Page 62 of Hollow Court
It would look suspicious otherwise.
Gallagher met my eyes over Galina’s head, his lips pursed in suppressed amusement. She briefly glanced at our hands, her brow just barely furrowing before she leaned into me, peeking up at me through demure eyelashes.
“Davin?”
“Yes, Love?” I asked innocuously.
She blinked, and her expression shuttered. “Is everything all right?”
I dipped my head toward hers, feigning intimacy. “I just didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”
She let out the smallest sound of disbelief.
“Of course not. That would be a shame.” She picked up her drink, talking behind the cup. “Do you think they got the wrong idea when they wereaccidentallyfalling all over you earlier?”
I cleared my throat. Fiona had, indeed, all but fallen into my lap in a flimsy pretense of greeting Galina.
“Technically,” I countered, “only one of them did that, and I made it clear how unwelcome it was.”
Galina made a humming sound, her features still perfectly pleasant. “In her defense, I’m sure she feels she has some claim on you, along with…how many others?”
Now, there was a question I didn’t want to touch. It wasn’t as many as she thought, but more than enough to irritate her.
And though I wouldn’t apologize for things that happened when we were no part of each other’s lives, I did feel guilty realizing what she had likely put up with in my absence. What she was still going to put up with, now that I was back.
I picked up my own glass, taking a hearty sip. “You’ve made your point.”
“There was no point,” Galina lied with a perfectly straight face, her countenance going markedly icier. “Merely an observation. It will be easier if we both remember who the other is.”
Would it?
I wasn’t even sure we knew who the other was.
We were serendipitously interrupted when my father raised his glass and called for an announcement.
If my hand hadn’t still been wrapped around hers, I would have missed the way Galina tensed slightly, an unnecessary reminder that she wasn’t any happier about this charade than I was.
My parents, however, gave every appearance of being thrilled when they spoke of how excited they were to welcome Galina to the family, even going so far as to crack jokes at my expense about how I was finally settling down.
Toasts went up all around, my cousins helpfully chiming in.
Gallagher, “To the genuine love they share between them.”
And Gwyn, “To the many, painfully attractive heirs in their future.”
I kicked her under the table while keeping an expression of gratitude plastered to my features.
For her part, Galina gave little to no indication of what she really thought about the toasts. Her resting Socairan face was schooled to a neutral perfection.
By the time soup was served, I had never been more grateful to see a bowl ofpartan breein my life. Galina took one sip of the crab bisque and hesitated before swallowing.
“What is this?” Her voice could have merely been curious, but for the barest hint of tightening around her eyes.
“It’s a creamy soup made with pureed crab meat,” I explained, watching her expression carefully.
When she dipped her spoon in again, I sighed. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it. That’s not a thing here.”
In Socair, there was no greater faux pas than to leave food on your plate, but Lochlannians didn’t get off on making people suffer the way our neighbors to the west did.