He bared his teeth and – I almost couldn’t believe it – growled.
“Oh right,” Elena continued smoothly. “She is recently married, isn’t she? To some hot shot Hollywood producer.”
“Elena,” Cosima warned softly, her shoulder pressed hard into Sebastian’s side in an effort to stabilize him.
“Fine, I’ll just say, it’s probably for the best. She should be with someone her own age. Tell me, what is it like to have sex with someone the same age as Mama?”
“Elena,” Cosima snapped this time but it was too late.
Sebastian was out of his chair, looming over the table so that he was right in Elena’s calm face.
“I think you’ve proved to all of us as that age doesn’t equal maturity.” He ripped the leather jacket from the back of his chair and took a moment to stare at her, his features softening slightly. “And you would not be nearly as cruel, if you understood love yourself.”
“Sebastian,” I called after him as he stormed away from the table, the consummate actor, exquisitely dramatic.
“What is wrong with you?” Cosima asked, somehow keeping her irritation firmly under control. I was surprised, to say the least. The teenage girl I had lived with five years ago was not capable of such self-restraint.
Elena shrugged, causing Cosima to bare her teeth and repeat her question with more force.
She sighed and scraped her dark hair behind her ears. “Daniel has been acting strange since he came back from Mexico.”
I stilled, every muscle in my body paralyzed by my inner conflict, the half of me that wanted them to know and the other half of me that was terrified to death of the discovery.
“I’m not sure if he really wants this baby,” she continued.
“Oh Lena.” Cosima reached across the table and clasped her hands. “You know how Daniel is. He will love the baby just as soon as it arrives. Abstract thought isn’t his biggest strength.”
“True.”
“He’ll be a great dad.”
My sisters stared at each other for a second before collapsing into giggles. I bristled a bit at their humor; I did think Sinclair would be a great dad.
“What about you, Giselle?” Elena turned to me. “What was your first impression of my partner?
Partner? What a stuffy way to refer to a lover, reducing it to something almost platonic, certainly boring. I took a deep breath, realizing that I was unfairly judging my sister for the way she related to her boyfriend. Hers, not mine. It wasn’t my place to even think about them, let alone allow my bias to further taint my strained relationship with my sister.
“He seemed…” I paused to consider – gorgeous, enigmatic, too controlled? “Professional, maybe a bit aloof.”
Elena nodded, satisfied and maybe even a little proud of my impression but Cosima scoffed. “If you met his parents you would understand.”
“His parents?” I assumed he no longer saw any of his foster parents.
“Willa and Mortimer Percy.”
I frowned, the names tickling something half forgotten at the back of my brain.
“Mortimer Percy is the Governor of New York,” Elena explained with quiet pride.
My mind bubbled and spun like soapy water between my ears. I took a breath and then another one. Had Sinclair lied to me?
“I thought, I mean, I think someone mentioned to me that he was in the foster system.”
“Oh yes, until he was sixteen. They found him in France, you know? Willa is with Looking Glass Model Agency and she spotted him on the streets of Paris. A few days later they were taking him back home to America.” Elena sighed happily. “It really is an amazing story.”
And total bullshit. I was certain of it. Though it did make sense that this Willa woman would work in the fashion agency if Sinclair had been telling the truth about his time spent as a model.
“He modeled for a time but after a year or so the Percy’s decided to adopt him.”