Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
C arys
“I need to get out of these shoes,” I say, wincing.
I press my back against the wall to take the pressure off my feet. My 4-inch gold heels with a delicate wraparound strap that buckles at the ankle are dainty, sexy, and a terrible decision.
“Take them off,” my friend Taryn says. “No one will notice.”
“Yeah, but I feel like it’s a bad look, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.” She laughs.
“Every time I see someone without shoes on at a party, I think, Oh, that girl has been here far too long .” I make a face. “I don’t want to be that girl.”
I don’t want to be this girl either, but what can I do?
When I woke up this morning, I planned my outfit for tonight. I was wearing a simple black dress, black shoes, and gold jewelry. My hair would be a half-crown French braid. Simple, pretty, and low-maintenance.
And then the maintenance closet happened.
Taryn smiles. “Shoes or no shoes, you’re going to be the girl in that dress .”
“I’ll be the girl in that dress standing by the hottie in the corset top , maybe.”
She laughs. “I’m not going to argue with that. We both look hot.”
“Yes, you fucking do.” One of Tate’s friends, Reynolds, walks by and winks.
“Where’s Tate tonight?” Taryn asks, sipping her glass of wine. “I haven’t seen him, which is weird.”
“He’s not coming. His brother asked him to go on a trip with him, so he did that instead.”
She nods.
“I need another drink,” I say, getting steady on my feet again. “Maybe the next one will kill the pain.”
Reynolds motions for Taryn to join him on the sofa, so she goes that way while I head to the kitchen.
Courtney’s house is too cute for words. It’s an older home that’s been updated, and she’s started putting her touches on things. New crown molding and modern stair rails are already in place, and she mentioned being on the hunt for new rugs.
The music grows louder as I wind through the guests, and a roar of laughter filters in from the outside patio. I slip through the kitchen doorway and find the room to be empty. Thank God.
“Isn’t this unusual?” a voice says from behind me.
I turn around to see Courtney’s godmother, Margot, strolling into the room. Her bangles jingle as she stretches her arms, and bright red lips, wide.
“Margot,” I say, returning her smile. “It’s so good to see you!”
“Give me some sugar, honey.”
I laugh, giving her a hug and a kiss on both cheeks.
“You look ravishing,” she says, twirling me in a slow circle so she can take me in from all angles. “If I looked like you, the world wouldn’t be safe.”
I laugh again, unable to stop smiling. “How are you? You look wonderful. Courtney said you’ve been in London.”
“Oh yes, honey. London, Paris, and Geneva. I have a home in London, as you probably know. Then I hopped over to Paris to visit a friend. Then other friends called and were in Geneva—so, why not?”
She finds a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. Then she fills mine to the top.
“Thank you,” I say, sipping the top so it doesn’t spill. I set my phone on the counter so I can use both hands to keep it steady. “I need this.”
“That color is fantastic. What would you call it? Ruby? Currant?”
I glance down at my post-closet selection. Deep, deep V-cut that nearly touches my navel and required all the boob tape I own to stay in place. A slit from the bottom stops inches from my groin. And the fabric—soft with sparkles woven into the fibers—is ruched between the two points.
“Maybe scarlet? Garnet?” I offer.
“Whatever it is, it’s fantastic on you. So what have you been up to, darling? It’s been a while since we last spoke.”
I down half the glass of wine to bolster my confidence and to ease the distracting pulse in my soles.
“I started a business,” I say, watching her face for a reaction. “It’s called Plantcy.”
“Tell me your tagline is I’m so Plant-cy .”
Laughing, I nearly spill the wine. “That’s hilarious. If I ever get shirts or swag made, I’m putting that on there.”
“You should. It’s brilliant.”
The wine starts to take hold, washing me with a warm numbness that I’ve been after all night. I close my eyes for a split second and relish the relief—not just from my feet but also from my head. From Gannon .
“I’ll tell you why I won’t. It won’t stop there. Because that won’t be enough. It’ll never be enough.”
That son of a bitch.
I’m confident that I won that battle of wits, but I’m not sure how the war will play out. He was definitely more bamboozled than I was this afternoon. Still, he’s the owner of Brewer Group. Can I go back to work there?
I might need to push a little harder on a backup plan.
“So what does Plantcy do?” Margot asks, her lipstick leaving a ring on the glass.
“It’s a mobile plant care company.”
Her penciled-on brows arch. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” I down the rest of the wine. “I go into people’s homes and tend to their plants so they can retire after a hard day in the office and enjoy them. I’ve also been working in offices. It’s been great.”
“Honey, that’s lovely. What ingenuity! You know I appreciate the entrepreneurial spirit.”
“I didn’t really know I had that spirit until I realized that surrounding myself with plants all day is far nicer than surrounding myself with humans.”
She places a hand on her chest and chuckles. “I couldn’t agree with you more. Plants don’t talk back, they don’t spend your money, and they don’t cheat on you with younger women.”
