The private chef had outdone himself. We were sitting at Vanessa's long dining table, surrounded by pristine white walls and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Beverly Hills skyline. The soft hum of the city in the distance provided a calming backdrop, and the table was set with fine china and silverware that probably cost more than my car.
The chef had prepared a five-course meal, and we were just finishing the second course—some kind of lobster dish that was so delicately plated it felt like a crime to eat it. Vanessa, Alessa, and Bella were laughing and chatting away, reminiscing about their childhood as though the chef and I weren't even there. I was listening, trying to keep up, but I couldn't shake the feeling that their memories came from a world I couldn't fully understand.
"So, do you remember that summer in Monaco?" Alessa asked, leaning back in her chair with a glass of wine in hand, her sharp eyes twinkling with nostalgia.
Bella nearly choked on her drink, laughing. "Oh God, how could I forget? The one where Dad rented that private island because the resorts were all booked?"
Vanessa smirked, twirling her wine glass. "Yeah, and we ended up having that whole week to ourselves, just the three of us and a staff of, what, fifty?"
"Fifty-six," Alessa corrected with a grin. "I counted."
They all burst out laughing, as if this was a completely normal thing to remember.
I, on the other hand, sat there, trying not to let my face show the disbelief that was creeping in. A private island? Fifty-six staff? The closest I had ever come to something like that was watching reruns of "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous." These memories they were sharing seemed so casual to them, but to me, they might as well have been talking about another planet.
Bella leaned forward, still giggling. "Oh, and remember how we got bored and decided to hold a little 'fashion show' with all the designer clothes Mom had shipped in? We had the staff be the audience."
Alessa nodded, smirking. "Right, and Mom was so mad when she found out we'd accidentally ripped that one Chanel dress. What did she do? Just bought another one like it was no big deal."
Vanessa smiled, her eyes soft with the memory. "She didn't just buy another one. She had Chanel send a whole new collection so we could 'pick replacements.' It was ridiculous."
They all laughed again, and I chuckled along, even though I felt completely out of my depth. Who the hell just orders a whole new collection from Chanel? I mean, I knew Vanessa came from money, but hearing these stories firsthand was something else entirely. It wasn't just wealth—it was crazy wealth. The kind that made even the most lavish Hollywood lifestyles look modest in comparison.
And though they didn't mean to sound condescending, every story they told felt like a reminder that I wasn't part of this world. They were trying to be casual, to reminisce in a way that included me, but no matter how hard they tried, the difference in our experiences couldn't have been clearer.
Alessa glanced at me, noticing my silence. She smiled, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "What about you, Tristan? Any fun childhood memories?"
I swallowed hard, trying to think of something that wouldn't sound completely underwhelming compared to their insane stories of private islands and designer clothes.
"Uh, well," I began awkwardly, "my family didn't really do... that. But I remember we used to take road trips every summer. My dad would pack up the car, and we'd drive up to the mountains or sometimes the beach. It was always a good time. Simple, but, you know... fun."
Bella gave me a sympathetic smile, but I could tell she didn't really get it. "That sounds nice. Nothing like getting away from it all."
I nodded, trying to force a smile. "Yeah, it was."
Vanessa, sensing the awkwardness, jumped in. "I think road trips can be just as special as any of the trips we took, honestly. It's about the memories you make, not the place."
Alessa raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Sure, but I mean, there's something to be said for a private jet and not having to deal with other people's screaming kids on a plane."
Bella giggled. "True. I don't miss flying commercial."
They all laughed again, and I could feel myself shrinking into my seat a little. It wasn't that they were intentionally trying to make me feel out of place, but their world was so far removed from anything I'd experienced that it was hard not to feel like an outsider. They'd grown up with private islands, designer clothes, and personal chefs, while I'd grown up with road trips and campfires.
The private chef brought out the third course—some sort of delicate risotto with truffle oil and gold flakes sprinkled on top. I stared at it for a second, wondering how the hell I was supposed to eat something that looked this fancy.
Bella, still riding the wave of nostalgia, turned to Vanessa with a grin. "Oh, remember that time in St. Barts when we had that ridiculous yacht party? The one where half of Europe's royalty showed up?"
Vanessa chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, and Dad got mad because we were supposed to be 'laying low.' Like that was even possible."
"Laying low? On a hundred-million-dollar yacht?" Alessa snorted. "He was delusional."
