Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
T he next week passed by in another slow montage, where I spent my days either walking the grounds with Sumner or going to Nancy’s with Sumner. Either way, he and I spent nearly every moment of the day at each other’s sides, so much so that when we parted for the day, it felt… strange. Him stopping at his own hotel room door, me continuing to mine. He would wait until I had my own door unlocked before entering his room.
A time or two, we ordered room service and ate it in one of the common rooms. Another time, Sumner even coerced me to play a round of tennis with him on the court, which we were both quite terrible at. I’d thought that the night my father came into my room, and he realized the truth behind the mask of Margot Massey, that our friendship would crumble. It was almost like the opposite happened. It felt like his whole life had begun to revolve around mine—or, rather, my whole life had begun to revolve around Sumner Pennington.
I wasn’t sure if I was the sun or he was, but either way, spending time with him left me warm, an Ice Queen with a melting heart.
A dangerous thing.
I knew I enjoyed spending time with him more than I should’ve, but I kept it all to myself. The fluttering that appeared each time he touched my hand, the tingling that surfaced whenever his eyes traced my smile. I tucked it all away, relishing it in secret. It was enough, for now.
Saturday night, less than an hour before the event my mother was hosting began, I was having an existential crisis as I stared in the mirror. I’d thrown a slight curl into my hair and applied a bit of makeup, like how I used to do in high school, but it wasn’t the hair or makeup that left me feeling like a fish out of water.
It was the white cocktail dress that currently stretched out on my bed. I could see it in the reflection of my bathroom mirror. I’d known my mother was sending an outfit for tonight, and I’d figured it would be a dress, but it wasn’t what I’d been expecting. Which, in hindsight, was ridiculous.
It was beautiful, to be fair. It was a Malstoni, with an elastic-shirred bodice that shrunk at the waist to illuminate the wearer’s silhouette, with little bows that tied at the top of the thin straps. Up close, the fabric had an almost shimmer to it, one that would look lovely in direct sunlight. I dragged the tip of my finger along it, wondering when my mother would’ve bought this.
When I put it on, the Malstoni draped over my body perfectly, almost as if my mother had used my exact specifications. The material was soft against my skin and flowing, the hemline falling an inch above my knobby knees, exposing the pale skin of my legs. The white, of course, was to give Aaron “bride vibes,” I was sure. It was strappy, showing off my arms, my chest, far, far more skin than I normally ever showed. I craved the comfort of a suit jacket, the security of the fabric.
My phone, which I’d left lying on my bathroom counter, chimed. when I retrieved it, I found a text from my mother, demanding to know where I was.
My stomach clenched, but I smoothed my palm down the front of my dress, imagining that I was smoothing a palm down my nerves. I quickly typed back that I’d retrieve Sumner and then be down.
It was utterly ridiculous how nervous I felt to walk into the event. I didn’t care in the slightest if these people thought me ugly, pretty, whatever —so why did I feel as though I could’ve thrown up? All over the beautiful white gown. My mother would’ve been furious.
Drawing a breath and lifting my chin, I headed out to get my shoes. You’ve got this .
Sumner’s room was only a few feet away from my door, and I stopped in front of his. I hadn’t seen him since last night, and eagerness bubbled in my chest, so much so that I held myself back for a moment. After Mimosa Morning, my mother had made it clear that instead of trying to multitask for events, Sumner was to be my shadow.
That should’ve been the case from the start, but I liked that I’d made her regret a decision.
You’ve got this , I thought again, and knocked.
When the door swept inward, the air in my lungs went with it .
Though I knew Sumner was attending tonight’s event and not working it, I’d still been foolishly expecting him to greet me in his Alderton-Du Ponte uniform. There wasn’t a trace of teal or khaki in sight, nor any denim. When he opened the door, I found Sumner wearing a deep navy suit. He had the perfect frame to wear a suit but not appear swallowed by or stuffed into it, the dark color flattering his complexion and the golden brown of his hair. Ungelled, as always, and tousled over his forehead. His jacket was unbuttoned, but his white dress shirt underneath was fastened up to his throat, missing its necktie.
Sumner in a suit tailored to him was exactly as I’d always expected: breathtaking.
