23. Scarlet
Chapter 23
Scarlet
On the way home from work, I rest my head against the car window, watching as side streets pass by. I’d stayed late again, trying desperately to come up with a believable reason why I can’t go to the ceremony tonight. It’s the season’s most extravagant event; everyone will be expected to be there. At least I know I can bail on pretty much everything after this.
Of course, it’s on my freaking birthday. All I want is to stay at home in my pj’s, watching trashy TV. Is that too much for a girl to ask? Instead, I’m going to be paraded about like some kind of display piece for everyone to examine.
Oliver pulls in front of my town house, coming around the hood to open my door. He gives me a warm smile before passing me a small box. “Happy birthday, Ms. Laurent.”
“Thanks, Ollie.” Tears prickle at the back of my eyes, and I fake a laugh to cover the slight wobble in my voice. After years of keeping today a secret, I didn’t think there was anyone who even knew about it.
“It’s Oliver, miss,” he corrects like he always does.
“Oh, come on. You even got me a present. Can’t you be normal just one time?”
He arches a brow. “Do you want me to take it back?”
“Don’t you dare.” I tug the pink box to my chest, protecting it with my other arm.
He bows his head slightly, his steady professionalism back in place. “After you, miss.”
The cracked glass pane has already been replaced. Everything looks back to normal, no signs of any damage. The only difference is the thin steel threads woven through the glass, making it shatterproof.
Oliver does his standard checks while I wait in the hallway, back pressed up against the wall, and open the small cardboard box. My chest tightens. He got me a single cupcake, with swirled pink frosting and sprinkles on top. When was the last time I had any sort of cake?
“Do you like it?” Oliver asks, startling me. I didn’t notice him approaching.
I smile at him. “It’s great. Thank you.”
“Of course, miss. I’ll be back to pick you up at seven sharp.” He says it like the gift is no big deal, disappearing into his car.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck staring at the little piece of confectionery. It’s almost too pretty to eat. Almost.
I lean against the counter, getting ready to dig in, when I see the candle tucked in the side, along with a pack of matches and a small note.
Happy birthday, Ms. Laurent. May all your wishes come true.
I read it over again. It doesn’t feel like something Oliver would say. A little too wistful for a guy like him. I laugh, inserting the candle into the top of the cake. He probably googled the top five things to write on a birthday card.
Happy birthday to me. The acrid smell of sulfur burns my nose as I light the wick, wax rapidly melting down the side. I think over the note right before I blow out the candle.
I’m twenty-five, own my own place, am college educated, a lawyer, and respected at my job. Nearly all of my dreams from all those years ago came true. So why is there a hollowness in my gut?
I did all of the things I set out to accomplish, but now I’m standing on the precipice of now what? Warmth fills my chest as I remember the other things I told Matthias while we were being held captive. I want the family I never had. Parents who love their children for being who they are and not what they can be used for. I want to hear the pitter-patter of feet running up stairs or the bubbling sound of laughter.
I toss the candle into the sink along with the wrapper before biting into the moist sponge-like cake. The sweet taste of strawberries fills my mouth. I moan and take another bite, wiping the icing off my lips with my thumb. I’m not sure I want to know where Oliver picked this up because I can totally see myself buying out the store.
My phone beeps, the alarm telling me I’m out of time and need to get ready. I finish the last morsel of cupcake before tossing the wrapper into the garbage and heading to my room.
It takes me two hours before I’m ready to put on my dress. The emerald drapes diagonally across my legs, with a gold band around the middle cinching the waist. I picked it out to go with the Grecian theme of this evening. I may not want to go, but like hell I’m not going to look good while I’m there.
I stand, adjusting my dress so it slithers to the floor, the tall slit traveling up my thigh. It perfectly fits every curve. Unfortunately, that includes the soft pouch of my stomach. I refuse to be embarrassed, even though I’d prefer to have at least two layers of Spanx on.
Oliver calls out from downstairs, and I take one last glance in the mirror. I’ve curled my hair and pulled it up, letting pieces fall around my face. The entire look has a soft, romantic vibe to it.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. All I have to do is get through tonight, and then I won’t have to worry about any of this until next season.