Chapter 22
Six days later, Linden reminds me that we RSVP’d to the Delaneys’ New Year’s Eve gala at their country house.
When she talks about Carter’s home, it’s with awe in her voice. “The whole place is so huge. It feels like a maze. Or a palace.”
She gives me facts like this is a guided tour. “It’s the largest private home on the East Coast. Carter’s great-grandfather built it just to prove he could.”
I nod and pretend like this is the first time I’ve heard it, but it’s not. Carter’s mother told me all the same things. A Wikipedia page filled in the rest.
New Year’s Eve has always been my favorite holiday. Fresh starts, fancy dresses, and kisses at midnight. When we were little, Linden and I would dress up in the clothes Grandee kept in the back of her closet and put on all the jewelry we never saw her wear and the brightest lipstick we could find.
We would talk about all the fancy parties we would go to when we got older. The boys we would dance with. And when midnight struck, the year would change, and we would be someone completely new.
I never expected to actually be living a completely different life.
Linden and I stand in one of the many extra bedrooms of Carter’s parents’ house, getting ready for the gala.
All our dreams have come true, but they feel hollow.
I remember standing in this house in a different version of time when I thought I was getting everything I wanted.
Six months later, I couldn’t even take a breath without feeling like each one of my dreams had been cut through with a knife and was bleeding out all over my hope.
The purple yarn Grandee tied around my wrist is the best indication of where I am. Who I am. Who I am not.
I am not Carter’s girlfriend. It’s appearing more and more like Linden is.
Linden places a gold cuff bracelet over the yarn and looks up, satisfied. “Perfect.”
“What? I can’t wear Grandee’s superstitions as jewelry to a black-tie party at Carter’s parents’ house?” It’s supposed to come out as a joke, but Linden doesn’t take it that way.
“You can wear whatever you want. We don’t care what people like Carter’s parents think of us.” She says it like a fact that cannot be erased. And there’s some comfort in that.
“I need this to go well.” I’m pacing the length of the bedroom that Carter’s mother told us we could use to get ready.
“Nieve, of course they’re going to love you. You don’t have to do anything to impress them.”
“But…” My voice cracks over the vulnerability in it. “What if they don’t?”
“Then they are fucking idiots and Carter will have to disown his parents.”
“Linny.”
“I honestly think he might. He likes you so much. It’s gross.”
“Linny.”
“We are Monroes. That’s better than any amount of money.”
That nervous, anxious girl, the one who got ready in this very room, feels a million miles away from me now.
I thought it would bother me more, being here. Without Carter. But still near him.
“Thanks, Linny,” I tell her as I squeeze her hand. She sits down at the vanity in front of an enormous oval mirror. Her makeup and hair accessories are scattered over the surface, like treasures that she picks up and examines.
“What’s up with you and Max?” she asks. Her hands are busy applying blush to the apples of her cheeks while she stares at her reflection, like she’s asking randomly, but I can tell she’s curious. “You two have been hanging out a lot.”
“Nothing.” Because I don’t know how to answer her. So I change the subject. “You never told me about the lake house.”
She takes a deep breath. “Oh yeah. It was good.” Her head cocks to the side. “Interesting. But mostly good.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means … Carter has been weird recently.”
“Weird how?”
“Just different.” The words come out too fast to be true. They’re said too confidently. She stands and slides into her shoes, her silver beaded dress falling over her curves.
I smooth the fabric covering my own, as if that can somehow change it. My dress is blush pink with a high neck and a low back. It feels plain next to Linden’s. Like always.
I must give her a look, because she rolls her eyes. “I’m fine, Nieve. It’s just Carter being Carter.”
Carter being Carter. I want to ask if something more is going on with them, something more than the label she’s started throwing around for fun, something real, but the words are stuck behind a wall of panic.
The fear of her telling me that they were always meant to be, when I know it can’t be true.
My heart beats inside my throat, a trapped thing.
Carter isn’t meant for Linden.
“It’s fine,” she lies. “Ready?”
I nod, and Linden and I make our way to the foyer of Carter’s home.
The sun has set, and the hallway we walk down has already darkened.
Candles flicker in candelabras, the golden light illuminating the large space and bouncing off the white marbled floor.
The double staircases that hug the walls are empty, and it looks as if everyone is already making their way toward the backyard.
