DAHLIA WESTBROOKE
The next three weeks were probably the most uneventful and serene weeks of my life ever since my mother died.
Thankfully, Eden and I had immediately clicked after we met up for coffee, so I had one more presence in my very lonely life.
I'd fallen into a routine, and three times during the week, I attended Pilates classes with Eden. Either that, or we went to the gym sometimes, even though Tarasov had a state-of-the-art gym in his home. He never complained when I left the house. Tarasov, that is. Every morning, he had breakfast and tea waiting for me, and with him staring me down with those intense eyes of his, I found myself scarfing down breakfast quickly, so we could go our separate ways.
In the afternoons, I leisured at home, taking walks in the garden sometimes, napping, and even reading a few books I'd bought on my way home from my morning hangout with Eden.
While it was a peaceful routine, I was positively bored, and I looked forward to having human interactions, when I shied away from it in the past.
On one such morning after Pilates with Eden, we stopped by her favorite coffee shop which was fast becoming mine. It was cozy and quiet, allowing us to catch up. Well, Eden mostly talked about work and dealing with her overbearing father, while I listened, chipping in sometimes so we could curse him out together.
"I'm sorry I can't stick around today," Eden apologized, handing me my order from the barista. "I have this work thing to attend with my father, and if I'm even a minute late, he'll lose his-"
"What a pleasant surprise!" A sickly sweet, nasally voice interrupted out of nowhere, and I looked up from my seat to find my half-sister staring down at me with one of her practised, goading smiles on her blown up lips.
I found it rather ironic that she'd mocked me for having fuller lips when we were younger, only for her to turn around and get fillers down the line. I had nothing against people doing whatever they wanted to with their bodies. I just had everything against this devil incarnate standing before me.
I slid out of the booth, offering her a casual smile that I didn't quite feel. "Bethany."
"We never see you these days. How have you been? Why didn't you tell us when you got out of the hospital? I was sooooo worried," she lied through her teeth, pouting her lips and looking down at me like one would a helpless animal.
I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my irritation any further. "I believe my husband must have provided numerous opportunities for that to happen. You just never took them, so we can't really blame me, can we?"
Her smile fell, and her eyes immediately flew to my empty hand. "Married? You're married?!" Her gaze strayed toward Eden, and she quickly shook her head, going back to her default, sweet public persona. "Of course, you are. Sorry, I forget things so easily lately." She rubbed a hand over her flat belly, that vicious smile returning to her lips. "The baby has been stealing all of my brainpower; I can't comprehend things on most days without Grayson's help."
Another very obvious bait, and one I refused to take, so I offered her another one of my many ingenuine smiles. She could smash her head on a rock for all I care, and it still wouldn't get me to bat an eye at her very obvious instigation. "I believe congratulations are in order. I'm so happy for you."
"Oh, Dahlia, you're so sweet. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were carrying yourself. Or are you?" She posed the question so innocently the average person wouldn't notice the disgust in her eyes as they fixated on my thighs and hips.
Probably uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, Eden took that as her cue to intervene, clearing her throat before she spoke. "I'm afraid Dahlia and I have somewhere urgent to be. Don't let us keep you from your coffee. I would go light-handed on the sugar, though. I'm sure you wouldn't want to worsen the condition of your skin. It dampens the glow from your pregnancy, you know?"
Without another word, Eden ushered me out of the coffee shop, quietly seething behind me, until we burst out of the doors. "Oh, my God, she's such an asshole. I know she's your sister, so forgive me for saying that, but Jesus fucking Christ."
A laugh escaped my lips unexpectedly. "No, I agree. Bethany wouldn't know kindness, even if it hit her in the face. But I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be caught dead consuming sugar, especially when she's pregnant."
Her biggest fear since she was fifteen was gaining a singular pound, and she made it everyone's problem. Particularly mine, being that we went to school together. Fun times.
"I could tell. And I was totally lying about her skin. She looks flawless. It's such a shame that her personality is anything but that. And also, ignore whatever she was trying to say about your weight."
"I knew you caught that," I grumbled, a fresh wave of embarrassment dousing me.
"I know she was trying to be sneaky, but trust me, I've dealt with my fair share of catty comments about my body." She laughed to herself, shaking a curly strand out of her face. "I mean, if she considers you fat, then I'm freaking humongous in her eyes."
"Absolutely not," I disagreed immediately. "You shouldn't take Bethany seriously. You're so beautiful and unreal, it'd take a liar to disagree."
Who would dare say anything about Eden's looks, really? She was so freaking gorgeous, and she had the prettiest almond-shaped brown eyes I'd ever seen. Her proportions were equally unreal, with a tiny waist that curved into wider hips and thick thighs. Even at that, she was nowhere near fat; just curvier than most of the women in our circle.
It hadn't taken much convincing for her to get me to accompany her to her Pilates classes and weight training at the gym, when she claimed they'd helped her sculpt her hourglass figure to perfection. And of course, years and years of dedication. Her genetics were probably on the top of that list, though.
Her eyes twinkled, and she smiled widely at me. "Aw, you're so sweet. And don't you listen to her either. As long as you're healthy, outside opinion about your looks or your weight doesn't matter. That's the best thing I've learned so far; doing whatever makes you feel good."
I smiled back at her, a dull ache building in my chest. I wish I could tune the words out just as easily as she could. I wish I'd met her a bit earlier. Maybe some of her confidence would've rubbed off on me, and I wouldn't be as self-conscious as I was right now.
"I love you, Dee, but I really do have to go. Your driver's here to pick you, right?" Her eyes scanned the parking lot, searching for the fancy car Tarasov sent to pick me. Her eyes locked in on a sleek, black car a couple feet away from us, and she grinned. "Oh, he's rich rich. He sent a Bentley Bentayga today. What's next, a vintage Porsche? Love that for you, by the way."
I wasn't a car fanatic like Eden was, but I had an inkling the prices of the cars he sent would send me into a stroke if I looked them up online, so I never bothered. "It's not like that."
I usually avoided talking about my husband with her, and she never asked. Was it even socially acceptable to admit you have no memory of getting married to your spouse?
"Oh, you're totally blushing right now." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I know you're shy, being newlywed and all, but one of these days, you're going to give me the juicy details of how you two met. He looked totally smitten the other day."
"He had his eyes glued to his phone the entire time."
"If by his phone, you mean your ass, uh-huh. That man couldn't stop staring at you, it gave me chills. He's totally smitten, I tell you." Eden's phone beeped in her hand, and she winced. "Ah, shucks. I really do have to go now." She held her arms open for me. "Come give me a hug."
I stepped into her arms, breathing in the fresh, airy scent of her cherry and jasmine perfume. "Bye Eden. Call me when you're done with this your event. If you need to bitch about your father, I'll happily do that with you."
"Oh, definitely! See ya!"
She hurried off to where she parked her car, and I did the same before I ran into Bethany for the second time today. By the time I got home, I couldn't get into the shower quick enough to scrub off the grime of her dirty looks, and her even more disgusting comments.