If I had to describe dinner in one word it would be: awkward. You know what, awkward is putting it lightly. It's worse than that. No one has said a word since we sat down 10 minutes ago, and the only sound that I hear comes from the silverware that hits the expensive chinaware each time someone forks around the chicken marsala.
Mark looks at Gillian from across the table, hoping that she'll say something, but Gillian turns to look at Nico, which is pointless because we both know that Nico isn't uttering a peep. So, I volunteer, despite my reluctance.
"Dinner is delicious," I say. Do I mean it? Not really. Does it matter? Not really. But a white lie never hurt anyone, and I can't sit at this table for the next hour in uncomfortable silence.
"Thank you, Bella," Gillian smiles at me and says in a low voice, taking the credit as if she cooked dinner herself.
Mark clears his throat as he reaches for the red wine in his crystal glass, swirling it around before taking a sip. Once he sets it down, he directs his attention to Nico.
This won't be good.
"Nico, I'd like you to accompany me into the office tomorrow. There are some meetings that I want you to sit in on."
Nico stops playing around with the rice on his plate and looks up at his dad.
"Tomorrow's not good. I'm busy."
Mark snickers. "Busy? Busy with what?"
"Like you care," Nico says, but with a chuckle to lighten up his harsh comment.
"I do care." Mark intertwines his fingers and stacks his elbows on the table, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "Enlighten me, Nico. What are you busy with?"
Nico hesitates for a few seconds, looking at his dad to see if he's actually being serious. When Mark's curious expression remains, Nico goes on. "I told Brooks I'd run an errand with him."
Mark squints his eyes and angles his head to the side. "I'd love to know what's so grand about this errand that Brooks can't take care of it himself?"
"He needs my opinion on something."
"On what exactly?"
"Mark, would you just drop it?" Gillian intervenes.
"Why don't you stay out of it? This conversation doesn't concern you." Mark angrily looks at Gillian before shifting his focus back to Nico. "Well?"
Nico sucks his cheeks in before responding, "It's for the Summer Dance. Brooks is getting his tux tailored and needs my opinion on how it fits."
"Oh," Mark says, surprisingly not mad with his son's answer. "You know what? That's actually a good idea. Get yours tailored, too, while you're at it." Nico doesn't say anything, and now I'm the one looking down at my plate uncomfortably. "How much money do you need?" Mark asks Nico, whipping out a gold paper clip that holds at least $1,000 in the form of $100 bills.
"That won't be necessary," Nico says. "I'm not going."
Gillian scratches her neck as Mark looks on confused. "What do you mean you're not going?"
"I don't see why I have to," Nico shrugs.
"Appearances, Nico. That's why you have to. You know better than to say something dumb like that."
"Mark...," Gillian warns.
"Don't 'Mark' me," he contests, turning back to look at Nico. "You're going to the Summer Dance whether you like it or not."
"You don't get to make decisions for me."
"When I'm funding your pretentious lifestyle, you bet your ass I do."
Nico pushes out his chair and stands up. "Take it. You can have it. This big empty house. The cars. The clothes. I don't want it anymore if it means not having to deal with you."
And just like that, Nico storms off. I'm about to get up from the table when Mark beats me to the punch and goes after him.
"Nico, get back here," I hear him yell, and I turn to Gillian, who seems weirdly unfazed by it all. Like this is just another night at the Bradford household.
I'm not quite sure where Nico and Mark went, but if I had to guess, I'd have to say that they're in Nico's bedroom because I can hear arguing coming from the floor above us. In this moment, there's nothing more that I want to do than to intervene and protect Nico. But, when it comes to Mark Bradford, I've never understood my place in Nico's life.
"So, Bella, sweetheart," Gillian looks at me and says, "how is your summer going so far?"
And this is exactly why I lose more and more respect for Gillian Bradford as the days go on. Her son and her husband are intensely fighting upstairs, but here she remains, sitting calmly and pretending to enjoy her dinner. How can one be so careless? How can one be composed?
I look at her in an almost disgusted manner. I'm past the point of shocked. This woman no longer baffles me because she isn't conflicted; she chose a side. She chose herself.
I stand up from my seat, and her eyes follow my movement. "I'm going to find Nico," I tell her, and she appears slightly stunned.
She doesn't respond though; she doesn't even flinch, not that her doing so would stop me. I head for the stairs, and just as I'm about to go up, Nico comes racing down, with Mark no where in sight. Nico's so heated that he doesn't even notice me standing there, so I call out to him when he passes me and makes his way for the front door.
"Nico!" I cry out, but he's already unlocking his Porsche and getting in. "Nico!"
He finally stops and turns around, his chest contracting; his breathing heavy. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I can't be here. I have to go."
"Then let me go with you."
He looks at me sorrowfully, clearly feeling bad that he even considered leaving me alone with his parents. "Bella..."
I walk up to him and rest my palm on his cheek. "Please, Nico," I beg as my eyes search his. "Let me go with you."