at all.

But the sight of them devouring Nevaeh's heavenly dishes that she cooked specially for my birthday makes me want to roar and topple the dining table.

I stomp toward the opposite end of the table, pull a chair, and sit. They keep eating, dismissing my glare like it's something insignificant.

My mouth waters as I stare at the food Nevaeh has prepared for me -- all my favorites. Starting from my favorite appetizer buffalo chicken dip and mushroom soup, main course garlic butter roasted beef tenderloin and grilled scallop, up to my favorite dessert carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.

That's not all. I see a fluffy birthday cake with reach and creamy chocolate buttercream. It's the most beautiful birthday cake I've ever seen and it absolutely makes me drool.

Goddammit. Did Nevaeh really prepare all of this for me?

And they won't even let me fucking taste it.

"There's a kid glowering over there." Ian points his head at me, and Sam scoffs mockingly.

Right now they have zero loyalty to me I wonder why I hired them.

"Mine," I hiss. I'm acting childish, but hell with that. "Nevaeh made all of this for me. It's mine."

Ian shakes his head in disagreement, not stopping himself from munching the food. "No," he hums. "Not after you hurt her."