Chapter 119: 119 | An Under-the-Table Declaration of War
Chloe watched Jordan’s ears turn red as her fingers traced higher on his thigh. His jaw clenched. His breathing changed. His mother was still talking about Cassie’s apartment and Jordan was nodding like he actually heard the words coming out of Susan’s mouth.
He didn’t hear anything. Chloe knew that. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand gripped his water glass like he was trying to crush it.
This is mean. I should stop.
She moved her hand another inch higher.
Jordan’s leg jerked. He coughed into his napkin.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Susan paused mid-sentence.
"Fine." Jordan’s voice came out strained. "Just. Uh. Water went down wrong."
David gave his son a look that suggested he didn’t believe that for a second.
Chloe kept her expression perfectly neutral. Interested. Engaged. Like she wasn’t currently torturing her boyfriend under an expensive tablecloth while his parents watched.
I’m going to hell. Definitely going to hell.
But the nervous energy that had been eating through her stomach since they walked in was finally fading. David’s interrogation had rattled her. The question about her father had hurt more than she wanted to admit. And Susan’s comment about them still being together in nine months had made something twist in her chest.
Because what if they weren’t? What if this whole thing fell apart before Thanksgiving?
Jordan had promised her something earlier. That he was hers. That she didn’t need to share. But the inheritance requirement hung over them like a guillotine blade waiting to drop.
Two more girls. He needs two more girls. And I said I’d help him pick them.
The thought made her want to throw up. Or break something. Or both.
So instead she dragged her fingers along the inside of Jordan’s thigh and watched him try not to completely lose his mind in front of his parents.
"Chloe?" Susan’s voice cut through her thoughts. "What about you, dear? Do you have any siblings besides your brother?"
"Just Daniel." Chloe pulled her hand back to a safer location. Jordan exhaled like he’d been holding his breath underwater. "He’s obsessed with video games right now. Wants to be a professional streamer when he grows up."
"Like you!" Susan smiled. "That’s sweet. You could mentor him."
"Maybe." Chloe sipped her wine. "He’s better at games than I am, though. I’m planning to focus on lifestyle content. Fashion, cooking, that kind of thing."
"Oh, Korean cooking?" Susan perked up. "I love Korean food! There’s this wonderful place in Irvine that makes the best bibimbap."
"My father used to make budae-jjigae every Sunday." The words slipped out before Chloe could stop them. "It was his specialty."
The table went quiet again. Chloe cursed herself internally.
Stop bringing him up. They already think you’re tragic enough.
But Jordan’s hand found hers under the table. Squeezed once. His thumb traced circles on her palm the way hers had been tracing circles on his thigh.
Thank you.
"That’s a beautiful tradition," Susan said gently. "Food is such an important part of keeping someone’s memory alive."
Chloe nodded. Didn’t trust herself to speak.
The waiter arrived with their food. Chloe’s linguine looked incredible, the seafood glistening under a light sauce, fresh herbs scattered across the top. Jordan’s chicken marsala smelled rich and savory. His parents’ steaks were cooked perfectly medium-rare.
"This looks amazing," Jordan said.
"It does." Chloe picked up her fork. "Thank you for bringing us here. Both of you."
"Of course, dear." Susan beamed. "We wanted to meet the girl who’s made such an impression on our son."
An impression. Right. Because he went from pathetic simp to functional human in two weeks and I was just. There. Existing next door.
Except that wasn’t true. Jordan had changed himself. She’d just been there to watch it happen. To benefit from it, if she was being honest.
No. Stop. You’re more than that. He said so himself.
Chloe took a bite of her pasta. The flavors exploded on her tongue. Garlic, white wine, butter, fresh tomatoes. She made a small sound of approval without meaning to.
Jordan glanced at her. His hazel eyes were warm.
"Good?" he asked.
"Really good." She twirled more pasta onto her fork. "Want to try some?"
"Sure."
She leaned over and fed him a bite directly from her fork. His lips closed around the tines. He chewed slowly, his gaze never leaving hers.
Stop looking at me like that. Your parents are right there.
But she couldn’t look away either. The air between them felt thick. Heavy. Charged with something that had nothing to do with pasta.
"Delicious," Jordan said. His voice dropped lower on the word. Rougher.
Chloe’s stomach flipped. Her thighs pressed together under the table.
Not now. Absolutely not now. We are in public with his parents and I am not going to get turned on by him eating seafood linguine.
Except she already was. Because Jordan had this way of looking at her like she was the only person in the room. Like his mother and father weren’t sitting three feet away watching them flirt over Italian food.
"You two are adorable," Susan sighed. "David, aren’t they adorable?"
"They’re something," David said dryly.
Jordan’s ears turned red again. Chloe bit her lip to keep from laughing.
The conversation shifted to safer topics as they ate. Classes. The weather. Susan’s book club. David’s plans to expand one of the convenience stores. Normal family dinner stuff that made Chloe’s chest ache a little.
This is what normal looks like. Parents who ask about school and care about your future and don’t make you work yourself to exhaustion just to keep the lights on.
She pushed the thought away. Focused on her food. On Jordan beside her, solid and warm and real.
Halfway through dinner, Susan excused herself to use the restroom. The moment she left, David turned his full attention to Chloe.
"I need to apologize," he said. "For earlier. I shouldn’t have pushed about your finances. That was out of line."
