Chapter 4
“Well, that was superb,” Luca says, placing his napkin on his plate. “Abby, you’ll have to save a dance for this old man after you two do a few rounds.” His eyes go from mine and then, to my surprise, to Gabriel.
My body warms as I realize what Luca is saying. He thinks Gabriel and I will dance together.
Why would he assume that? Didn’t he get the briefing? Oliver and I are supposed to be a couple. Not me and Gabriel.
Gabriel laughs. “She’s all yours. I don’t think I can handle this one.”
I gasp and glare at him, which earns a chuckle from Luca. Meanwhile, Gabriel couldn’t look more pleased with himself.
Thankfully, Oliver is still engrossed in his conversation with Secretary Luis and didn’t hear our exchange. Good. Let Oliver focus on trade policy and not the barbs being traded between me and Gabriel.
Music begins to play, beckoning guests to the East Room.
I recognize a jazzy version of a Frank Sinatra song.
Ready to end this conversation fast, I rise.
I offer friendly but curt smiles to everyone at the table except Gabriel and make my way to the ballroom, trying to lose myself in the swanky tunes of the US Marine Band.
I hear Elle’s giggle before her arm links through mine. “Enzo is the absolute—”
I cut my sister off. “I can’t believe you did that to me,” I hiss so only she can hear.
She gasps. “Did what?”
“Switched seats.”
She snorts. “You looked completely fine with the person who I switched with.”
I follow her gaze and see Tita Karra locking arms with Gabriel.
I groan. “Have you heard of him before? I had no idea Tita had a godson.”
“And one that hot.” Elle giggles. I give her a little nudge. Elle huffs. “What? Tita’s allowed to have a life outside of us.”
I roll my eyes. After we got into the White House during Mom’s first term, Tita very happily went back to her roots as an angel investor—a person who provides seed funding for businesses.
She works with a group of angel investors whenever she finds a good business case.
Tita has helped start up many female veterans and local small businesses in underserved areas, urban and rural. All causes Mom believes in too.
Tita has a lot of new ventures, but who knew landing a godson was one of them. Hopefully while everyone’s dancing I can pin her down and get the story on Gabriel.
Despite my mood, even I can appreciate the White House’s largest room, the East Room.
The space already embodies glamour and historic charm, but the room is practically glittering this evening with its three grand chandeliers and guests in colorful ball gowns.
All underneath the watchful eyes of President George Washington, whose portrait First Lady Dolley Madison famously saved when the British burned the White House in 1814. Yes, another woman who saved the day.
The US Marine Band is set up beside a small stage, playing their merry tunes. Apparently later tonight Enzo and a couple other singers will also be performing. Elle is breathless trying to figure out which songs he’ll sing.
I shoot her a warning look. “Please don’t fixate on just one person.”
She bursts out laughing. “Says the girl who can’t stop staring.” She gestures—not subtly—over my shoulder.
I turn. Tita Karra is heading straight for us, practically towing a reluctant-looking Gabriel behind her. Do I really have to spend more time with him?
Tita grins. “I’m so glad you two connected over dinner.” She reaches up to pinch Gabriel’s cheek, clearly delighted. He endures it with a mortified smile.
“Your mother has a few people she wants me to meet. Will you girls make sure Gabe behaves himself?” Tita teases. “I’m counting on Abby’s discipline and good manners to rub off on him.”
Elle snickers as she whispers in my ear, “I think you’d rather rub something else on him.” My face pales. I hope no one heard that.
I glance at Tita, trying to hide my annoyance. “Happy to help, Tita, but first, do you have a moment?” As in a moment for me to politely but firmly inform you that “Gabe” has been voted off the island and he has to pack his bags?
Tita wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me aside. “Yes, anak?” Her gaze meets mine and I feel at a loss for words.
This is Tita Karra, who was there when I broke my arm falling off the bleachers during a campaign rally. This is Tita Karra, who helped me overcome my shyness at my first debate club meeting in the fifth grade. How can I be upset with her? Keeping her godson company should be the least I can do.
I stammer as her eyes search mine. “Nothing. You look great tonight.”
She tsks. “You’re almost an adult, Abby. You’re allowed to share your opinions with me. Even if I disagree.”
If she notices me frown, she doesn’t stop her commentary. “Thank you for being nice to Gabe. It’s been difficult—” She stops mid-sentence and grins. “Oh, look who’s here.”
With a startle I turn to find Oliver urgently beckoning me. I give a pointed look at Tita as she pushes me toward him. She’s another Oliver and Abby shipper. “Go, we can catch up later,” she says with a wink.
