Celine Monet has lived alone with her mother ever since she was five, when her parents got a divorce and only one won custody over her. But finally, eight years later, her father wins shared custody.
After moving across the country and settling...
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I grin. "Aw, he's so cute."
"I know." He says, a soft look overtaking his features.
He's about to talk again when my father walks back into the room. He smiles. "Dinner's ready."
Scarlett and my mother are trailing him, the former smiling and the latter with a stone cold expression, as always.
I stand, my grandparents taking Elias, before I walk over to my mother. She sends me a look that suddenly makes me feel guilty. I'm betraying her—her past, the stories she's told me—by smiling with these people. By talking to them. By liking them, even if it's only an emblem.
I drop my gaze and walk beside her, following everybody out into the hallway and into the large dining room—in the centre of which is a long dining table, topped with a white tablecloth and expensive looking cutlery.
"Don't eat too much." My mother mumbles in my ear. "You've had a lot over the past few days."
My cheeks flush in embarrassment, but she quickly swats my arm. "Stop that." She orders.
I look up, swallowing the lump stuck in my throat when I see Scarlett staring straight at us, head tilted to the side and her eyes narrow into a glare. Did she hear what my mum said? Does she agree? It's just because I've been doing a lot, so I've used up more energy, therefore needed more food. But she's right. I have gained a lot of weight.
I frown.
"Celine, you can sit here." My father says, motioning to the chair beside the head of the table. My mother sighs, but begins walking over. I follow, taking the spot beside my father. She goes to sit next to me, but Nicolas quickly swoops into the seat. Scarlett walks over with a high chair, sitting down beside Nicolas after putting Elias in it. It stays between his parents.
"Celine." My mother says sharply. I stand up, but my father talks, making me pause.
"She doesn't have to be glued to your side all evening, Isabel." He says. His voice commands all the attention in the room; everyone turns to look at him, all chatter ceasing. Even Elias stays quiet. "This isn't about you. It's about Celine meeting the family you took her away from."
I look down at the floor.
When my father turns his words back to me, his tone is much softer. Not as scary or intimidating. "Sit back down, amour." (T—Sweetheart.)
Tentatively, I do. My father smiles, pleased, before looking over at the other end of the table. "There's an empty chair over there." He says.
My mother sighs heavily before walking over to it and sitting down. I keep my eyes trained on my empty plate as people begin to talk again, filling the room with noise. Everyone starts shovelling food from the trays in the middle of the table onto their plates.
