50. Reed
Birthdays are supposed to feel like celebrations, but mine have always felt more like obligations.
I’m looking in the mirror but I don’t find myself looking back.
Sure it’s my face, my same blue eyes, my usual blond hair, but it’s not my smile.
I adjust the cuffs of the suit my father had tailored for me, and it fits me perfectly, but it makes me feel like I am burning alive.
The caterers are downstairs already set up, and guests will be arriving any second, but all I want to do is throw myself from my childhood bedroom window.
That would give them all something to talk about I’m sure.
I hate that I don’t recognize myself, that I look more like the man who raised me than myself, and I hate even more that I know Wilder would despise it all.
A knock lands softly on my bedroom door and it opens before I can answer, but I don’t even have to look to know who it is. Freddie pokes his head in, smiling grimly, before he slips inside and closes the door behind him.
“You look like dad,” he says quietly, eyes slowly assessing me, before he adds even softer, “I don’t like it.”
I snort a laugh. “That makes two of us, buddy. Are you okay?” I turn to assess him and he nods, walking across the room until he can flop down onto my bed with a sigh.
At just eleven years old, he has already learned to be careful with his words and actions inside this house, just like I did, but he always knew how to be himself when he came into my room.
I just wish I could say the same. I look at him now, dressed in his own little suit that no eleven year old should be forced to wear, and remind myself why I’m doing this.
Maybe I’ll tell him one day, that I sacrificed my happiness because of how much I love him, and that I’d do it again given the choice.
"You've got your piano recital tomorrow, right?" I ask, moving to drop onto the bed beside him, no longer caring if the stupid suit gets creased.
His face brightens instantly. “Yes, I’m really excited, I wish dad would let you come.”
"I know, I’m sorry, but Mom said she would record it for me." I fucking hate how his eyes dim when I apologize. “Are you ready for it?” At my question his eyes flick to his wrist.
It’s only been a few days since he got his cast off, but the doctor said the break has healed nicely.
He’s spent the entire time since then working on his piece for the recital, and complaining about all the time he’s missed.
Mom said he could cancel it and try again next year, but Freddie said no, he’s too determined for that.
“I think so.”
“You've been practicing enough,” I tease with a smile, thinking of the nightly videos he has been sending me of his piece.
“So much that I keep dreaming in piano notes,” he replies, and I chuckle, reaching out and putting my arm around him.
He flinches at first and it fucking kills me, but then he sinks into my embrace, and I know he’s worth one hundred fake lifetimes.
Our mom is the only one attending the recital with him, since my father only cares about being able to brag about Freddie’s musical abilities, not actually witnessing them.
Hence why I’m also not allowed to attend.
So, the two of them will be staying two nights in the town where it is being held, and will be leaving first thing in the morning.
“I’m sorry I can’t be there,” I say again quietly, and I feel him shrug against me.
“It’s okay, I know it’s not your fault.” And he’s right, he does know, he knows so much more than I ever did at his age and it makes me so fucking angry.
I open my mouth to respond when there is another knock at the door, this one firmer and more deliberate, and both of us freeze. I am ready to put myself between him and my father, but then the door opens and Eloise steps inside.
“Hey, your dad sent me up,” she says by way of greeting, smiling softly at the two of us, and I relax instantly.
She looks beautiful, like always, in a deep emerald dress that falls elegantly to the floor.
Her blond hair is pinned back, just enough to show the diamond earrings Father suggested I buy her just the other day, so I could be conveniently papped in Cartier.
She looks perfect, except despite her flawless makeup, her face looks paler than usual.
“Happy birthday, Reed,” she adds softly, and I force a smile.
“Thanks babe,” I reply, and she tries to return my smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Freddie notices too.
"You okay, Ellie?" he asks, slipping from beside me to go to her, and she looks at him lovingly.
“I’m fine, just tired,” she answers automatically, her response too quick, but thankfully Freddie accepts it.
I don’t, however. She’s been quiet all week, quieter than I have ever known her to be, and it sets me on edge.
Normally she fills every part of our apartment with some kind of noise, whether it be her singing in the shower, talking through the rom-coms she makes me watch, or laughing at something on her phone.
This week however, has been completely different.
There has been no singing, no laughing, no nothing.
In fact, the only thing she has done has been glued to her phone, which has been lighting up every five-seconds with a new message.
There was one point I joked about Zara stalking her, but she brushed it off and said it was nothing. And I didn’t push, but maybe I should have. “You sure you're okay?” I ask again, and she finally looks at me fully for the first time all week.
“I’m okay.” The lie lands between us heavily, but what can I say when we have both become experts at pretending.
Freddie pushes himself toward the door. “I should go before Dad starts yelling.” He heads for the door, before stopping suddenly and turning around to come back over to me.
Without saying a word, he throws his arms around me and I hug him back automatically.
“Happy birthday,” he mumbles into my shoulder.
“Thanks, kid,” I reply, squeezing him tightly before letting go, and he fixes me with a look.
“You'll come hear me play next time.”
“I promise.” He squeezes me once more before letting go, then he looks at Eloise.
“You too.”
She smiles, more genuinely this time. “Wouldn't miss it.”
Then he finally leaves, the door clicking shut behind him and letting silence settle over the room.
Eloise walks over to the window overlooking my father's estate, and I move to follow her, as we both watch luxury cars roll through the gates, one after another. Valets hurry across the driveway to greet them, and I don’t care to see a single one of them.
“Are we too old to run away from home?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood, and she lets out a humorless laugh.
Her phone vibrates again and she pulls it out to look at the screen, and I only see a glance of a message.
Zara - Please just tell me you're…
The notification vanishes, as Eloise clicks the button to make the screen dark and slips it back into her clutch.
