Chapter 6
A familiar car flashed past as we drove out of the hospital. I turned, “Was that Matteo?”
“Definitely not,” Sloane replied coolly. “He’s probably somewhere cozy right now, pouring his heart out to his precious Sage. You’re the last thing on his mind.”
I’d always prided myself on being level–headed. I’d hoped we could handle the breakup with dignity. But hearing that… well, dignity suddenly seemed overrated. I blocked Matteo on every platform. Out of sight, out of mind.
Harrison arrived home right after us, immediately disappearing upstairs to change. His scowl hadn’t lifted since the hospital.
When Mrs. Watson served dinner, Harrison emerged looking like he’d stepped out of a Goldman Sachs boardroom – pristine suit, not a hair out of place.
Sloane gaped at him. “Are you having a psychotic break? Who dresses like that for family dinner?”
“This is… perfectly normal for me,” Harrison ground out.
Sloane’s eye twitched, but she kept quiet.
Mr. Astor arrived then, greeting me warmly before taking his seat. Harrison eyed his father’s formal attire suspiciously.
“No changing? Thought you couldn’t wait to get into your ratty Oxford sweats the minute you got
home?”
Mr. Astor glanced between me and his unusually polished son, clearly amused. “Well, we have company. Got to keep up appearances.”
Harrison’s jaw twitched.
As dinner began, Harrison sat ramrod straight, barely touching his food.
“Could you move those braised short ribs away? Too heavy for my palate.”
Mrs. Watson obliged while Harrison delicately nibbled at his salad.
“Since when do you eat greens?” Mr. Astor asked, baffled. “Usually you’re all about the meat.”
15:39
The Ice Prince’s Love Prescription: I’m Your Remedy to Forget Your Ex
2.2%
Chapter 6,
Harrison paused, eyeing his father who was meticulously cutting his steak. “Really? Aren’t you the one who usually eats everything with your hands, claiming ‘food tastes better that way“?”
Mr. Astor froze mid–bite.
“Actually,” I jumped in diplomatically, “some foods are definitely better enjoyed without silverware. I’ve given up on being proper with ribs myself.”
The tension eased slightly, but Harrison wasn’t finished.
“And let’s not forget how Father insists on putting ketchup on his wagyu steaks, even at Eleven Madison Park. The sommelier nearly fainted.”
“For God’s sake, what’s gotten into you today?” Mr. Astor snapped, throwing his napkin on the table. “I’ve lost my appetite. You all enjoy dinner without my apparently uncivilized presence.”
Sloane became intensely interested in her plate, while Mrs. Watson tried to break the awkward
silence.
“There’s been a car parked outside for quite a while… looks like a Spectre?”
Harrison stood immediately. “I’ll handle it.”
Moments later, we heard him instructing the security guard: “Tell that white–plated car to move along. We didn’t order any Uber. Give him $500 for his trouble – enough for a decent meal after wasting his evening.”
I whispered to Sloane, “Your brother’s strange, but he’s actually pretty decent.”
Sloane just stared at her plate, speechless.
