Chapter 112 One hundred and eleven

• The gazebo is deathly quiet and the tension promises to suffocate us. Everything is going well, if you count the curt greetings from Brandon’s snobbish parents. Queen Elizabeth doesn’t hold a candle to Brandon’s mother with her prim and proper manners, wrinkles and white hair cropped short. All she needs is a crown and I’ll genuflect before her.
• Brandon’s dad is an older beardless version of him with thinning hair. He is so quiet, the kind of quiet that allows his haughty wife freedom to speak to people as she pleases. A minute after exchanging greetings and I can already tell it was a bad idea to invite them.
• Seated beside Brandon, muscles tight and frustrated at my lack of release, I drum my fingers on my legs hidden under the table. He didn’t have to punish me this way. I am pregnant, he shouldn’t leave me horny. One look at him shows that’s the least of his worries.