"Totally," Bella agreed, laughing. "And then there was that prince... what was his name? The one who wouldn't stop hitting on you, Vanessa."
Vanessa sighed, rolling her eyes. "Prince Eduardo. God, he was persistent."
Bella giggled. "He practically followed you around the entire trip. I thought you were going to throw him overboard."
They all laughed again, and I found myself forcing another smile. A yacht party with royalty? This was a level of wealth I couldn't even wrap my head around. And they were talking about it like it was just another day in the life.
Bella must have noticed the look on my face because she turned to me, her green eyes full of curiosity. "You okay, Tristan? We're not boring you with all our old stories, are we?"
I shook my head quickly, trying to act like it wasn't bothering me. "No, no, it's fine. Just... different."
Vanessa placed a hand on my knee under the table, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, we've had a bit of an... unconventional upbringing."
Alessa smirked, taking a sip of her wine. "You could say that."
Bella leaned forward, her expression softening. "But seriously, Tristan, don't feel weird. I know our stories sound crazy, but we're still just normal people."
I raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. Normal people? They had a private chef serving us gold-flaked risotto right now. There was nothing normal about this. But I knew they meant well, so I just nodded.
"Yeah, I get it," I said, my voice a little forced. "You're normal... in your own way."
Bella smiled, clearly not picking up on the sarcasm. "Exactly."
The conversation carried on, with more childhood memories and more stories about their insane vacations, lavish parties, and interactions with celebrities and royalty. Every now and then, they'd try to include me by asking about my life, but it always felt like I was offering up something painfully boring in comparison.
"So, Tristan," Alessa said at one point, fixing me with that sharp gaze of hers, "how are things going with your psychology program?"
I cleared my throat, grateful for the change in topic. "It's going well. Just started, so I'm still getting into the swing of things. We've been talking a lot about Freud and some of his more... interesting theories."
Bella grinned, leaning forward. "Oh, I love Freud! He's so bizarre, but there's something fascinating about how his theories still pop up in modern psychology. Have you guys talked about the Oedipus complex yet?"
I laughed, nodding. "Yeah, actually, we just covered that last week."
Vanessa smirked, squeezing my knee again. "He told me all about it. We had a good laugh."
Alessa raised an eyebrow. "The Oedipus complex? You mean the whole 'secretly attracted to your mother' thing? That's... intense."
I shrugged, trying to keep things light. "Yeah, it's a little weird, but Freud was kind of a weird guy. I think some of his ideas still hold up, though. Like how people are subconsciously drawn to certain types of partners because of their upbringing."
Bella nodded, clearly intrigued. "I always found that part of Freud fascinating. The idea that we're all carrying these hidden desires and motivations that we're not even aware of."
I smiled, feeling a little more in my element now that we were talking about psychology. "Yeah, exactly. It's all about digging into the subconscious."
Alessa took another sip of her wine, her eyes still on me. "Interesting. And how does that fit into your relationship with Vanessa?"
I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, well... I don't know. I haven't really thought about it like that."
Vanessa chuckled, clearly amused by the conversation. "I don't think Freud applies to us, Alessa. We're a bit more complicated than that."
Bella giggled. "Complicated is an understatement."
As the dinner continued, I couldn't help but feel a little more at ease. The Reed sisters were a handful, no doubt, but they weren't bad people. They were just... different. Their world was so far removed from mine, but they were trying to make me feel included, even if it didn't always land the way they intended.
And as the night went on, I started to realize that maybe I didn't have to understand their world completely. As long as Vanessa and I were on the same page, that was all that really mattered.
***
The night had dragged on, and after the private chef had served us dessert—a decadent chocolate soufflé with edible gold dust—things started to loosen up. By that point, the wine had been flowing for hours, and it was clear that Alessa and Bella were feeling it. Even Vanessa, usually poised and composed, was starting to look a little flushed, her smile easier, her laugh more frequent. But Bella—well, Bella was completely gone.
She had been giggling uncontrollably for the last half hour, her glass of wine clutched loosely in her hand as she swayed in her seat. At some point during the conversation, she got up and stumbled over to where I was sitting at the other end of the table. Before I knew it, she was right next to me, her arm wrapped around my shoulder, the scent of expensive wine strong on her breath.
"Tristan," she slurred, giggling again, "you're a pretty one, aren't you? Much prettier than Vanessa's last pet."
