From Bully To Beloved

“Seems like a lifetime ago,” she says with a hint of irony, flashing her ring: a golden wedding band with a huge diamond. “Let me see your ring, Sera.” She takes Sera’s hands that have exactly zero rings.

“Well, we-” Sera starts.

“What, no ring?”

“Oh, how avant-garde,” Mr. Osborn says. “There’s no real reason to wear a ring in this time and age. Some might even say it’s an antiquated custom.”

Charlotte shakes her head. “It’s bad luck to not wear a wedding ring.”

“The dining room is just through here,” I tell them, motioning for them to come farther into the apartment, nipping any ring discussions in the bud. “Why don’t I open this wine, and we can enjoy it together.”

“An excellent idea,” Mr. Osborn agrees.

Once they are comfortable in the dining room with their aperitifs, Sera and I duck into the kitchen. Sera makes for the kitchen island and grabs one of the platters. I rummage through the drawer in search of the wine opener.

“The whole ring thing was so awkward. And I can’t believe you kissed me in front of them,” she mutters under her breath.

“You started it. You pinch my cheeks, I kiss you.”

“It’s not fair.”

“All is fair in marriage and war.”

“That’s not how the saying goes-it’s ‘All is fair inloveand war.’ Not marriage and war. It’s also such a cliche line and only used to lame justification for misbehavior used to gain advantage in situations exactly like these.”

“Well, it worked perfectly for me. Now hurry up, smarty pants.”

Her cheeks are still red, but she smirks, carrying two trays into the dining room.

I find the corkscrew and follow close behind.

“Oh, how delightful,” Charlotte says when we enter and Sera sets the trays down in the middle of the table. “But-” Charlotte’s smile falters, and she cranes her neck, trying to see past us into the kitchen. “Oh, I’m so sorry, is there something wrong with your girl?”

Sera frowns. “Girl?”

“You know, your serving girl. The one who made all the food. Is she not feeling well? You two should not be doing this yourself.”

Oh, geez. Here we go. Sera tries to keep her composure, but by the severe arch of her eyebrow, it’s perfectly clear she has a few choice words going through her head. I prevent her from saying what I’m sure is going to be a smartass reply (which, let’s be honest, Charlotte deserves).

“Actually, Sera did make everything herself,” I say with pride, setting about opening the wine. “We don’t have any servants. It’s just me and Sera. We prefer it that way.”

“Oh.” Charlotte sounds disappointed.

“Well, you young ones don’t know what it feels like to have a good staff at your beck and call,” Mr. Osborn says. “I wouldneverlet my wife lift a finger if she didn’t want to.”

“Thank you, dearest,” Charlotte says.

It’s so hard for me to contain my laugh. First off, it’s a stupid asinine way to look at things. Seriously, what year are we in? Osborn is talking like it’s the 1950s. Second, as if I could evenbeginto tellmy wifewhat she can and can’t do. It took a fucking bet to get her to stop leaving her bra lying around.

“I love cooking,” Sera sweeps in coolly. “When Coltontold me we were hosting a dinner, I was more than happy to put the time in to help my husband.”

There’s a bite to her words, a second meaning that only I seem to catch. Charlotte gives her an “Aren’t you precious?” look, not realizing that Sera’s words can also be viewed as a thinly veiled insult.

“It looks delicious,” Charlotte says. “Our girl never makes anything this extravagant. Dear, we should hire a new one, don’t you think? Or maybe an in-house cook?”

“Let’s first talk to her, dear. Let’s not jump the gun. I’m sure she’ll be able to make you happy.”

“How’s business, Mr. Osborn?” I ask, steering the conversation to a work-related topic.

“Thriving as always,” Mr. Osborn says with a grateful expression. That’s all it takes for him to go off, rambling about his current businesses and how well they’re doing.

Once the wine is tasted and poured, I sit next to Sera, reaching under the table and squeezing her hand. She squeezes back, and I’m reassured she’s okay. I take a bite of one of the stuffed mushrooms, and my mouth explodes with a multitude of flavors. Not wanting to interrupt Mr. Osborn, I nudge Sera, and when she glances at me, I give her an approving nod and a wink. She beams.

Damn. Seriously, she could absolutely be a successful chef if she wanted to be.

Charlotte takes careful, dainty bites of her food. She throws in the occasional comment regarding her husband’s work, but for the most part, Mrs. Osborn remains silent. She doesn’t seem interested in trying to engage Sera in conversation anymore, which I’m sure suits Sera just fine.

“Tell me about the dealership,” Mr. Osborn suggests, picking up his wineglass. “Are you on schedule?”

“Yes, we are. Bikes have already been delivered, our staff is nearly full, and we have an opening date.”

“Excellent. That’s good to hear. I shall visit soon and take a look myself.”

Now Charlotte decides to cut in, her eyes trained on Sera. “These hors d’oeuvres aredelicious,”she exclaims. “Everything is very tasty-I didn’t expect that.”

“Very tasty. You must have spent all day in that kitchen.” Mr. Osborn says.

“Thank you, Mr. Osborn, I was able to prep them after work yesterday,” Sera says with a smile.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Oh, what do you do for work?” Charlotte asks, meeting Sera’s gaze.

“I’m a waitress at The Diner.”

Immediately, the energy in the room shifts, and I know exactly why. Fucking pinch me, this is not happening.

Charlotte’s smile doesn’t fade, but I notice there isn’t much sincerity behind her eyes. “Oh,” she says. “I see.” She returns to her food without another word in response, completely ignoring Sera-except this time, it seems purposeful.

Mr. Osborn eyes Sera, sipping his wine stiffly, and chooses that moment to continue our conversation. “Anyway. It’s great that you’re on schedule. Construction can be such a hassle,” he remarks. “You know, when I was your age, I was opening my twentieth business…”

I have to admit, I tune him out.

Strange energy has taken hold around the table. While she was smiling and open before, suddenly Charlotte seems completely disinterested in everything that isn’t her plate or her wine. I glance at Sera, and it’s clear she feels the change as well. Her cheeks are red, and she rises to her feet.

“I’ll get the main course,” she says, trying to sound positive.

I need to talk to her privately. “I’ll help.”

“No, no, I got it, babe,” she confirms, her hand on my shoulder to prevent me from standing.

Mr. Osborn is still talking to me, seemingly unaware that I’m hardly paying attention. From the bits and pieces I catch, he’s talking about having issues with his construction crew. Charlotte joins in, and they end up having their own conversation about the woes of finding good help. My gaze tracks Sera as she disappears back into the kitchen.

“When I was a young man,” Mr. Osborn continues, “I remember when I was overseeing the construction of my first dealership. By then I had already managed several and knew how things were run and what was to be expected. There was a contractor, such a rude man, always using foul language and not in the least concerned about his physiColtonappearance, who was always arguing with me, telling me that what I wanted couldn’t be done. Well, I’ve never been one to take no for an answer-”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Osborn. Just one moment,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’m going to help my wife.”

“She said she’s got it handled,” Charlotte pipes in. “I’m sure she’s used to serving. Just take a seat. You work so hard, you deserve it.”

Oh, hellno. Too fucking far.

“My wife works hard as well,” I say patiently. “The least I can do is help her carry a tray. Excuse me.”

Not being able to stand another moment in this room, I slip out to find Sera in the kitchen. She’s standing at the counter in front of the food, unmoving. Quietly, I approach her side, placing a comforting hand on her lower back and feeling her body trembling.

“Everything all right?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Sera says, brushing me off. “I just needed a moment. They’re…”

“I know.”