That premonition about timing hits me again. Something is definitely wrong. I can’t let them do this.
I don’t want this. I’m not even sure why. I love Helen and the way she chased away Papa’s loneliness, but I don’t love this.
I have to do something. Now.
“Papa, I —”
“Congratulations, Mum.” Cole stands up and hugs her, and her face breaks into a radiant smile. He then shakes Papa’s hand. “Congratulations, Sebastian.”
“Thank you, son.”
Congratulations?
Congratu-fucking-lations?
Why the hell did he do that? Why is he giving them his blessings?
No.
This can’t be happening.
“Princess?” Papa stares down at me with a creased brow. He’s disappointed in me for not being like Cole.
He hates that I’m making Helen even slightly uncomfortable.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I stand up on wobbly feet and flash the showtime smile I’ve perfected so well. “Congratulations, Papa, Helen. I’m so happy for you both.”
I’m not.
If there’s a place lower than hell, I deserve to be there. Why am I not happy for them?
It’s because of Mum, right? I’m the number one believer in her romance with Papa, despite all the fights, and I’ve hoped that someday down the line, they’d eventually get back together.
Especially since, until Helen, they hadn’t actually seen other people after their divorce.
However, that’s not the thing that’s gripping my heart in its black, merciless claws.
I force myself to listen as they talk about the wedding preparations and that they need to do it soon, before the elections.
They agree on my birthday, a ‘double celebration’, Papa says.
I open my mouth to scream, NO, but instead, I say, “I promised to call Mum. Can I go?”
“Why, of course.” Helen strokes my arm, her features creasing. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, perfect. I can’t wait to tell Mum the news.”
“I’m afraid she won’t be as acceptant of them.” Papa cuts through his meat with a neutral expression.
“What are you talking about? Mum will always be happy for you.” My voice is on the verge of a breakdown. I need out of here. Now.
And I need to stop trying to look at the arsehole across the table. He wouldn’t help. He ruined it.
“Cynthia? Happy for me?” Papa lifts his head. “Are we talking about the same Cynthia Davis who’s currently gathering people to vote down my bill?”
“She means no harm. I’ll be right back.”