The Fortunate Ones
Page 54
Ellie meets up with us for the next phase of our prep: makeup. I put up a small fight, trying to insist that I can apply my own. My eye shadow will be basic, probably consisting of a vague brown color, and my lips will be covered with chapstick—the belle of the ball, for sure. Martha isn’t convinced. She plops me down in the chair and holds up a photo of my dress for the makeup artist. He taps his finger on his chin, thinking, and then his eyes light up and he grins. “I have the perfect shadow for you.”
It turns out, he does. It’s gold and shimmery, and when I put on my dark green velvet dress back at home, I look like Holiday Barbie.
Ellie, not one to be outdone, looks ridiculously gorgeous in a dark red silk gown. The neckline falls just across her collarbones, but the back dips dangerously low. It’s equally as understated as my gown, and apparently, they’re from the same designer. Our coordination efforts pay off when we stroll into the W Hotel later that night and I catch our reflection in a floor-length mirror.
Damn.
“I bet this is what Gigi and Bella feel like 24/7.”
She grins and hooks her arm through mine. With her by my side, I feel confident as we enter the ballroom. Martha and the rest of the event organizers clearly ran away with the theme. It looks like they hired Elsa to turn the whole room into a winter wonderland. Icicles hang from the ceiling in densely packed clusters, and flocked Christmas trees line the perimeter, filling the air with a soft aroma of spruce and pine. Beneath them, fake snow covers the floor. Special lighting casts everyone in an icy blue glow, and either winter has finally arrived or they cranked the A/C because it’s freezing in here. I’m grateful for my long-sleeved gown as Ellie and I reach for flutes of champagne from a passing waiter.
We meet each other’s eyes and clink glasses.
“Here’s to hashtag dat gala lyfe,” she says with an arched brow.
I laugh and we turn to peruse the ballroom. Martha is greeting guests a few yards away. I know for a fact she’s been busting her butt putting the finishing the touches on the event all week, but it looks as if she’s just returned from an extended stay on some tropical island. Her blonde hair is swept up in an elegant French twist, her makeup is impeccable, and she’s wearing a dark navy gown that sparkles every time she moves. My dad is by her side, helping her with her hosting duties, looking very dapper in a fitted tuxedo. Side by side, they look like they were born for this role, and I can’t help but smile thinking about my mom off in the middle of a Peace Corps assignment with Jorge. To each their own.
We head in their direction to compliment Martha on a beautiful event, but I stop dead in my tracks when the crowd shifts and I spot Lacy just on the other side of her. Of course, as co-chairs, they would be greeting guests together.
I ask Ellie to assess how she looks since obviously I can’t objectively judge her outfit.
“Like a shitty Christmas ornament some kid make in art class,” Ellie says, surreptitiously studying her over her glass as we approach. “Her gown is hot pink and she’s wearing dangling earrings stuffed with so many diamonds that her earlobes are probably insured for the night.”
Everything she’s said so far is true, but the ensemble doesn’t stop there. Around Lacy’s shoulders is an over-the-top white fur wrap. Her blonde hair is curled in soft waves reminiscent of the 1920s. Her makeup looks like it’s been airbrushed on, making her complexion smooth and flawless.
“She doesn’t even look real,” Ellie points out before quickly adding, “and that’s not a good thing.”
My dad spots us just before we reach the small group and waves us over with a wide, proud smile. I dutifully oblige, though I’d be equally happy to run in the exact opposite direction. At least my dad has the decency to lay the compliments on thick.
“You both look absolutely stunning,” Martha adds, beaming. She turns to a few of her friends and proudly introduces us as her stepdaughters. Lacy’s gaze finds me and when I meet her eyes, she produces a villainous smile—at least that’s what it looks like to me. To the rest of the group, I’m sure it appears perfectly cordial.
“Hello Ellie.”
I smile sweetly. “It’s Brooke.”
She presses her hand to her chest in feigned embarrassment. “Of course, Brooke.”
“I’m Ellie,” my sister says, stepping forward and extending her hand to Lacy. “You must be Lacy, I’ve heard so much about you.”
Lacy arches a brow. “Have you now?”
Ellie beams, and I’m nearly struck silent by my sister’s beauty. She’s everything women like Lacy strive to be, and it feels good to have her by my side. “Yes. Brooke has told me everything.”
Lacy connects the dots quickly and realizes she has two adversaries before her. She gathers her dress in one hand and clutches her champagne flute in the other, presumably preparing to bolt, but then her gaze shifts just over Ellie’s shoulder and her eyes light up. I watch as her smile turns from sour to sweet. A candy coating oozes from her pores, and I realize a moment too late that there’s only one person who would elicit that sort of reaction from Lacy.
I hear his deep voice before I see him.