“I know,” Sumner said with a smug air, eyes closed as he grabbed his suit jacket by the lapels and giving the fabric a tug. “Don’t I clean up—” He’d opened his eyes, and when he saw me, his words cut off.
“You clean up very well,” I agreed.
But Sumner didn’t look as though he heard me. His lips parted as his eyes roamed from my face down my body, somewhat mimicking the roving gaze he’d had the night he found me in my nightgown. This time, though, instead of looking away in embarrassment—and flushing—Sumner swallowed hard. I nearly shivered under his stare, the intensity of it enough to feel like a physical touch on my skin.
“What are you wearing?” he demanded, almost sounding accusatory.
I lifted my chin. “What does it look like?”
“Why aren’t you wearing a suit? ”
“What’s wrong with the dress?”
“It’s not you.”
Of course it wasn’t. It wasn’t as if it mattered anyway, though, whether or not I was myself for one night. “My mom wanted me to wear it.” I ran my fingers over the bumps in the dress’s fabric, the material soft. It still almost felt like I wasn’t wearing anything, though, like I was going out of the house half dressed. “Mrs. Astor wore a dress the last day I saw her. Even though it wasn’t another suit, I thought she looked stylish. Maybe it’s okay to wear both. Dresses can be pretty, too.”
Sumner didn’t reply, still taken aback by my appearance.
“Unless you think I look hideous.”
“You look beautiful.” He spoke without hesitation, the words almost compelled out of him. An emotion I didn’t recognize knotted in his eyes, and he swallowed hard. “Just like you always do.”
The compliment wasn’t anything world-shaking, but it still warmed me. I had to stop looking at him, stop thinking about how he looked with the expensive fabric stretching over his body. His golden hair was a bit more styled than usual, but he hadn’t seemed to have mastered gelling it back, because some pieces fell over his forehead and into his eyes.
“You’re missing your tie,” I mused with a smile I couldn’t fight; I could feel it light up my face, all because of the man before me.
“I was in the middle of picking one out when you knocked.” Sumner shook his head, almost as if to clear it. “Your mother brought over a whole suitcase full. It’s something I would’ve expected you to do, honestly.”
A suitcase full of neckties? “This I have to see,” I said, brushing past Sumner and entering his hotel room without further permission.
“Wait,” he called after me, but didn’t attempt to stop me.
Sumner’s hotel room was different from mine. Though his was a suite, it was more of a studio style, with only a half wall separating his bedroom from the rest of the space. His bed, though, mirrored mine. No wonder his alarm was loud every morning; our beds were practically back-to-back. From here, I could see the white hotel stock duvet laid neatly over his bed, but in a way that it was clear he’d done it himself, not housekeeping. His seating area looked much like mine, though with less square footage.
The room itself was clean and completely lacking personal touch, but then again, did Sumner really have time to decorate, what with playing cater waiter/secretary/babysitter?
Not that I had room to talk. The most I’d decorated is my closet.
Though his one point of decoration was a suitcase open on his glass coffee table. “She sent this today?” I asked as I stepped closer to it.
“Yesterday.”
The suitcase was more of a carry-on size, but it was indeed filled with rolled neckties. They were all Gilfman, judging by the faint motif most of them sported in the fabric. Some were a flat color, some were silk, and there was even one from their limited watercolor-inspired collection they did a few years ago.
“My mother is responsible for dressing you?” I asked, trying to hide my interest among the neckties.
“To a point. When she hired me, she told me I’d need at least one suit for situations like this, but left me to pick it out on my own.”
It seemed like quite the present, luggage full of name brand neckties. Their cheaper ones could easily go for a hundred dollars a pop, and for her to gift at least twenty of them to a staff member was beyond strange. My suspicion of it all prickled once more.
“And you got a suit tailored without me?” I picked up a burgundy silk tie with a paisley motif that was only a shade or two lighter than the fabric itself. I admired its sheen in the hotel room light, lifting to examine it against Sumner’s suit. “Me, the suit queen?”
“Because I thought about this moment.” When I looked past the necktie to Sumner’s eyes, I found them shimmering just as delicately as the fabric. “I wanted to surprise you.”