“Are you ready?” she asks, forcing a fake smile.
No. Not even close, but I straighten my jacket anyway.
“As I'll ever be.”
She reaches for my hand, and I know it’s not for our fake show of love, but because sometimes friendship brings the strongest kind of courage. And together we leave my room and head downstairs, to put on a show for our waiting guests.
The party has already begun by the time we reach the ballroom, a string quartet playing quietly from the balcony above, while waiters weave effortlessly through the crowd, carrying champagne and canapés on silver trays.
I’m not surprised that everyone’s face is familiar, despite the fact I didn’t get any say in the guest list. There are politicians and CEOs, investors and celebrities.
The perfect mix of old money and new. People who have spent their entire lives believing wealth makes them untouchable.
Father moves through them like he owns the room, and the moment he spots us, his fake smile broadens.
“There they are.” He throws an arm around my shoulders, steering Eloise and me deeper into the crowd.
“My son,” he says far too loudly, drawing as much attention as he can manage, his words nothing but performative.
“I can’t believe you are twenty-two today! ”
A chorus of congratulations follows, as he leads me around the room like a show pony, multiple hands shaking mine and kissing Eloise’s.
People I've only met once wish me happy birthday, as though we've known each other for years, and I thank them as if we are both genuine.
Someone compliments my suit, someone else asks about the PRI finale, and another wants to discuss sponsorship opportunities for next season.
I smile even though I am dying inside, answering every question carefully, because I've been trained for this since I was old enough to hold a conversation.
Inside I'm somewhere else entirely. Someone asks where Wilder is now that the season has ended, and I almost empty the contents of my stomach right there on the ballroom floor.
“He's enjoying some well-earned time off,” I reply, ensuring I sound professional and detached.
After that, time loses all meaning. All the conversations and well wishes blend together, as I ensure my champagne flute remains heavily rotated.
Beside me, Eloise remains unusually quiet, still smiling and nodding where necessary, and thanking people when they compliment her dress, but I’m the only one who sees right through it.
Her mind isn’t here, it’s somewhere else entirely, and we both pretend we don’t feel her phone continuously vibrating in her purse.
Before I can ask if she is okay, my father's hand lands heavily between my shoulder blades. “There you are.” He smiles for the benefit of everyone watching. “Come on, it’s time.” I have no idea what that means, and can’t ask, because he is already steering me toward the grand staircase positioned at the center of the ballroom.
The quartet fades into silence as we reach our spot, and conversation dies away gently, until a member of staff taps gently against a champagne glass, and then every head turns our way.
Something cold settles in my stomach, as my father steps onto the first landing, accepting a microphone from one of the event coordinators.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for joining us this evening.” Polite applause follows, and he smiles and nods in triumph while waiting for it to fade. “Tonight, we celebrate two very special occasions.” I have to stop myself from frowning, as I turn my head toward him with a smile, before glancing sideways at Eloise, who looks just as confused as I am. “The first is my son’s birthday,” my father continues on, smiling at me.
“The apple of my eye, the heir to my throne, and almost as good looking as his old man.” The crowd laughs at his joke, but I don’t hear anything over my racing heartbeat.
He gestures for me to stand beside him and I obey automatically, years of conditioning overriding every instinct, screaming at me that something isn't right. “My son has grown into a remarkable young man, he’s smart, dedicated, and successful in his own right, a true Lamont.” Then he turns to Eloise and panic settles low in my gut.
“I couldn’t think of a better night to officially welcome my future daughter-in-law into our family.
” His hand extends toward Eloise, who isn’t wearing her mask as well as I am, as the ballroom starts to erupt into delighted murmurs.
“It gives me enormous pleasure to announce the engagement of my son, Prescott Lamont and his wonderful bride-to-be, Eloise Hartwell.”
Everything after that disappears beneath the roar of applause, as everyone starts to cheer, holding their glasses of champagne in the air.
Someone shouts congratulations, but I don’t hear any of it, my ears are ringing too loud.
No, no, no, this is not how it was supposed to be, we had a deal, a plan, I was supposed to have more time.
Father reaches into his jacket pocket and produces the black velvet box, the one he told me to bring so he could make sure it was properly insured. He opens it swiftly, the diamond catching the light from the chandeliers, and gasps ripple through the crowd.
“Go on, son.” His voice is low enough that only I hear it. “Give your fiancée her ring.”
As if my hands have a mind of their own, I reach out and take the ring, turning to Eloise to find all of the color drained from her face.
Then, just beyond her I see my mom and Freddie watching this whole thing unfold, and that’s all I need.
Taking a deep breath I widen my smile, before taking her hand in mine and sliding the ring into place.
I pull her into an embrace, her body shaking in mine so much that I have to say, “It’s okay, just smile.”
It’s a lie, we both know it, because nothing will ever be okay again.
When we pull apart, people instantly move toward us, all of them wanting to congratulate us and check out the ring, and a path naturally opens up. My eyes lift like magnets, my heart almost stopping completely, as they land on the last person I ever expected to see tonight.
Wilder is standing just inside the entrance, wearing an all black suit, with Matteo half a step behind him. Neither of them are speaking, their stares just locked on mine in a mixture of surprise and pure devastation, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
I feel someone step up beside me, and then my father’s hand is around my shoulders. “So glad your friends could make it,” he muses, and I turn to find his stare is locked on them.
Oh my God, he did this, he invited them.
Which doesn’t make any sense, I know how he feels about Matteo, and his father wasn’t even invited this evening, so why did he invite them?
“Now, smile for the cameras, and don’t do anything stupid,” he beams, gesturing for Eloise to join us, and then someone from the press takes a picture that I know will be our engagement announcement, and all I can do is smile, while I watch Wilder’s heart break all over again.