“Martha, you’ve really outdone yourself with this event.”
I watch Martha blush a perfectly adorable shade of pink. My skin tingles, and I inhale a deep breath before I glance over my shoulder and find James standing only a few feet away. My heart comes to a screeching halt, plummets, and then starts to race. I quickly blink twice, trying to reconcile the idea that he’s here, standing so near after so many months apart. He looks the exact same as the last time I saw him, except his hair is shorter, trimmed in a way that emphasizes his handsome features even more.
I must say his name because his gaze whips to me and his smile falters. His eyes widen in shock and his body visibly stiffens.
“Brooke.”
It’s a statement and a question. He clearly wasn’t expecting to see me here.
“Hi,” I say, sounding breathy and flustered. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
It’s the truth, and yet as soon as the words leave my lips, I wish I could reach out and steal them back.
He tilts his head down and frowns, and when he glances back up, his expression is stony and closed off. Then, I watch as a bitter smile spreads across his features.
“Apparently you haven’t looked up.”
I glance to where he’s pointing and see a large banner hanging there. In scrolling font it reads: Austin Philanthropic League 78th Annual Winter Gala. Beneath that is the BioWear logo. Now that I’m aware of it, I see it plastered on all the signage around the room. Apparently, his company is the event’s official sponsor.
Of course. Funny how Ellie conveniently left that part out when she first told me about the gala. I glare at her, but a deep frown and quick shake of her head says she didn’t know. Well then. I have no one to blame for this series of events, but it’s clear when I turn back to James and find his features haven’t softened that neither of us knows how to proceed from here. I’m attending the event to support Martha. He’s here because his company is a sponsor. This isn’t a planned reunion or reconciliation on either of our parts, and yet my body is humming with anticipation like maybe…it could be. I grip my hands into fists by my sides, trying to keep them from shaking too violently. I might as well be on the starting line of a race with the way my heart is pounding in my chest.
I open my mouth then close it again, at a complete loss for words.
Unfortunately, Lacy isn’t.
“James, you look so handsome! I told you a traditional tuxedo would look best.”
His steely brown eyes shift to her, and he manages a small smile.
“Will you come with me to get some champagne?” she asks with a pleading glance. “I’ve been greeting people for hours and I could really use a break.”
With all of us standing there watching him, he can’t very well turn her down. He nods gently and steps back with his arm outstretched, making way for her to join him. I shiver as she slithers past me. Her tactics are underhanded, but her point is clear: James belongs to her.
Martha nails that point home further when she chuckles in amusement. “God those two have been circling each other for years now. When will that man finally get some sense and marry the poor girl already?”
It turns out, he does. It’s gold and shimmery, and when I put on my dark green velvet dress back at home, I look like Holiday Barbie.
Ellie, not one to be outdone, looks ridiculously gorgeous in a dark red silk gown. The neckline falls just across her collarbones, but the back dips dangerously low. It’s equally as understated as my gown, and apparently, they’re from the same designer. Our coordination efforts pay off when we stroll into the W Hotel later that night and I catch our reflection in a floor-length mirror.
Damn.
“I bet this is what Gigi and Bella feel like 24/7.”
She grins and hooks her arm through mine. With her by my side, I feel confident as we enter the ballroom. Martha and the rest of the event organizers clearly ran away with the theme. It looks like they hired Elsa to turn the whole room into a winter wonderland. Icicles hang from the ceiling in densely packed clusters, and flocked Christmas trees line the perimeter, filling the air with a soft aroma of spruce and pine. Beneath them, fake snow covers the floor. Special lighting casts everyone in an icy blue glow, and either winter has finally arrived or they cranked the A/C because it’s freezing in here. I’m grateful for my long-sleeved gown as Ellie and I reach for flutes of champagne from a passing waiter.
We meet each other’s eyes and clink glasses.
“Here’s to hashtag dat gala lyfe,” she says with an arched brow.
I laugh and we turn to peruse the ballroom. Martha is greeting guests a few yards away. I know for a fact she’s been busting her butt putting the finishing the touches on the event all week, but it looks as if she’s just returned from an extended stay on some tropical island. Her blonde hair is swept up in an elegant French twist, her makeup is impeccable, and she’s wearing a dark navy gown that sparkles every time she moves. My dad is by her side, helping her with her hosting duties, looking very dapper in a fitted tuxedo. Side by side, they look like they were born for this role, and I can’t help but smile thinking about my mom off in the middle of a Peace Corps assignment with Jorge. To each their own.
We head in their direction to compliment Martha on a beautiful event, but I stop dead in my tracks when the crowd shifts and I spot Lacy just on the other side of her. Of course, as co-chairs, they would be greeting guests together.
I ask Ellie to assess how she looks since obviously I can’t objectively judge her outfit.
