Love With No Filter - Book 1

23: NICK

Thanksgiving in the Raynott household is hell. I didn't particularly want to travel back to DC to spend the weekend with my family, but it wasn't up for debate. The message for my mom read:

Mom: Dinner for thanksgiving at 6. Don't be late.

Receiving a message like that from Moira Raynott would be a death wish if you were to ignore it. So here I am, sat at the dinner table, Sophie to my left and my parents opposite us, grandparents either side.

The dinner is awkward to say the least. No one talks. I prod my turkey with my fork, my mind wondering to what Inez might be doing at this very moment. She didn't say much about what she was doing for the holiday, only that she would be with Stacey. Good. I'm glad she has someone to spend the weekend with. If she didn't, I may have very well caved into the idea of ditching the Raynott family meal and made a meal out of her instead.

It was blatantly obvious how much we wanted one another. The attraction was undeniable. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. And from the way she eye-fucks me from across the conference table, I know these feelings aren't one sided.

Sophie clears her throat, "So Nick, how's New York?"

That's the first time someone has asked me about myself in the three hours I've been here. And of course it's Sophie. She's the only one who cares about me. My parents don't even lift their eyes to engage in conversation and my grandparents aren't interested in what I have to say. My Nana is still completing her crossword in her lap and my grandfather has his eyes glued to the TV where the NFL football game is playing. My dad occasionally looks up to check the score but then his gaze returns to his food and he silently eats. My mom is no better.

"Good actually. It's and incredible city, I've attended some pretty big events and I'm learning from the best. It's great."

"Sounds like fun." Sophie says sadly as she takes a sip of her Chardonnay. She hates white wine. In fact, she hates wine period. Sophie had a wild reputation in college for partying, shotting vodka and downing cheap beer. She was so fun back when she had freedom and wasn't destined to take over the family business. But ever since I dropped out, her feather boas have been replaced white white pearl necklaces and her party dresses are now pleated skirts and plain tops. Sophie is living a life she didn't want which doesn't suit her one bit. She doesn't just look different. She also looks sad. And part of me blames myself for her sadness.

"Uh, yeah. It's quite the experience. Inez and I got lucky landing the intern."

Everybody freezes, especially Sophie who now looks pale and sick. I can't figure out what I've done wrong until my mother hisses at me from across the table, "Nicholas. Not now."

I would usually cower at her harsh words, but not today. I know where this is headed and I can't say I like it much. "What do you mean by that, Mom?"

"We don't talk about her Nick. You know this." She says firmly. Sophie looks visibly uncomfortable now, shifting in her seat and chugging her wine faster.

I know Inez and Sophie were friends. Best friends even. But the fight between them ended years ago. I don't even know what the drama is. And the argument I don't know anything about is what fueled my hatred for Inez in the first place. But now I'm starting to question why it is that I hate Inez at all. The only thing I hate about her now is how badly I want her. And even so, she's mine to hate, and no one else's.

"I'm getting tired of everyone in this family referring to 'her' as if she's a disease. Her names Inez. You got a problem about her, speak up." The words fall out my mouth before I can stop them and everyone's head turn to look at me all with matching exasperated expressions on their faces.