Read Online Anywhere With You by Britney King - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Britney King
Ads: Link
drive was awkward to say the least. Amelie barely spoke and when she did, she didn’t meet my eye. I don’t recall speaking much either. Ian did enough running his mouth for the both of us.
I could already tell on the drive in that the place, and likely its occupants were going to be pretentious pricks. Just like their son. And sure enough, I was right. They lived in a small suburb just outside of the city. Their home was a large Tudor style house that I wanted to dislike but couldn’t. Luckily, I didn’t have the same issue with Ian’s parents. Mrs. Larson was slim, her smile fake, her face plastic, and her most favorite thing was perhaps a toss-up between name dropping and talking down to people. She excelled at both as though, aside from her appearance, these were her only two missions in life. As for Mr. Larson, he clearly had excelled at producing progeny that were exact replicas of himself.
Dinner was catered, of course, and there were about forty or so people in attendance. Most of them, I found to be just as dreadful as their hosts were. Only one stuck out as original and down to earth, and she was for the most part occupied. With Amelie tied up, I considered how to bow out gracefully. Only just as I began to make my escape, Mrs. Larson took me by the hand and announced that dinner was being served. So, I took one for the team and stuck around, against my better judgment but kept the number I’d Googled for car services handy, just in case.
By the time the second course was brought around, the conversation had become all but unbearable. It was a matter of minutes before I’d planned to excuse myself citing an emergency. I could tell Amelie was over it too, and I hoped that she’d bow out with me, despite the fact she was doing her best to put on a good show.
I was seated to the right of Amelie. Ian was seated to her left, and as the turkey was brought out, I nudged her to get her attention. As everyone oohed and ahhed over the bird, I felt Amelie squeeze my thigh under the table. She glanced over at me, and I realized it was the first time she’d really looked at me since that morning in bed. She smiled and I saw it for what it was—a silent apology. In her expression, I understood all the things she wanted to say. She wanted to tell me she was sorry for bringing me here, sorry we hadn’t had more time, and most of all that she was sorry we’d spent so long apart. I nodded at her and then watched in slow motion as what’s-his-name clicked his crystal glass with his dinner fork. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he remarked gallantly. My stomach had been flip-flopping all afternoon, and already, I’d wanted to throw up the shitty appetizers I’d consumed. Hearing his voice certainly didn’t help matters any.
“To my parents,” he said, raising his glass. “It’s so wonderful of them to have us all here together.”
There were a few cheers and murmured sentiments. He then clinked his glass with the fork once more and again for good measure. He turned to Amelie. “But the person I especially would like to thank is this woman seated right here next to me.” He motioned toward Amelie, and I watched as her face reddened. She smiled nervously as she glanced around the table. All eyes on her.
Are you fucking kidding me? I wanted to kill the bastard. But mostly, I wanted to save her. Only it was too late. Timing never had been our thing.
“This woman… she has brought nothing but immense joy to my life and so…” He trailed off as he pulled a little blue box from his coat pocket. I watched as he bent down and knelt before her. Amelie’s hands flew to her mouth. “And so,” he raised his voice, “I’d like to ask her to be my wife.” What the fuck is this? He’s actually proposing with bad poetry? “Amelie,” he said opening the box, “will you marry me?” There was dead silence. I’m pretty sure I held my breath. He eyed her expectantly. Until, finally, she answered. And what
I could already tell on the drive in that the place, and likely its occupants were going to be pretentious pricks. Just like their son. And sure enough, I was right. They lived in a small suburb just outside of the city. Their home was a large Tudor style house that I wanted to dislike but couldn’t. Luckily, I didn’t have the same issue with Ian’s parents. Mrs. Larson was slim, her smile fake, her face plastic, and her most favorite thing was perhaps a toss-up between name dropping and talking down to people. She excelled at both as though, aside from her appearance, these were her only two missions in life. As for Mr. Larson, he clearly had excelled at producing progeny that were exact replicas of himself.
Dinner was catered, of course, and there were about forty or so people in attendance. Most of them, I found to be just as dreadful as their hosts were. Only one stuck out as original and down to earth, and she was for the most part occupied. With Amelie tied up, I considered how to bow out gracefully. Only just as I began to make my escape, Mrs. Larson took me by the hand and announced that dinner was being served. So, I took one for the team and stuck around, against my better judgment but kept the number I’d Googled for car services handy, just in case.
By the time the second course was brought around, the conversation had become all but unbearable. It was a matter of minutes before I’d planned to excuse myself citing an emergency. I could tell Amelie was over it too, and I hoped that she’d bow out with me, despite the fact she was doing her best to put on a good show.
I was seated to the right of Amelie. Ian was seated to her left, and as the turkey was brought out, I nudged her to get her attention. As everyone oohed and ahhed over the bird, I felt Amelie squeeze my thigh under the table. She glanced over at me, and I realized it was the first time she’d really looked at me since that morning in bed. She smiled and I saw it for what it was—a silent apology. In her expression, I understood all the things she wanted to say. She wanted to tell me she was sorry for bringing me here, sorry we hadn’t had more time, and most of all that she was sorry we’d spent so long apart. I nodded at her and then watched in slow motion as what’s-his-name clicked his crystal glass with his dinner fork. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he remarked gallantly. My stomach had been flip-flopping all afternoon, and already, I’d wanted to throw up the shitty appetizers I’d consumed. Hearing his voice certainly didn’t help matters any.
“To my parents,” he said, raising his glass. “It’s so wonderful of them to have us all here together.”
There were a few cheers and murmured sentiments. He then clinked his glass with the fork once more and again for good measure. He turned to Amelie. “But the person I especially would like to thank is this woman seated right here next to me.” He motioned toward Amelie, and I watched as her face reddened. She smiled nervously as she glanced around the table. All eyes on her.
Are you fucking kidding me? I wanted to kill the bastard. But mostly, I wanted to save her. Only it was too late. Timing never had been our thing.
“This woman… she has brought nothing but immense joy to my life and so…” He trailed off as he pulled a little blue box from his coat pocket. I watched as he bent down and knelt before her. Amelie’s hands flew to her mouth. “And so,” he raised his voice, “I’d like to ask her to be my wife.” What the fuck is this? He’s actually proposing with bad poetry? “Amelie,” he said opening the box, “will you marry me?” There was dead silence. I’m pretty sure I held my breath. He eyed her expectantly. Until, finally, she answered. And what
Similar Books
