Chapter Eighteen
I’m barely out of my car when Jonathan walks down his steps. I become a gaping guppy behind my open car door.
He’s wearing a dark suit with a grey-ish blue tie. His usually disheveled waves are combed to the side in a stylish look that belongs on a poster on my wall.
“Hi,” he says when I’ve yet to move or speak, held frozen in mesmerization. He sets a soft kiss on my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” I reply, then fumble to correct, “I mean, handsome. More like breathtaking, really. I don’t think I’ve breathed yet.” He chuckles. I take a breath. “You look really good.”
“Thanks,” he replies. “Had this in the back of my closet from that dinner with the Penn State swim coach. Was nervous it wouldn’t fit.”
“It fits perfect.” I admire him openly. He watches me with a quirk of his mouth. “I thought I’d come in and meet your parents.”
“They’re… not home.” I spot his younger brother peeking his head between the curtains. I wave. He ducks away, letting the curtains fall back into place.
“Will I meet them… ever?”
Jonathan nods. “Just not tonight, okay?”
Where are we going exactly?” Jonathan asks when we cross into Wetherford, where there’s an abundance of trees and gated driveways to hide the large homes. It’s where my brother attended Norton Academy, among the elite, which didn’t help his superiority complex.
Hollis is mostly middle class with a few neighborhood exceptions on either side of the spectrum.
The Prescotts are one of a handful of generational families that have roots in Hollis since…
well, forever. My dad came back, after practicing law at some big firm in the city, to take care of my grandmother after his dad passed.
Bringing my mom with him. She grew up in a small town in Connecticut, escaping to New York in hopes of making a name as an interior designer after graduating from Drexel.
Her design firm was hired to redecorate the offices where my dad worked, and…
that’s their abbreviated meet-cute. They fell in love over drapes and law books, or something like that.
“This couple’s hosting the fundraiser at their home. I’ve never met them—that I can remember anyway. Guess they know a lot of people in the district.”
I slow the car as the numbers on the mailboxes increase, searching for their driveway. It becomes obvious when I spot the flow of cars, taking a right up ahead.
“What should I expect?” Jonathan asks.
“Well, a lot of smiling and nodding and pretending you care what they’re saying. Answering as few questions as you can get away with.” I shoot him an apologetic wince. “Just look confident, and you’ll survive.”
“Survive? That’s really helping my confidence.” He lets out a humorless chuckle.
“Sorry. You’re helping me survive this. If you and I can just hide in some obscure room without being noticed for the next couple of hours, I’ll owe you big.”
He grins at this, making me nervous.
“What is that look for?”
“Just thinking about what I want in return.”
I blush instantly.
“Hey! Where did your mind go?” Jonathan accuses playfully. “I was thinking you could help me with my history paper or bring me breakfast after my morning swim sessions.”
“Sure you were.”
He laughs. “You obviously weren’t.” He takes my hand and kisses it. “Wow. I thought I knew you. Guess you’ve been holding out on me.”
My lips curve into a tight smile. I’ve been fantasizing about him for years. Mostly PG-13. Mostly. My cheeks burn again at the exact moment my door is opened by the valet. He smiles down at me, and I only get redder.
Jonathan is out and by my side faster than I can get the ticket. “Thanks,” he says, and I shoot him a curious look. “Didn’t want him thinking that blush was for him.” He takes my hand, and we turn toward the house that’s really not a house. Unless five families live here.
“Whoa,” Jonathan breathes out as we admire the large stone estate.
It’s twice the size of our family’s home with its expansive veranda and multiple eaves.
The perimeter is dramatically uplit, showcasing the manicured shrubs and floor-length windows.
“We can definitely find a place to get lost in here.”
My jacket is barely off when my mother rushes over to fetch me. “There you are. Where have you been?” Then she notices Jonathan taking the ticket from the coat-check attendant. Her voice becomes a hiss of a whisper. “What is he doing here? I thought you had to drive yourself because of dance.”
I didn’t mention that I invited Jonathan to tonight’s event because I knew she’d say no.
But I also know she won’t make a scene now that he’s here.
Permission and forgiveness, right? I’m sure I won’t be as brave later, when she has me alone and is lecturing me about appearances.
From the subtle glances of admiration he’s already receiving—so disturbing—he’s making all the right impressions, so maybe she’ll forget about the permission part and go right to forgiveness.
