Dead End Road

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I walked into the café, dressed in a black skirt and a heather-grey long-sleeved shirt.

My long fingers were clustered in thrift shop jewelry and there was chipped black paint on my short nails.

Tucking my long, unruly black hair behind an ear, I paused and scanned the tables for a familiar face.

My hair was getting long. Too damn long. It was down to my waist, stark black and a mess in tangled curls.

“My darling,” An arm slipped in mine, interlinking. “-this way.”

I glanced over at Reaver, holding back a grimace. “Ugh. You.” I mumbled, glancing back away as he guided us through the restaurant.

“Yes, me. Your fiancé. Or have you forgotten our arrangement?”

I wish.

“No.” I muttered in response.

“Good.” He patted my arm, letting go as we came to a table where my mom was seated, and he pulled out my chair for me.

I sat down and he tucked me in, settling in the chair beside me.

Mom smiled over at us. “Hello. How are you two doing this morning? Looking as lively as ever.”

“Lively, mom?” I questioned. “-come on, I’m half dead on my feet, and I feel it too.”

She tsked me. “I was just trying to pay you a compliment.”

She turned her attention to Reaver. “You look dashing.”

“Why thank you. As do you, Mrs. Hart.”

“Oh, just call me mom. We’re almost family!” She smiled brightly.

I suppressed the urge to gag.

My eyes sidled over to Reaver who was grinning and I narrowed my gaze into a glare before looking away.

He was wearing some obnoxious blue suede suit that made me wanna slap him.

His hair had grown out nearly to chin-length, dark and sleek as it fell around his square jaw.

“Are we ordering? I’m starving.” I said absentmindedly.

“Yes, dear. They’re bringing out coffee.” Mom responded.

“Coffee? No food? What about…the food?”

“If you want food then get food, Arabelle.”

I pursed my lips, snatching up the menu and studying it.

Mom spoke again, about a different subject this time. “So, are we all set on the date?”

“I’m set.” Reaver answered.

“Do they have nachos?” I uttered, glancing over the items.

“Doubtful.” Reaver answered me. “The date though, love? Are we decided?”

“Uh,” I glanced up from the menu. “…Um.” My eyes shifted between their expecting gazes. “…Yeah?”

Only a month until the wedding. Kill me now.

“Do you have a problem with it?” Mom inquired. “We can change it.”

“No. No. It’s great. It’s super duper great.” I looked back down at the menu.

 They went on discussing wedding things and I started to tune it out, trying to decide on what to get to eat.

Our coffee came, and the waiter that was carrying it.

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