Don't lose it. Don't let Rhys see you fall apart again.
Before long, Joel emerged from the kitchen with a full spread—ten dishes and a soup.
Nobody had any appetite. Forks moved, food shifted around plates, but no one really ate.
No one except my mother, who was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, heaping praise on every dish Joel set down.
"Joel is such a catch! A man who can cook—now that's a real man."
I felt like a hollow shell, a body with nothing left inside.
I shoveled food into my mouth mechanically, bite after tasteless bite, until my stomach refused to accept one more mouthful.
Then I bolted to the bathroom and threw it all up.
When I walked Aunt Grace's family to the door, she leaned in close and kept her voice low. "Irene, if you ever find yourself in real trouble, you come to me. Promise me."
I nodded. I did need her help. Just not yet.
The moment everyone was gone, my mother's face curdled. "Was your aunt talking behind my back again?"
"No," I said quickly. "She was just making small talk."
"Don't think I can't see right through her. The second Stella lands herself some trust-fund boyfriend, Grace drags the whole family over here to rub it in my face."