I leaned forward and reached the silk tie around his neck, thinking about which I would’ve preferred. As fun as it might’ve been to see Sumner try on different fabrics and silhouettes, I preferred this moment, too. “I’m probably the only person who would be pleasantly surprised by a suit.”
Sumner held perfectly still. “You’re the only person I’d want to surprise with one.”
My hold on the tie fumbled.
Sumner looked down at me as my fingers knotted his tie, though my actions were slow. Something about the way the silk fabric glided in my fingertips seemed delicate… intimate. Maybe it was how closely I stood to him; close enough to smell the aftershave that seeped from his warm skin. I held the front of his tie loosely between my fingers, passing the wide end through the knot I created. My pulse stirred as I tightened the knot, easing it up toward the collar of his shirt and adjusting the length. I smoothed the dark tie flat down the front of his shirt, trying to ignore the firmness of his chest beneath the fabric.
I swallowed, hoping it was only obvious to me.
Nancy would laugh. Of course, tying a necktie was a turn on.
“Lovely,” I said as I folded the collar of his shirt down, making sure it was symmetrical. My knuckles brushed his throat. “Don’t let anyone whisk you away tonight—and trust me, with how expensive you look, someone will try. More than likely, Ms. Jennings. You belong to me.”
Sumner drew in a quiet breath. “Yes, ma’am.”
Wouldn’t it be a dream? I found myself thinking as my hands lingered on his collar. I pictured laying them flat on his shoulders, to feel their curve that was hidden beneath the thin material of his dress shirt. I pictured my hands moving from his shoulders to underneath his suit jacket. I pictured taking that half step closer. Wouldn’t just be lovely like champagne?
If he was Aaron Astor?
It was a thought I hadn’t been able to rid myself of, even as I tried. The possibility of it, while outlandish, was too sweet. It was a dream I let myself envision, only briefly. If Sumner was Aaron, it would mean that he came here intentionally to get to know me. He asked my parents to get close to me, learned information about me, tried to sway me toward him. On one hand, it should’ve felt like a betrayal, sneaking close under the disguise of someone else.
But, in that dream, I didn’t feel betrayed at all. If Sumner was Aaron… I wouldn’t have been hurt. I would’ve been relieved .
I dropped my hands, stepping back.
Sumner offered his arm to me. “Shall we?”
It was a fairytale moment, a princess in a beautiful gown entering a social event on the arm of a prince. I felt like an imposter, wearing the white dress, thinking the thoughts I was, but I allowed myself to think them anyway. For tonight, just this once, and I would take it to my grave, but I’d let myself feel like a princess with Prince Charming.
Curving my hand on the inside of his jacket sleeve, I held on, trying to ignore the flutter that tickled my chest once more. “We shall.”
You can do this, I told myself as we stepped into the hallway and headed for the elevator doors. My footsteps in my sandals only clacked a little, like little ticks of a clock. You can do this. You never care what anyone else thinks of you .
My stomach dipped as the elevator doors slipped shut, a shiver working its way across my skin. Without thinking, I reached out and took ahold of Sumner’s hand, which hung at his side, pressing my palm against his and wrapping my fingers tight.
Sumner lifted his chin ever so slightly, but didn’t look down at me. Instead, he just returned the grip. Comfort . “What is this event for again?” Sumner asked as the elevator descended. Our reflections were thrown around the space, all glitz and glamour.
It was hard to keep my eyes off his figure, but I forced myself to look at my own. “I don’t remember.” I wasn’t even sure my mother even told me. “It was last minute. It wasn’t on the social calendar at the beginning of the month, I didn’t think.” Which was strange, given the fact that Annalise’s wedding was next weekend. I would’ve thought they’d keep from booking anything last minute.
Sumner made a soft humming noise. Both of our hands were back at our sides when the elevator doors opened, and good thing too, because when they parted, they revealed my mother waiting on the other side. She’d been poised toward the elevator, but slouched back onto her heels as if who’d she’d been expecting hadn’t been on.
And then she blinked. “ Margot ,” she gasped in realization, her eyes widening near saucer wide. “Oh, my heavens, you look beautiful ! More than I’d imagined!”
