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Missy’s just being cynical, as always.
“Could you at leasttryto be happy for them? It’s Bailey’s engagement party. She’s marrying Drew.”
Missy pauses, inspecting me and that fake smile threatens to crack.
And . . . now I’ve pissed her off.
“Fuck you.”
And then she’s gone.
I watch her storm through the crowd, toward the back of the venue where the gardens sit beyond the double French doors. All the while, the stepfather of the bride-to-be watches her, quietly sipping his own flute of champagne.
Ew.
I’ll admit, I don’t know much about the Carpenter sisters, save for what they show the outside world and that Marcus Parker, their stepfather, is one of my mother’s biggest supporters.
Oh, and that their brother is the hottest man alive.
I thought he might be here. I mean, itishis sister’s engagement party, but we’ve been here an hour and I’ve yet to see him and let me tell you . . . he sticks out in a crowd.
It’s not just the height—he’s practically a tree—but the glimmer of darkness that coats him like an invisible second skin. The pinnacle “bad boy” your mother doesn’t want you tobring home. The rough, blue-collar man that every woman from eighteen to ninety-nine can’t help but notice. It could be the tattoos on his arms and the way he doesn’t say anything more than is absolutely necessary. The body built like a machine, trimmed with muscles I didn’t even know existed.
It could also be the eyes like a hurricane rolling in off the coast and the growly voice that sends shivers down my spine.
I’ve yet to meet another man like him.
Unfortunately, I’ve also yet to meethimagain.
I don’t actually want todoanything about my little . . . crush on Mason Carpenter. Mom would lay an egg.
I just want to . . . look at him, I guess. It’s been a couple months, so I’m sure he’s all but forgotten about me and my pitiful dress soaking his truck’s interior, but I haven’t.
Too bad he’s not here.
With some guilt, I realize, I should go after Missy and see if we can be excused. I’ve had enough fake smiling for one night.
“Let her go.” My best friend, Michael and practically the only person I can talk to about Missy steps up beside me, holding out his hand. “Come on. Dance with me.”
Across the room, my mother is watching, smiling while in conversation with another woman. She nods to me, encouraging it.
I don’t like her ulterior motives.
In that moment, I feel the piercing gaze of everyone in the room, even the ones not looking at me. Part of me feels guilty for upsetting Missy. The other half feels guilty for refusing Michael’s subtle advances . . . again.
All’s not well in friendship paradise. Especially since my mother seems hellbent on playing Cupid.
Michael comes from a wealthy family, and I have my suspicions that Mom has had her sights set on him for me for a long time.
Joke’s on her. I could never be intimate with Michael. He’s too much like the brother I never had.
“Just let me go check on her.” I wince at the exasperation he hides well behind a colorful smile. “I’m sorry.”
I should change my name to HannahRunningGaines. It seems to be my solution to every awkward situation.
Run from the uncomfortable position my mother is putting me in with Michael. Run from Missy and her bad attitude. Run from Mom and her political BS.
Run from a party hosted by the Carpenters because I caught my boyfriend cheating.
