43| Champagne and Caviar

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Alyssa

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I spend most of the evening getting ready. The pressure mounts in my chest as I slip on my dress, the silky ivory gown as light as feathers on my skin. My earrings go in next, beautiful diamonds my father had gifted me for my fifteenth birthday. Subtle, but not too subtle. My mother would always say less is more for this kind of event. You want people to acknowledge your beauty without making it obvious.

Subtlety is key.

And yet ironically, there is nothing subtle about this night. The party planners have been swanning about for days now, bringing in flowers and statues and waterfalls, all to impress a crowd of faceless businessmen who care about nothing but their money. Sometimes, it hurts to remember my dad is one of them.

My lipstick is the last thing to go on, a subtle plum color that sets off my bronzer. My role for the evening is all too apparent: be seen but not heard. And if I am a woman without a voice, I am determined to at least be noticed.

When I'm finally ready, I step back to study myself in the mirror. The dress is beautiful, clinging to my curves with an air of elegance and cutting off just below my knees. It is a dress fit for someone about to mingle with the riches, the kind I'd have no qualms about wearing before, but now something feels strange, like I'm standing in someone else's skin.

By the time I head downstairs, everything is ready to go. The waiters are already swanning around with trays of canapes, the fountains already spurting with water in the lobby. Covering every surface are white roses and lilies – Mom's favorite flowers. 

She turns from where she's examining the petals and lets her eyes roam over me. I hold my breath in the seconds that follow, waiting for her approval. "You look beautiful," she says, pulling me into a hug. "The guests will be arriving soon. I assume your date will be also?"

"Yeah," I say. "He should be here any minute."

She nods briefly but doesn't press the issue. Dad comes over now and hooks an arm around her waist, kissing her affectionately on the cheek. It's the most affection he's given her in months, and she's eating it up.

For a second, I have a flash of what a future with Justin would have been like. Sure, we'd have had the big house and the beautiful kids, but I'd have been miserable, filling my days with Pilates and juices and trying to forget about the fact my husband didn't love me. In some ways, I feel sorry for my mother. I used to ask myself why these things were so important to her, but now I realize.

This is all she has.

When the first few guests arrive, I eagerly scan their faces for Max, but he's still not here. I try not to show my disappointment as I grab myself a glass of champagne and mingle with the best of them. At one point, my friends from school arrive with their parents, so I straighten my shoulders and head over to Marnie with the nicest smile I can muster.

She smiles back as her eyes roam my dress somewhat enviously. "You look amazing," she says. "I bought that same dress last season. Beautiful, right?"

I resist the urge to sigh. Typical Marnie. "Not possible," I say instead. "This dress just came out. You might be thinking of something you bought off the rack. Oh, is that Tiana?" I spin around and head in the direction of Tiana before pulling her into a death grip. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Don't tell me Marnie is being a bitch already," she says. "Doesn't that girl ever take a day off?"

"Apparently not." We link arms and form some sort of team as we make our way through the guests. It's always easy to fake it when Tiana is here, like she gives me the strength to keep going. I may detest everything tonight stands for now, but I know how important impressions are to my father. As much as I wish I could turn my back on him, I can't. Not when he's family.

Nearly an hour passes, and I'm starting to think Max has bailed on me. My heart sinks – I'd hoped if there was one person I could rely on, it was him – but then I turn and see him standing at the entrance.

I have never seen someone look so good in a suit. Even Tiana elbows me and says, "Who's that?" before she takes a closer look and the penny drops. "Oh my god."

But I'm barely even listening. He scans the guests in search of someone in particular. It feels like that moment in a movie where his gaze reaches mine, and his eyes darken slightly as he takes in my dress. I've never been the type to feel embarrassed, but suddenly I'm naked in a room full of people, and he's the only one who's noticed.

Tiana and everyone else fades away as he closes the distance between us. I let out a breath, but I'm so nervous all of a sudden that it comes out slightly shaky as he wraps an arm around my waist.

"Hey," he says, voice low. "You look beautiful." He says it like he means it too, not just the kind of passing comment Justin would make when he wanted to sidetrack me. When Max tells me I'm beautiful, there's not a part of me that doubts it.

"Thank you. I can't believe how good your suit fits."

He smirks and says, "That your way of complimenting me?"

"No, I was complimenting myself for doing such a good job."

He laughs now, and it's a wonderful sound. I turn to Tiana, who has long since disappeared into the crowd, and turn back to Max. "So, welcome to the lion's den. Care for some caviar?" I grab one from a waiter's tray and hand it over, watching him inspect it with unease. But then he looks at me, and I almost see the moment he decides to trust me. He takes a bite, scrunches his nose, and reluctantly swallows what's in his mouth.