“Like a shitty Christmas ornament some kid make in art class,” Ellie says, surreptitiously studying her over her glass as we approach. “Her gown is hot pink and she’s wearing dangling earrings stuffed with so many diamonds that her earlobes are probably insured for the night.”
Everything she’s said so far is true, but the ensemble doesn’t stop there. Around Lacy’s shoulders is an over-the-top white fur wrap. Her blonde hair is curled in soft waves reminiscent of the 1920s. Her makeup looks like it’s been airbrushed on, making her complexion smooth and flawless.
“She doesn’t even look real,” Ellie points out before quickly adding, “and that’s not a good thing.”
My dad spots us just before we reach the small group and waves us over with a wide, proud smile. I dutifully oblige, though I’d be equally happy to run in the exact opposite direction. At least my dad has the decency to lay the compliments on thick.
“You both look absolutely stunning,” Martha adds, beaming. She turns to a few of her friends and proudly introduces us as her stepdaughters. Lacy’s gaze finds me and when I meet her eyes, she produces a villainous smile—at least that’s what it looks like to me. To the rest of the group, I’m sure it appears perfectly cordial.
“Hello Ellie.”
I smile sweetly. “It’s Brooke.”
She presses her hand to her chest in feigned embarrassment. “Of course, Brooke.”
“I’m Ellie,” my sister says, stepping forward and extending her hand to Lacy. “You must be Lacy, I’ve heard so much about you.”
Lacy arches a brow. “Have you now?”
Ellie beams, and I’m nearly struck silent by my sister’s beauty. She’s everything women like Lacy strive to be, and it feels good to have her by my side. “Yes. Brooke has told me everything.”
Lacy connects the dots quickly and realizes she has two adversaries before her. She gathers her dress in one hand and clutches her champagne flute in the other, presumably preparing to bolt, but then her gaze shifts just over Ellie’s shoulder and her eyes light up. I watch as her smile turns from sour to sweet. A candy coating oozes from her pores, and I realize a moment too late that there’s only one person who would elicit that sort of reaction from Lacy.
I hear his deep voice before I see him.
“Martha, you’ve really outdone yourself with this event.”
I watch Martha blush a perfectly adorable shade of pink. My skin tingles, and I inhale a deep breath before I glance over my shoulder and find James standing only a few feet away. My heart comes to a screeching halt, plummets, and then starts to race. I quickly blink twice, trying to reconcile the idea that he’s here, standing so near after so many months apart. He looks the exact same as the last time I saw him, except his hair is shorter, trimmed in a way that emphasizes his handsome features even more.
I must say his name because his gaze whips to me and his smile falters. His eyes widen in shock and his body visibly stiffens.
“Brooke.”
It’s a statement and a question. He clearly wasn’t expecting to see me here.
“Hi,” I say, sounding breathy and flustered. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
It’s the truth, and yet as soon as the words leave my lips, I wish I could reach out and steal them back.
He tilts his head down and frowns, and when he glances back up, his expression is stony and closed off. Then, I watch as a bitter smile spreads across his features.
“Apparently you haven’t looked up.”
I glance to where he’s pointing and see a large banner hanging there. In scrolling font it reads: Austin Philanthropic League 78th Annual Winter Gala. Beneath that is the BioWear logo. Now that I’m aware of it, I see it plastered on all the signage around the room. Apparently, his company is the event’s official sponsor.
Of course. Funny how Ellie conveniently left that part out when she first told me about the gala. I glare at her, but a deep frown and quick shake of her head says she didn’t know. Well then. I have no one to blame for this series of events, but it’s clear when I turn back to James and find his features haven’t softened that neither of us knows how to proceed from here. I’m attending the event to support Martha. He’s here because his company is a sponsor. This isn’t a planned reunion or reconciliation on either of our parts, and yet my body is humming with anticipation like maybe…it could be. I grip my hands into fists by my sides, trying to keep them from shaking too violently. I might as well be on the starting line of a race with the way my heart is pounding in my chest.
I open my mouth then close it again, at a complete loss for words.
Unfortunately, Lacy isn’t.
“James, you look so handsome! I told you a traditional tuxedo would look best.”
His steely brown eyes shift to her, and he manages a small smile.
“Will you come with me to get some champagne?” she asks with a pleading glance. “I’ve been greeting people for hours and I could really use a break.”
With all of us standing there watching him, he can’t very well turn her down. He nods gently and steps back with his arm outstretched, making way for her to join him. I shiver as she slithers past me. Her tactics are underhanded, but her point is clear: James belongs to her.
Martha nails that point home further when she chuckles in amusement. “God those two have been circling each other for years now. When will that man finally get some sense and marry the poor girl already?”
