15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
I ’m a bundle of nerves. Jittery, like I just drank a bunch of caffeine.
I’m currently trying to tape a sign to the shop front door that says: “Restrooms Inside.” But my fingers are fumbling, and the tape keeps getting stuck together before I can apply it. I’ve said a lot of cusswords under my breath.
Behind me, the catering company is moving around the tent getting everything into place, like busy worker bees. The DJ is setting up to the left, a wood dance floor laid out in front of him, taking over that entire corner of the tent.
There are high-top tables by the bar, and larger lower tables covered with tablecloths surrounded by chairs in matching fabric covers. Twinkle lights hang from the top of the tent, giving the space an ethereal feeling.
Chelsea is back to being Chelsea. No more freaking out, just calm and cool and making everything happen. She’s in her element now, directing everyone in her pale-pink dress with a tulle skirt and beaded bodice. Gone is the Chelsea from yesterday with the red eyes and the look of panic on her face. It’s amazing what a night of sleep can do.
I take in a breath after finally taping the sign to the door. So much anxiety moving through me right now. I also feel a bit first-day-of-school uncomfortable, like there’s so much to anticipate, so many unknowns, and did I even pick the right outfit? I look down at my black cocktail dress. It’s strapless and fitted, landing just above my knees. I have a jacket to put over it if I get cold, since we’re still in the season when it’s not over one hundred degrees for twenty-four hours of the day. According to the forecast, it could get down to the low sixties tonight, which is cold for Arizonans. Chelsea has placed tall patio heaters around the tent, just in case.
I don’t think I’ll need the jacket, with my body reacting the way it is. All antsy, with sweaty palms and pits.
“I don’t have time for you to freak out,” Chelsea says as she walks up to me where I'm still standing by the door I was assigned to put a sign on. Chelsea looks at the sign, eyeing it from different angles. She ends up taking it off and then putting it back on how she wants it. This is the story of my life. I’m surprised she didn’t redo the spots I marked for the cars on display tonight. She may have while I wasn’t here. I wouldn’t know; I’m not as meticulous as she is.
“I’m not freaking out,” I say, reaching up and running my fingers over the k pendant hanging from the chain around my neck.
“You look like you are,” she says. She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let June overwhelm you.”
I wrinkle my nose. I’d completely forgotten June was going to be here. Inviting Chase and him agreeing to come superseded anything else I was worried about tonight. I don’t want to tell her any of this, though. It’s too long of a conversation, and Chelsea would probably worry that somehow Chase would ruin her perfectly put together party. She probably won’t even notice he’s here once everything gets started. That’s why I texted him back and told him to come at seven thirty—so he’d show up a little after everything was in swing. That way his arrival will be more inconspicuous.
“You’re right,” I say, blaming June. Poor June. I’ve used her twice now. She doesn’t deserve this.
“Remember, we aren’t supposed to know that she’s here as anything but a friend to Dad.”
“I know,” I say.
“Just pretend,” Chelsea says, stepping back and looking me over, taking in my outfit. She reaches up and moves some of my hair around. Then she gives me a nod of approval and walks away.
Pretending is actually good life advice for me right now. I’m going to pretend that I invited my long-lost friend Chase out tonight, and not a stranger I met because he has my mom’s phone number.
Forty-five minutes later, the party is just getting started. A lot of people are here—all of the Cooper’s employees and many of our clients. I’ve been walking around talking to some of our regulars. One of my favorite clients, Andy Lawrence, is here with his wife, Nicki. She looks stunning in a plum-colored dress, her red hair half–pulled back. They are couple goals as I watch the way he looks at her while we’re talking. Like she’s the only person in the room. The only person his eyes want to see.
No one is dancing yet—the music is more background at this point. I suspect it will take more drinking to get people onto the dance floor. I’ll definitely need some liquid courage myself. I worry that some of our employees might get a little carried away tonight. Okay, it’s Chad. I’m mostly worried about Chad. I’ve already told Devon he has to keep an eye on him.
Dawson approached me when he first got here, telling me how pretty I looked tonight. I told him he looked pretty too. Those were my actual words: “You look pretty too, Dawson.” It wasn’t a lie. He’s more than pretty in his charcoal-gray suit. He’s straight off a modeling runway, with that light-blue shirt underneath the jacket, making his crystal-blue eyes pop. The collar is unbuttoned and no tie. It’s sexy, is what it is.