"I think I'm going to throw up."

I laugh and pull the appetizer from his hands before placing it on the table. "Disgusting, right? I don't know how anyone can eat it."

He gives me a look like I've just betrayed him. "Why did you make me eat it?"

I smile and pull him closer to whisper in his ear. "I'll make it up to you later."

He stills beneath my grip, and when I pull back, his eyes are dark and hooded. He's about to say something, but the sight of Maddie and Hayden walking over makes him pause.

They look like the perfect couple standing there. Not physically – Maddie is a little clean-cut compared to Hayden – but the way they behave. Little gestures, like the way Hayden holds her by the waist and looks over to flash her a grin. She smiles in return and straightens out his tie, which I'm certain is a clip-on.

The pair walk over as soon as they spot us, and Maddie pulls me into a hug. "You look amazing," I say. She's wearing a floaty lilac dress that cinches in at the cleavage and falls gracefully over her hips.

"Thanks," she says, "so do you."

There's a second where we just stand here, surrounded by popping champagne and fancy suits. A waiter with a plate full of appetizers brushes past Hayden and his eyes turn incredulous. "We're a long way from the gym."

Max grabs my hand, squeezing it tight, and the knots in my stomach loosen. "Like my dad used to say, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em," he says, and we each grab a glass of champagne before mingling with the guests.

To my surprise, Max is a natural with people. I'd been worried he'd feel awkward or I'd have to carry the conversation, but the moment I introduce him, it's like he comes alive, laughing and charming them all with his charisma. Here I was thinking they were going to rip him to pieces, but instead, they're under his spell. 

I start to think we're going to get through the night unscathed when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around, coming face to face with Richard Fallon's son, the one my parents wanted to pawn me off to.

"Hey," he says. He looks me over, but instead of enjoying his gaze like when Max did it, I'm repulsed by it. "You look nice." His eyes flit to Max now, who turns away from the guest he's speaking to watch us. "A glass of champagne, please."

My eyes narrow at the same time I slip an arm through Max's. "He's not a waiter. He's my date."

Carter raises his eyebrows. "Your parents told me you were single."

"Well, they were wrong." I grab Max's hand, about to lead him through the house and into the yard when I spot my mother mingling in the corner. Pissed that she'd spoken to Carter about me, I lead Max over in a bid to introduce him. "Mom, this is Max," I say. "Max, my mom."

She whips around and gives me a look that could turn me to stone. Finally, her eyes turn to Max and she flashes him a forced, tight smile. "Hello, Max. So lovely to meet you."

Max steps forward and shakes her hand, ever the gentleman. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Class."

She nods and turns back to the couple she'd been speaking to. "My daughter's very big on charity," she says. "Always bringing home strays."

And then they all laugh.

I think I see red. "Whereas my mother," I say, "just loves money too much to be charitable. In fact, she loves it so much, she'd—"

"Alyssa."

Max's voice comes warm and low in my ear. I fall silent with fury as my mother glares back, daring me to speak, and god help me I'm about to when Max shakes his head. Instead, I grab his hand, say a curt goodbye to my mother, and lead us outside.

The anger in my chest is consuming. I don't say a word as Max leads me under a willow tree and takes off his jacket before wrapping it around my shoulders. It's warm and smells just like his aftershave – I don't ever want to take it off.

"I'm sorry." I can't even look at him as I say it. I'm too ashamed. "What she said was–"

"You don't need to apologize." He reaches out now and brushes a thumb across my cheek. I raise my head, surprised there's not a sliver of anger in his expression. If I were him, I'd be furious.

"She was out of line," I say. "They all were."

"Hey." He pulls me toward him before wrapping his arms around me. "I've been called worse things than a stray."

I sigh and lean into his chest. It's still strange how easily I feel comfortable in his arms. I'm usually distrustful, the type to keep my guard up even around my friends, because in my world, you have to. But with him, it's impossible. As hard as I try to build up those walls, he breaks through every one of them.

"I'm guessing you won't want to go back in there," I say. I don't exactly want to either, but there's a stupid part of me that still has some loyalty for the people I'm supposed to call my family.

"I'll go wherever you go," Max says. "I thought that was obvious by now."

I swallow back the lump in my throat, surprised when he takes my hand. Something passes through us, a current that starts in my fingers and travels up to my arms. Maybe it's just my imagination, but his touch has the power to fill me with confidence – quiet and burning and bright. I give him a look as if to say thank you, and together we head back to the party.

A/N

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