“That’s true.”
She refills our glasses. “You know what? I have to go to Santa Barbara for a couple of weeks. I’m not sure if I’m leaving next week or the one after. Do you have space in your schedule for me and my poor little orchids?”
Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Thank you, God.
“I always have space for you, Margot.”
“I have some friends, too, who might be interested in your services. I have a restaurateur … acquaintance, let’s not call him a friend, who has an entire room dedicated to herbs. Basil, dill, lemongrass. You name it, and he has it in this indoor garden. Do you handle that sort of thing?”
“Sure. I absolutely can.”
“Oh, and I have another friend …” She laughs, mostly to herself. “He owes me a favor. Let me talk to him for you, honey. That would be a little feather in your cap.”
Internally, I’m dying. I can hear my scream echoing through my skull. But, on the outside, I play it as cool as I can with a bottle of red wine coursing through my veins.
“Margot, that would be amazing.” I sway a little. Or maybe the room does. I’m not sure. “I would really appreciate that.”
“Anything for you, my dear. Now, I’m going to find my goddaughter and congratulate her on her first home. Have you seen her?”
I struggle to think through the fog. “She was outside the last time I saw her, I think.”
“Perfect. We’ll catch up soon.”
I nod, setting my glass down and fighting to keep my eyes open. Holy shit . My phone buzzing startles me, and I reach for it.
Tate: What’s up, buttercup?
My fingers fumble over the keys.
Me: At Court’s.
Tate: How’s that going?
Me: Good. Talked to Margot. Think I scored a job with her. Woot.
Tate: Woot, huh?
Me: Woot! Woot!
Tate: How many glasses of wine have you had?
“I lost count,” I mumble, typing away.
Me: Enough, but not enough, if you catch my drift.
Tate: You’re using your tipsy words but still make sense.
Me: I’m not drunk-drunk. Just feeling good. Probably on my way to drunk-drunk, though.
Tate: Here’s the drift I’m catching—how are you getting home?
I turn to sit on a stool, but my phone slides out of my hands. “Fuck!” I crouch to get it, then almost topple over as I stand again. The wine sloshes in my stomach, and I can taste the alcohol threatening to come back up.
My phone buzzes again.
“Dammit, Tate. Give me a second.”
I open the text app and type quickly.
Me: I’ll probably call a rideshare. Can’t drive.
Gannon: Why the hell not?
I blink once. I blink again. I squint as if that’ll help me see clearer.
“Gannon?”
I pull the phone away from my face and take in the screen again. My stomach sinks to the floor.
Gannon: We need to discuss today’s events, preferably in a public place.
Me: I’ll probably call a rideshare. Can’t drive.
Gannon: Why the hell not?
“Oh no,” I moan, suddenly more alert.
Me: That wasn’t for you.
Gannon: I don’t give a fuck. Why can’t you drive?
My phone vibrates, and a text alert from Tate appears at the top.
Tate: How are you getting homeeeeeeee?
I switch back to his text chain.
Me: I’m calling a rideshare. It’s fine.
Tate: Can you stay at Courtney’s?
Another vibration. Another alert from a Brewer man. I flip back to Gannon.
Gannon: I’m going to ask you one more time—why can’t you drive?
Me: I had three too many glasses of wine. Thanks for your concern.
I go back to Tate.
Me: No, I’m not staying here. There are fifty people in this house.
Tate: I don’t like you in a rideshare by yourself when you’re drunk.
Me: We’ve been over this. I’m not drunk-drunk … yet.
Tate: Can you share your location with me?
Gannon’s name appears at the top of the screen, so I switch back to him.
Gannon: Where are you?
Me: None of your business.
Gannon: I seem to remember you telling me today that my problems have a lot to do with you. I stand corrected. You were right.
Me: I wish I could think clearly enough to process that word salad.
The room grows smaller and hotter as Tate buzzes with a new message. I find my Settings, ensure I’m sharing my location with him, and then go back to his texts.
Tate: Dammit, Carys.
Me: There. I shared it. I can’t decide whether you’re annoying or sweet. I’ll decide tomorrow and let you know.
Tate: You do that.
Gannon chimes back in.
Gannon: Stay where you are.
Me: Or what?
Gannon: So help me God.
Me: That feels like a challenge.
Gannon: This isn’t the time for your games, Carys. Stay the fuck there.
Me: You and your brother are driving me crazy tonight.
I wait for a response, but it doesn’t come.
“Typical,” I say, pouring the rest of the bottle into my glass. “Now, do I stay here, or do I go home?”
I try to process what the annoying Brewer brothers said, but it’s hazy. And, ultimately, I don’t care. I can make my own decisions.
The door flies open behind me, and Taryn sticks her head in.
“Come on,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Dance with me.”
“Now that’s some energy I can get behind,” I say, swaying as I move toward her. “Let’s go!”
We cheer, our arms around one another, as we head back into the living room.