I blinked, caught completely off guard. Pet? What the hell was she talking about? I glanced over at Vanessa, who was watching with a slightly amused but concerned look on her face. Vanessa's last pet? Vanessa had never really mentioned any of her exes to me, at least not in detail. Now here was her sister, drunk off her ass, throwing out some wild story about Vanessa's last boyfriend like it was no big deal.
I chuckled awkwardly, trying to brush it off. "Uh, thanks, I guess?"
Bella laughed, her grip on my shoulder tightening as she leaned in closer. "No, seriously, you're way better. The last one... ugh, what a disaster. Like a lost puppy, you know? Vanessa dumped him so quick, I swear she didn't even give him time to figure out what went wrong."
I froze for a second, trying to process what she had just said. A lost puppy? Dumped him quick? Vanessa had never talked to me about any of her ex-boyfriends, and hearing about it now, in this way, was... unsettling. I glanced over at Vanessa again, hoping she'd step in and maybe rein her sister in before this got any weirder.
Vanessa's lips tightened into a thin smile, and she raised a hand to call over the butler, who had been standing discreetly in the corner of the room, waiting in case anyone needed anything.
"Bella," Vanessa said, her voice smooth but with an underlying firmness, "I think you've had a little too much to drink."
Bella pouted, still leaning heavily on me. "What? Nooo, I'm fine!" She waved her half-empty wine glass around, spilling a little on the table. "I'm just being honest. This one"—she gestured toward me, her arm still wrapped around my shoulders—"he's so much prettier than the last guy. You really upgraded, sis!"
Vanessa's smile stayed tight, but there was a warning in her eyes. "That's enough, Bella. You're drunk."
Bella giggled, clearly not picking up on the tension in the room. "Oh, come on, V. You know it's true. You dumped that guy so fast he didn't know what hit him. Like, one minute he's all over you, thinking he's got it made, and the next minute, bam! You're gone. But this one"—she squeezed my shoulder affectionately—"he's different. He's a keeper."
I laughed nervously, my eyes darting to Vanessa, who looked like she was about two seconds away from telling her sister off.
Before I could say anything, Vanessa called to the butler. "Thomas, please escort my sister to her room. She's had too much wine."
The butler, an older man with impeccable posture and a neutral expression, stepped forward with the grace of someone who had done this a hundred times before. "Of course, Miss Reed." He gently placed a hand on Bella's arm, trying to guide her away from me.
But Bella wasn't having it. She clung to me, giggling. "Nooo, I don't wanna go! I'm having fun! We're just talking, right, Tristan?"
I shot Vanessa a look, silently pleading for help. She sighed, getting up from her seat and walking over to where Bella and I were awkwardly entangled. "Come on, Bella," Vanessa said, her voice softer now. "It's been a long night. Let's get you to bed, okay?"
Bella pouted again, but eventually let go of me, though not without stumbling slightly. "Fiiine," she muttered, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated way. "But I still think I'm right. Tristan's better. You should keep him."
Vanessa shot me an apologetic look as the butler led Bella toward the staircase. "She's... well, she's had a bit too much."
"Yeah, I gathered that," I said, laughing awkwardly. "Didn't realize I'd be getting compared to an ex tonight, though."
Vanessa winced slightly, running a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry about that. Bella doesn't know when to stop sometimes. I didn't mean for her to bring up any of that."
I shrugged, trying to play it off. "It's fine, really. I just didn't know there was an ex to compare to."
Vanessa sighed, sitting back down next to me and taking a sip of her own wine, which she had barely touched. "There was... but it wasn't serious. He thought it was more than it was, and I ended it before it got too far. It's not something I like to talk about, especially not with you. It's in the past."
I nodded, understanding where she was coming from. "Fair enough. I'm not gonna pry."
She smiled at me, reaching out to take my hand. "Thanks for being understanding. Bella didn't mean any harm, she's just... well, she's Bella."
I chuckled, squeezing her hand. "Yeah, I can see that. She's definitely a handful."
Vanessa laughed softly, her eyes softening as she looked at me. "I'm glad you're here, Tristan. I don't want you to feel weird about anything. What Bella said... it's not important. What matters is you and me."
I smiled, feeling the tension from earlier start to melt away. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just happy to be here with you."
We sat there for a moment in comfortable silence, the distant hum of the city outside filling the space between us. The night had been more chaotic than I'd expected, but as I sat there with Vanessa, I realized that no matter what craziness came with her family, I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Q: Have you ever watched "Crazy Rich Asians before"?