Oliver reaches me first. “Your folks want us to join them for the first dance,” he says, doing his best to hide his giddiness.
My body stiffens as I look from him to Tita. Participate in the first dance? We both know that’s a first. Usually Mom, Dad, and the visiting head of state will dance the first dance.
Protocol must’ve slackened now that Mom’s in her second term.
Oliver holds out his hand, which I stare at for a fraction longer than I should.
I don’t look at Gabriel directly, but from the side of my eye I can feel his gaze laser pointed at me.
Meanwhile, the crowd around us parts as Oliver leads me to the dance floor. I hear curious murmurs and excited gasps along the way.
Oliver leans in. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers. “We’ll just do our prom moves.”
My grip tightens. Oliver thinks I’m nervous about dancing, especially given my gift for being a human tumbleweed. But it’s not the dancing, which we’ve rehearsed many times, that’s got me worried.
It’s pretty much the optics of pairing Oliver and me together on the world stage with my parents and the prime minister and his wife. Practically declaring to the world our impending coupledom.
When we reach the floor, Mom, Dad, and the prime minister and his wife greet us with the friendliest of smiles.
My parents lean in for a hug, but Dad pulls me close. “Sweetie, do you want to sit this out?”
“Won’t that embarrass Mom?” I murmur so only he can hear.
“No. I’ve asked Oliver to move you to the front of the room to watch us.” He holds his breath. “But he asked if you two can join the first dance. Your mother is fine with that, if you are.”
I stare into Dad’s concerned eyes. “I thought this was something Mom’s team wanted for positive press,” I say.
Dad scoffs. “They always want nice human-interest stories, but you’re not a prop.” He smiles encouragingly and I know I have the best father in the world.
I glance at Oliver, who’s having a heart-to-heart with my mother, and I know dancing with my best friend is the right thing to do for our family.
I give Dad an encouraging smile. “No problem. I’m up for it.”
He tugs my hair playfully. “I still see pigtails.”
My father reaches for Mom’s hand and that’s my cue. My parents head to the dance floor, and so do the prime minister and his wife. And I’m not imagining it: The uproar in the crowd is loud as Oliver leads me to the floor.
Though the rapid-fire clicking of cameras may be louder than the people, I tune that out and focus my attention on Oliver’s smooth and steady hand over my right and his other hand at my back. His touch so familiar it’s reassuring, like my favorite childhood blanket.
The music begins and the familiar dance commands fill my brain as I count the steps. One-two-three, one-two-three…I fall into a well-practiced rhythm.
My face freezes into a pleased and pretty smile. An expression also well-rehearsed.
My body on autopilot might’ve stayed perfectly composed, except for the tiniest glances I steal at Gabriel, who stands near the corner of the room like a dark cloud.
I force myself to not react. Not let him rain all over my sunshine, which unfortunately makes my brain cue up cheesy montages of the two of us caught in a summer storm together.
Gabriel’s hands move and I see a bright flash. Did he take a photo of me?
It’s not until the prime minister’s wife, Mrs. Mariano, cuts in that I realize the song is over. I look up to see Oliver beaming at me—completely over the moon.
“You were amazing, Abby,” he whispers as he hugs me. “My parents will be thrilled!”
I hug him back, because Oliver is my best friend and I want him to be happy. And pleasing our parents is one of our top priorities.
Mrs. Mariano coos in Italian as she squeezes both our arms. Oliver, ever the diplomat, asks her for the next dance.
I look over to Mom, who’s now partnered with the prime minister.
Naturally I head for Dad—only to find Elle already claimed him.
Ugh. I guess Enzo must be somewhere rehearsing his song.
Now that the dancing has officially started, couples are heading toward the dance floor.
I lower my gaze, dodging eye contact with anyone who might ask me to dance.
Dancing with Oliver works because we’re a well-oiled machine.
Dancing with complete strangers who want to talk my ear off? Also something I like to avoid.
But because it’s me—clumsy Abby—trying to escape, I promptly bump into Gabriel Calabrese. I take a deep breath as I lift my eyes to meet his.
“We seem to keep bumping into each other,” he says, those lips of his upturned into a devastating smile.
“Seriously. You need to wear reflectors or something,” I scold him. My eyes widen as I see the Monopoly guy beelining toward me. His partner appears to be chasing Secretary Luis down.
I exhale. Why can’t I catch a break? I look Gabriel over and make a snap decision as I reach for his hand.