I switched topics, and the conversation lightened until my father went outside to take a call and my mom went to use the restroom.
Natalia had been noticeably quiet all afternoon, but she turned to me when they were out of earshot.
I stiffened, bracing myself for another critical or snarky comment.
Instead, she looked almost sheepish as she glanced at me. “I didn’t want to bring it up again in front of Mom and Dad,” she said. “But I’m sorry for the way I outed you about D.C. Style. I didn’t mean to be malicious.”
“Didn’t you?”
Her eyes widened before a flush stole over her cheeks. “Maybe a little,” she said quietly. “You were right when you said everything feels like a competition.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“No.” Natalia examined me with a curious expression. “You’ve changed. You’re…”
“Bolder?” I said with a small smile.
Her smile matched mine. “Yes.”
That was one of Christian’s greatest gifts to me. Not expensive jewelry or fancy trips, but the courage to speak up for myself.
My sister and I lapsed into silence again when our parents returned.
I felt strangely tired all of a sudden, but maybe that was the emotion draining me.
“We have to leave for an event, but family dinner soon?” my mom asked hopefully. “Though perhaps we should skip the achievements portion and simply enjoy the meal.”
I let out a choked laugh. “That’s probably a good idea.”
I breathed in her familiar perfume when she hugged me.
My family hugged all the time in public, but that was mostly for show. We had to play our part as the perfect family.
This time, it felt real.
Brock waited until my family left before he ventured over.
He’d given up trying to melt into the shadows since my breakup with Christian. I wasn’t sure whether it was on his boss’s orders or if he was more worried now that I was no longer living in Christian’s house.
Either way, I appreciated and resented it.
Appreciated it because I liked the sense of security.
Resented it because he reminded me of Christian, and every reminder was a knife through the heart.
“Are you ready to leave, or do you want to stay longer?” Brock asked. Maybe it was the lighting, but he looked several shades paler than when he’d entered. “We can…”
He swayed on his feet.
A sharp stab of concern pulled my brows together. “Do you need to sit down? You don’t look so good.”
Actually, I didn’t feel great either. My earlier lethargy intensified and tugged at my limbs and eyelids. Brock’s face swam before me until I blinked the blurriness away.
“Yes, I”—he gripped the edge of the table. “I”— his face turned ghostly white before flushing crimson. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He bolted toward the bathroom. The door slammed shut. A second later, I heard the faint but unmistakable sound of vomiting.
My own stomach twisted at the noise.
I hoped we hadn’t gotten food poisoning, but something was clearly wrong.
My vision blurred again. This time, blinking didn’t help.
I stood, hoping the change in altitude would clear my head, but an instant wave of dizziness forced me back into my seat.
What is going on?
I’d only had tea and a pastry. Could you even get food poisoning from tea and pastries?
Black dots danced in front of my eyes, and panic tightened my lungs.
Air. I need air.
I stumbled out of the booth toward the entrance.
Brock had said to stay and wait for him, but the noise around me had coalesced into a concrete weight in my chest. No matter how many deep breaths I took, I couldn’t push it off.
But…
I made it halfway to the door when something hit me. What if someone had drugged me and Brock and was waiting for me to leave? It seemed far-fetched, but stranger things had happened.
I paused at the exit and tried to sort through my increasingly muddled thoughts.
If I stayed, I might suffocate. If I left, I could be playing right into a hypothetical attacker’s hands.
Think, Stella.
Was I being paranoid? It wouldn’t hurt to sneak a quick breath of fresh air, right? I could stay right by the—
Someone came up behind me close enough to touch, and I realized I was blocking the door.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. The words came out slurred. “I’ll move out of your way.”
“Don’t be sorry,” the figure said. “You just made things a lot easier for me.”
Something cold and hard pressed against my back.