Absolutely not.
I’ll come up with another excuse closer to the date. For now, it was easier to appease my parents than to argue.
“Excellent. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s go around the table and share our accomplishments for the past month.” My mom straightened. I’d inherited her height and green eyes but not her passion for a legal career, much to her disappointment. “I’ll start. I won the case against Arico Oil…”
I pushed my food around my plate as my parents and sister shared their latest professional triumphs. This was everyone’s favorite part of dinner except mine. It gave them a chance to brag and gave me a severe case of stomach cramps.
After my dad finished telling us about the multi-country tour he’d organized, it was my sister’s turn.
“As you know, I was up for a promotion at work. I had some strong competition but…” Natalia looked around the table, her face glowing with excitement. “I got it! I got the promotion! You’re looking at the World Bank’s newest vice president.”
She beamed while my parents erupted into congratulatory cheers and my stomach dropped like an anchor to the ocean floor.
“Congrats, Nat.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. “That’s amazing.”
I was happy for her, truly.
But as always, the weight of my inadequacies eroded any joy I might’ve gleaned from my family’s accomplishments.
My mom was saving the environment, my dad was negotiating world peace, and my sister was on track to become the youngest president in World Bank history.
What was I doing?
Pinning my hopes on a campaign I might not get, pretending to date a man I wasn’t sure I even liked, and lying to over nine hundred thousand people about my relationship status.
While my family was sipping daiquiris on life’s luxury cruise liner, I was barely keeping my head above water.
After the hubbub over Natalia’s promotion died down, all eyes turned to me.
“Stella,” my father prompted. “What did you accomplish this month?”
I got fired because I didn’t check my phone for a few hours on a Saturday night. But on the bright side, I gained ten thousand followers after I posted a picture of me and the man I’m dating as a publicity stunt.
“Well.” I cleared my throat and scrambled for something safe to share. “My blog was featured as one of the top—”
The ring of my father’s phone interrupted me.
“Excuse me.” He held up one finger. “I have to take this.” He stood and walked toward the living room. “Hello, sir? Yes, this is a good time…”
I glanced at my mother and Natalia, who were busy discussing how to celebrate Natalia’s promotion.
I might as well be invisible.
Relief bloomed in my stomach as I stabbed a cherry tomato and brought it to my mouth.
At least I didn’t have to make up some stupid accomplishment to satisfy my parents. For once, their lack of interest in my career was a blessing, not a curse.
I made it all the way to dessert without having to answer a single question when my phone lit with a new text.
Christian: How’s dinner?
A quick flutter disturbed my chest.
Me: How did you know I was at dinner?
Christian: It’s dinnertime. Call me psychic.
A small smile curved my mouth.
Smartass.
Me: The food is great. The company could be better.
Me: How was your day?
We texted back and forth for a while about my event and his day at the office (boring, according to him). It was our first conversation since last night and surprisingly normal.
Neither of us brought up the note until dessert was finished.
Christian: I have some updates regarding last night.
Christian: When will you be home?
I could practically hear the shift in tone over text.
My stomach pinched with nerves as I typed out my reply.
Stella: In the next hour or so.
The trains ran less often this time of night.
Christian: Give me your address and I’ll send a car. Until we find the person who sent the note, you shouldn’t be taking the metro by yourself this late at night.
A strange warmth glided through my veins.
Normally, I would’ve turned him down, but I didn’t want to take the metro alone again. The station closest to my family’s house was always creepily empty after rush hour, and taking an Uber would be too expensive.
I sent him the address as requested.
Christian: The car will be there in twenty minutes.
Christian: I’ll see you soon.
Another flutter disrupted my heartbeat.
The simple promise in his last text shouldn’t excite me so much…but, for reasons unknown to myself, it did.