“Hi, Mrs. Prescott,” Jonathan greets her warmly, sliding his hand into mine. It feels so natural, yet my heart leaps every time it happens. “I’m glad I could be here to support Mr. Prescott, especially after everything he’s done for me.”
My mother spreads her politician smile across her face. She inspects him critically. “It’s nice to see you again, Jonathan. That suit is well tailored.”
I try to keep the bewildered look from creasing my face. What kind of comment is that?
“Thank you.”
“Sadie, we need to take some photos with the Winstons.” I guess that’s who’s hosting the event. I didn’t remember their names. “And please smile.”
So… I turn it on. The smile that slips on my face as easily as socks on my feet. It’s a reflex. It doesn’t meet my eyes. Or come from my heart. Jonathan shoots me a curious look, like he doesn’t understand what I’m doing. And I just smile brighter, exaggerating it just a bit. He laughs.
My mother turns around, and I shift it back into place. Jonathan leans down to whisper into my ear, “I get it now.”
I can sense how out of place he feels as we follow my parents around the room.
My father shakes hands, and my mother introduces me without acknowledging Jonathan.
His posture is tall and stiff. His face neutral.
But his eyes follow me everywhere. He holds my purse while I stand with poise beside my parents, fighting not to look over at him.
No one approaches him, thankfully. But he stands out, receiving curious glances from around the room.
And more of the disturbing, lingering ones from some of the women. Still gross.
We get a brief moment of reprieve when Mr. Winston asks my father into another room to talk to some donors.
I gratefully relieve servers of hors d’oeuvres, loading up two cocktail napkins, while Jonathan waits at the bar for sodas.
We meet in the far corner of the ballroom. Seriously. A ballroom, in their home!
“I’m starving,” I say before practically inhaling a stuffed phyllo thing. The cheese explodes in my mouth, and I nearly groan.
“I’m glad I ate before coming. I wasn’t sure if they’d have food.” He picks up a skewered piece of beef and bites it off the pick. “Food’s good, just… tiny.”
I laugh. “Thank you so much for being here.”
“You’ve thanked me probably a hundred times tonight.” He sets his drink on a nearby table and slides his arm around my waist. “I’m glad I’m here.”
I gawk at him. “You can’t be serious. Have you been drinking?”
He laughs. “No. I mean, I get to be a part of your life that I’ve never seen before. It’s like I only know one side of you. And there’s so much more.”
“And you like that? This?” I scan the room. The tuxes and gowns. The posturing. My eyes land on the man coming out of the room with my father, and I blink. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
“I like being with you, no matter where that is. So… yes.” His lips find my temple. Then he realizes I’m unresponsive. I’m a statue, staring.
He follows my unwavering gaze. “What the—”
Before he can finish, they’re standing in front of us. “Sadie, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
“I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve met,” my father says with an odd chuckle that draws my attention. But his eyes are darting between Jonathan and his father.
“We’ve said hello in passing in town. I’m usually working.
Trying to set a good example for my son.
” He turns his attention to Jonathan, mirth dancing in his dark eyes as they catch the light of the chandeliers.
“Surprised to find you here. And that you’re dating Eli’s daughter.
” He flashes me a smile full of charm that nearly takes my legs out from under me.
Not who I was expecting. “What are you doing with this guy?” He laughs, full of mischief and teasing.
Without the harsh edges or snide remarks I’ve been prepared for.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Reeves,” I say, offering my hand. I can’t even manage to put on the smile—I’m so shocked.
He takes my hand in both of his and holds it gently. “The pleasure is all mine. And please call me Hal.”
“Of course,” I manage to reply with just a hint of a smile.
He has the dark, penetrating stare of his son.
They reach into the depths of a person to inspect their soul.
Hal flashes a smile that’s capable of disarming the most hardened heart.
He’s Jonathan in thirty years, just a little taller.
And he feels comfortable in this room even if he’s not exactly like anyone here.
His calloused hands and weathered lines on his face are indicative of work that comes with hard labor.
He’s earned his success with sweat and backbreaking hours of dedication.
But he lords over this room like he belongs. Probably even more than the others—those who’ve been handed their fortunes and comfy chairs behind polished desks, tied to lineage and privilege.