The O (pt. 3)
The silence at the dinner table was tense, and for once in my life I wished Emma would open her mouth and speak. To my left, at the head of the table, Jason was eating his food like nothing was happening, but he had a perpetual smirk in his eyes that I couldn't stop looking at. Something told me he had planned this exact situation, and I was fascinated to know what the outcome was going to be.
"This is delicious, Amar," Alicia complimented, holding up a forkful of paella. "What wine did you use?"
"I used a mixture of dry and rich white wine."
"You use beef stock, right?" My mother questioned, holding up her own forkful of rice. "There's a distinct beef taste here."