There are so many adjectives I could have used. Handsome, gorgeous … I could have kicked off this night of flirting I’d planned with the word attractive , even. Instead, I said pretty . Then I asked him something about Chad.
Yes. I sure did. I’m so predictable.
I blame Chase. His coming tonight has upped my anxiety game by a million. What was I thinking when I asked him? What’s done is done. I should probably stay away from Dawson until Chase gets here. Until I’ve gotten my nerves in order. If that’s possible.
I work my way around the party, saying hello to everyone. I see my dad and June standing by the bar, so I walk over to them. Might as well get this over with.
“Hi, Dad,” I say as I approach.
“Magpie,” he says, extra brightly. He gives me a hug and kisses me on the cheek. Then he holds on to my hands and takes a step back so we’re at arm’s length. “Well, don’t you look fantastic tonight.”
“Thanks, Dad. So do you.” He’s in a black suit and he looks … relaxed. And happy. With his eyes doing that little crinkling thing in the corner that they do. I feel like I haven’t seen that look on him in a while. Like his smiles have been empty as of late. But this feels like a genuine Nick Cooper smile.
He looks around the tent. “Everything turned out great,” he says, letting go of my hands. “Happy twenty-five years.” He grabs his drink from the bar, holds it out, and does an air toast.
“Happy twenty-five years, Dad. You made this happen.” I smile at him, then add, “Make sure you tell Chelsea how great it is.”
“Already did,” he says. He winks at me.
He gestures over to June, who’s standing next to him with a drink in her hand. She’s in a pantsuit, the jacket sequined. Her dyed-blonde hair goes just past her shoulders. “You remember June.”
I look to June, who gives me a grand smile. And then looks at my dad and shakes her head.
“Does she remember me? Are you serious, Nick? Come here, sweetie, give this old lady a hug.”
She pulls me into a hug, and as much as I didn’t want her to be here, or like the fact that she and my dad have a song, hugging her feels … nice. And familiar. It’s a warm, tight hug, even if she’s a few inches shorter than me.
I stand back after the hug and take in the two of them together. My dad with his graying hair, looking extra debonair tonight. June hardly looks her age, with her beautiful fair skin. She has a classic look with a pointy chin and petite nose. My dad looks happy. I can admit that. And they look good together.
My gut does a clenching thing at that thought. If things hadn’t gone the way they had, it would be my mom standing here with my dad. She’d be fussing with my hair—kind of like Chelsea did—and she’d have a hand on me like she always did when she stood close. On my back or my arm. To comfort me and give me strength.
I blink my eyes a few times, feeling the heat burn behind them. I can’t cry right now. That would be bad on so many levels.
Pretend, Maggie. Pretend.
“You here by yourself?” my dad asks, his lips pulled up into a small smile, his eyes twinkling in the colorful lights coming from the DJ table.
“Hannah is meeting me here later,” I say, even though I doubt she’ll show up. But I don’t want my dad thinking I’m alone and then inviting me to stay with him and June. Plus, I have someone else coming. My stomach clenches again.
“You look gorgeous,” June says.
“Thank you,” I say, rubbing my sweaty hands on the sides of my thighs.
Telling them that I need to go find Chelsea, I excuse myself from June and my dad and walk over to the other side of the tent. I look out at the cars on display. They range from a Mustang to an Aston Martin. My dad’s Lamborghini sits parked partially underneath the tent on the other side of the dance floor.
I think Chelsea and Devon were right. I think that whole “friend” pitch my dad gave us was just that: a pitch. I guess I knew that from their flirty texts, but I may have been holding out hope. Like it was a fluke or just an inside joke or something.
I blink back some more tears and take a big breath. Then I look at my watch and see that I have one minute until Chase is due to arrive. The teary feeling is now replaced by a big sack of rocks at the bottom of my gut.
I’m about to meet Chase.
I don’t even know if he’s the type of person to be early or late. Maybe he’s already here? Will I even recognize him when I see him? I didn’t even tell him what I was wearing so he could find me. Was this the craziest idea I’ve ever had? I invited the man who now has my mom’s phone number to a party—a work party. This might be top on the list of craziest things I’ve done. And I’ve swam with sharks. In a tank, of course, but still.
“Maggie?” a rich-sounding deep voice says from behind me, interrupting my crazy train of thoughts.
I feel my pulse skip and jump. I take a steadying breath before turning around.