I looked down at the way the dress fell against my figure, down at my Claire-Haute sandals. In a pathetic way, my mother’s compliment affected me more than I should’ve let it. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d called me beautiful, and even though I was wearing a face full of makeup, and even though she only wanted me to be beautiful to impress a man, it still felt good.
And I hated that it felt good.
She fluffed her own hand down the front of my dress, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle. She then went from studying the dress to the jewelry that draped against my throat. One dipped down into the dress’s neckline, drawing the eye to my cleavage. Satisfied with that, she looked to my earrings, and then to my hair. Every inch of me was analyzed, scrutinized, and ultimately passed her test. “Margot,” she whispered, speaking to me without looking in my eyes. “You are very beautiful.”
The compliment once more felt like a balm to something prickly inside me, even though I knew her motives behind it. “The women at the country club wouldn’t recognize me.”
“Of course not.” My mother gently brought a section of my curls around my shoulder, laying them delicately against my collarbone. “You’re dressing like a woman for once.”
The comforting balm became like ice.
“And you, Sumner—very handsome.” My mother’s eyes, though, flicked to Sumner, a slight curve to them. “The suit is very striking on you.”
His expression was unreadable. “Thank you.”
“Well, come on, come on!” My mother grabbed my hand, and I couldn’t help but wonder when the last time that happened. “Let’s go show you off.”
I pulled my hand from her grip, though, and settled back onto Sumner’s arm. I felt far more comfortable with his touch than hers. He settled into the embrace easily, tucking my arm close against his side. My mother didn’t seem too bothered by my brush off, but instead whisked us toward the country club.
I had to hold myself back from trembling as we walked nearer and nearer to the entrance of the grand ballroom. I could already hear the music trickle from the open doors, the soft and beautiful piano that people were no doubt dancing and chattering to.
My mother scanned the grand ballroom before setting off somewhere, but I didn’t see where she’d set her sights. I was far too concerned with staring at my shoes.
“Clothes don’t change who you are,” Sumner reminded me softly, and with his other hand, he patted where I gripped his jacket sleeve. “You’re still you, Margot Massey.”
“I don’t feel like me.”
“Well, you look like you. Just you in a dress.”
“Margot?” Mrs. Holland exclaimed as she passed by the ballroom’s doorway, stumbling upon me first with a champagne glass in her hands. A spark of unease shot through my chest. “Oh, why don’t you look lovely! Wow. I wouldn’t have recognized you if it weren’t for your gigolo there.” She looked at him with flirty eyes.
For once, I had no idea what to say in response. It was as if my confidence were embedded in the fabric of my suits, in the stitching—without it, I was at a loss.
Sumner chuckled good-naturedly at her tipsy joke. “Good to see you again.”
Mrs. Holland flushed, tickled with the attention. “Don’t stand in the doorway,” she insisted, urging us forward with her free hand. “Come, come. You’ll want to come in, trust me.”
Sumner took a small step forward, allowing me to decide if I’d continue or book it back into the safety of the hallway. I allowed him to lure me inside, a death grip on his arm. It was almost comical how sick to my stomach I felt over the thought of walking in wearing a dress. I was too busy considering my knobby knees, my pale skin.
“Everyone’s staring at me,” I whispered to Sumner, the anxiety behind my ribs tightening.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the hair above my ear. “Maybe they’re staring at me.”
I turned to look at him, to give a tense laugh, but he hadn’t leaned back, and I’d brought my face directly to his. Only an inch separated our mouths for a moment, energy causing me to still.
Until Sumner straightened, pulling away with a subtle clearing of his throat. “Want to dance?”
“No.” I didn’t even hesitate. “I want champagne.”
“Come on, dance with me first and fulfill my Prince Charming dreams before I turn back into a pumpkin.”
“The carriage turns back into a pumpkin,” I said, trying to ignore the fact that we’d shared the same thought, Sumner being a prince. My prince. I tried to shove the thought down. “You’d turn back into a cater waiter.”
“The horror.” Sumner picked up my hand, though, his long fingers curving underneath mine. “Dance with me before it happens.”