Benji, Max, and Carter stand, clad in tuxedos, holding glasses of champagne next to the large open doors that lead outside. Max pulls at his collar, while Carter checks his watch—
Carter checks his watch—a Rolex that was his grandfather’s—and he gives a nervous glance around the room. He looks handsome in his black tuxedo.
I’m late. Damn it.
When he sees me, he gives me a tight smile before kissing my forehead.
“Hi,” I say, a little breathless.
“Hi,” he says back. “You look beautiful.”
But his eyes are still searching the room when he says it.
Linden grabs my hand, pulling me toward them with her. My pulse beats fast, and I assume it’s because I’m nervous about seeing Carter.
This is where Carter and I really became something more. This is where Carter kissed me under the fireworks and told me he loved me for the first time.
But it’s not Carter I’m looking at.
It’s Max.
He looks nervous as he adjusts his cuff links and walks over to me and hands me a flute of champagne. “You look—I like your dress.”
I can’t help but laugh. It ricochets through my chest. “Oh yeah?”
His eyes move to my wrist. “I—”
“You look stunning.” Carter comes to stand between us. His eyes rove up and down my body. “Truly.”
He’s not flirting when he says it, so his words feel more honest. It makes something in my chest bloom. He’s telling me I’m beautiful in front of everyone, and for some reason, that matters to me. Or … no. It just feels like it should.
Because I’m only looking at Max, to see what he thinks about what Carter’s said. Can Max tell something is strange with me? Does he notice the way I’m looking at him?
Thinking about how he stayed with me on Christmas? Made waffles in the morning? Does he know about my dream? And why does it feel special that Max said he liked my dress? More special than Carter telling me I look stunning.
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Carter tells me, guiding me toward the backyard. I focus on the way his hand feels on my back, warm on the bare skin. I should be flattered, but I keep glancing over my shoulder to see Max watching us walk away.
The garden feels warm from the heaters set up all over the large space.
They’re designed to look like marble statues.
Another inspiration from Carter’s mother’s trip to Versailles.
The fountain at the center is glowing with golden light, and everything seems to sparkle.
It’s as if winter has touched none of these plants, everything a vibrant green.
I drink my champagne in one gulp, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Carter approaches a man in a white tuxedo. “Nieve, this is my uncle Thomas. He’s been a large supporter of arts education.”
He reaches out a hand, and I shake it. I remember him as the man who let us borrow his beach house, the one who made vaguely sexist comments that were sly enough to deny. “Nice to meet you,” I say.
“You as well. I was a big fan of your aunt’s work. I’ve been trying to collect most of her pieces. A few got away from me.”
My head swims a bit. No, this isn’t right. Linden has most of her mother’s work. “My aunt?”
“Yes, her pieces on darkness are some of my favorites.”
I have no memory of these pieces, and even if I did, I know how important my aunt’s work is to Linden. They were the only pieces she got to keep of her mother. Tangible and real.
Thomas looks at Carter. “I thought you’d be here with Alexandria.”
The smile on Carter’s face is tight. “No, I haven’t seen her. But she’s here somewhere with her fiancé. I’m hoping to avoid them both.”
“Ah.”
Searching the patio for Linden, my eyes find Max. He stands with a hand in his pocket and he’s looking at the ground as Owen, our school’s president’s son, speaks to him, and I wonder what they could be talking about with such serious faces.
“What do you think?” It’s Carter’s voice that pulls me back and reminds me I’m in the middle of a conversation.
“What?” I ask.
“Spring break. What do you think about Florida? Nice and secluded. Get away from it all.”
“Isn’t that what everyone does?”
“My uncle has a house in the Keys.” The way he says the Keys makes me feel like I’ve said something stupid. “It’s not the same.”
I know it’s not. We spent the entire break at his uncle’s beach house … last time.
“Yeah, maybe.” I try to smile at Carter’s uncle, but everything feels wrong.
“It might be nice for us all to get away before the Inheritance Alumni Festival.”
My stomach tightens like a fist. “I’m not going.” I will never go to the festival. I will never spend the day hanging out at the river, celebrating the end of school. Never.
“Whoa. Okay.” He looks a little taken aback by the force of my tone. “You’ll be missed. And if you change your mind, I’ll be there.” He says it with a wink. Something he thinks is charming. He can’t see the ice in my veins, the way my heart beats loud in my ears.
Fear. I am afraid.