Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Okay, yeah, maybe. “We’ll see,” I say, still struggling to accept she’ll be attending college in January.
She’ll be in New York regardless of what we decide.
I lower to my seat. “I’m sending all my therapy bills to you this month, Audrey Virginia.”
“I will happily pay them.” She sits down.
I can’t even make a quip about bribery. The door blows open. Mom and Jane return to assure us that Ben is okay. We’ll be resuming opening remarks soon.
We all try to eat while we wait. I push around a green bean with my fork.
Audrey will be fine in the dorms, right? We can check in on her from afar. It might not be exactly what she wants, but it’s not the worst situation in the world.
I glance over at Eliot while he cuts his goose with a knife and fork.
He won’t want Audrey in the dorms. He’ll want her with us. He’s always tried to be the glue that binds us all together.
I think the glue is Beckett. He’s the only one who repairs without damage. The only one who knows how to hold all of us as one.
I think he’s going to decide everything in the end.
Or maybe it’s just a comfort to myself—knowing I have a calm, reasonable brother that can steer through storms.
Ben has relaxed a lot. He even gives me an appreciative look when he settles back in the dining room with everyone. Our parents implore us not to let new challenges tear us apart but bring us closer instead.
Then Mom raises her wine. “Any other opening remarks?” she asks at the same time my phone buzzes by my plate.
I check my messages beneath the table.
PHOENIX WOLFGANG
Jealous you’re not at my tea party? How’s yours going?
My body almost relaxes at the text. I respond quickly.
TOM CARRAWAY
Not a tea party. And…fine. Kind of tense. Abnormal. How are you?
PHOENIX WOLFGANG
Currently destroying your apartment with silly string.
Holy shit, this night. I contain a groan.
TOM CARRAWAY
Seriously?
PHOENIX WOLFGANG
Seriously.
“Anyone else?” Mom asks.
Eliot punches me lightly in the arm. I jolt away from my phone. “Who’s next?” I ask.
“We’ve all gone, brother,” he says.
Fuck, I missed everyone’s remarks. They must’ve been condensed tonight. I couldn’t have been texting for more than five minutes.
I’m last, and I glance at my parents at either end of the table. “I have a boyfriend,” I announce. No theatrics. No standing on my chair. This is just a normal release into the air, but its pure existence is the fireworks.
It never needed anything extra.
Mom’s lips rise behind her goblet of wine.
Dad’s grin stretches wider. “We know.”
My jaw drops. “Wait, how?” I narrow accusatory eyes at my siblings. “Who told them?”
They all claim innocence before Mom says, “Phoenix called you his boyfriend when we first met him.”
No.
Fucking.
Way.
“You’re serious?”
“Very,” she notes.
I crash back in my seat, my hands on my head. My emotions go through a turntable, but I land on the most powerful feeling. Joy.
Utter, pure, radiating joy knowing he thought of me as a boyfriend for so long. I hold tightest to that.
So when Mom announces we’re moving into the game portion of the dinner, I’m still riding a high. The only thing that drops me to Earth is the reminder my apartment is being vandalized by my boyfriend.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I hide my phone beneath my cloth napkin on my lap. The second portion of the dinner is a quiz format—winner has ultimate bragging rights—and I hear questions being launched around me while I check a new message.
PHOENIX WOLFGANG
Joana left, and Harriet is freaking out over the silly string. She’s just short of a panic attack. I don’t understand what’s going on.
Shit. This is not good.
TOM CARRAWAY
Is she cleaning it up?
PHOENIX WOLFGANG
Yes. Like frantically. She won’t explain it.
I’m not about to leave him in the dark. I can imagine Harriet would take the secret to her grave, even if it meant looking deranged. I type the words. Delete them. Type them again. Don’t think—I hit send.
TOM CARRAWAY
Beckett has OCD. He doesn’t share this with many people.
His reply is fast.
PHOENIX WOLFGANG
Jesus. Yeah. That makes sense. I’m helping her clean it.
“Tom Carraway Cobalt,” Mom raises her voice enough to startle me.
I drop my phone on the floor. “Shit. What?”
She snaps her fingers and points at the crime on the ground. “No phones allowed. Ever.”
“Once a cheater…” Charlie accuses pointedly.
“Dude, no. I’m not cheating.” I flush red. “That was one time.”
“Seven times,” Charlie says. “Now eight.”
“I was twelve the first seven times,” I argue. “Okay, and I wanted to beat you. My goals have severely changed since then, so what’s the purpose of throwing me out if I don’t even want to win?”
“You broke the rules,” Dad says simply. “It doesn’t matter your intent. Or even whether you were searching for answers.”
“Come on,” I complain. “I was texting my boyfriend.”
Mom folds her napkin on the table. I swear she’s smiling. Good signs. Until she says, “You could be texting your husband, and you’d still be kicked out. The rules do not change. No cellphones in use during the game.” She points a talon at the door. “Out.”