My feet instinctively dug in at first, sandals slipping over the shiny ground. “I’ve attended hundreds of these events, and I’ve never once danced at them,” I said almost desperately as he led me out onto the floor, pulse fluttering. Faceless, become faceless , I willed the crowd, but I couldn’t quite seem to dodge the eyes. “It—I won’t be any good.”
“Well, I’ve attended two of these Alderton- Du Ponte events now, and I, too, have never danced at them.” Sumner’s teasing demeanor was designed to calm me, I knew, just from the way he peered into my eyes. His blue irises were an almost ooey-gooey sort of color, pupils large. “Just focus on me.”
I grumbled, but still allowed him to pick up my left hand and lay it on his shoulder, and allowed him to pick my right hand up. His other hand slid around my body and rested at a respectable spot on my lower back.
Though Sumner didn’t know how to hold a serving tray, he knew the dancing form for an event like this.
His hand pressed me a bit closer, and from there, he took a step, leading me into it. “Not too bad,” he murmured with a smug smile, gazing down at me. “Not terrible.”
I choked on a laugh, because even though the nerves were still there, being in Sumner’s arms felt like a safe haven, a light that chased away the darkness. We’d formed our own little bubble, and I focused on the way he looked at me. I couldn’t have cared less about the people around us, about where my mother ran off to. Nothing but the way we seemed to move together like magnets.
I’d rather do things I don’t want to than find out what that other life looks like, I’d said to Sumner the night my father had come into my room.
What if it’s better? Sumner had asked. That other life.
What if this was what that other life looked like? Sumner Pennington, in all his golden-haired, puppy dog-eyed glory, on the other side. His hand in mine as if it’d always belonged there, as if it were the other half of my own .
Or what if… what if he belonged in this life? What if the universe, just this once, let me have both worlds? I would’ve given anything for my conspiracy theory to be right, that the man I looked up to now was, by some miracle, Aaron Astor. In that moment, I would’ve given anything for Sumner Pennington. Given up anything.
I looked up at him, and for one final, foolish moment as our eyes locked, I hoped. I hoped that the wish turned out to be true, that maybe, just maybe, the universe would tip its hat in my favor just this once. I’d done everything requested of me, and this was going to be my ultimate reward.
I lingered in the arms of the golden-haired man, relishing in that foolish hope for one last time.
Sumner’s hand around the small of my back pressed me just a fraction of an inch closer, and a delirious sort of heat swamped my skin. Wouldn’t it be just champagne?
A new voice broke my thoughts apart, chasing away the dream with reality. “Mind if I cut in?”
I didn’t recognize the male voice, and when I looked over, I didn’t recognize his face, either. The man seemed in his mid-to-late twenties, dark hair was cut short off the back of his neck, styled and kept out of his eyes. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t devastatingly handsome either. Just… average, with a wide nose and a curved jaw.
His megawatt smile was full of pearly white teeth, as if waiting for me to jump into his arms. “I do mind, actually,” I replied, tightening my grip on Sumner’s hand and shoulder. It was then that I realized he’d gone stiff.
Sumner’s voice was low. “Margot?—”
“I don’t make a habit of dancing with strangers.” Or dancing period. I was relieved, though, that some of my old attitude surfaced at the audacity of some random man. It left me feeling a bit more grounded in Sumner’s arms, at least until they fell away from me. I looked at him, finding his face pale.
“Sorry, sorry, I guess I am being rude,” the man said a little awkwardly, and when he brushed his hands down the front of his suit jacket, I saw they were shaking. “Rude of me to just waltz up to you and assume you’d know who I was. Silly of me.”
Unease seeped further into me, a sinking feeling weighing me down. “Should I know you?” I asked, still holding onto Sumner’s shoulder despite his own hands now hanging at his sides.
I did not want to hear the answer. My gut knew before I did.
The stranger outstretched his hand to mine, and as I looked at it, the first thing I noticed was how small it was compared to Sumner’s. It looked even smaller than mine. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Margot,” he said with that same megawatt smile, leaning in. “I’m Aaron Astor. Your fiancé.”
And just like that, reality shattered that hope around me like glass.