Chapter 26
I tried not to read anything into how long Elliot and Allegra were gone.
No, they weren’t currently reconciling their relationship in a backroom. No, she wasn’t telling him how much better they’d been together. No, he wasn’t agreeing with her.
Just her sheer presence made me a bundle of insecurities.
A startling reminder that I didn’t fit in next to Ashwoods in designer dresses on red carpets of expensive charity events I couldn’t contribute to.
She and Elliot were a better match, and I still wasn’t quite sure why he’d want to kiss me when there was a perfectly suited option who wasn’t a pain in his ass half the time.
It took until dessert for them to get back. My leg was nervously bouncing below the table, and I’d almost knocked over Alissa Amato’s wineglass twice.
Elliot weaved his way past the round tables, casting tight smiles at whoever greeted him. Allegra, a few deliberate feet behind him, arms crossed, scowl on her face, wasn’t looking at anyone. She didn’t make eye contact when she sat back down between her parents.
Elliot tried to smile at me, and even though I knew it wasn’t a real one, it eased some of the anxiety in the pit of my stomach. Sorry, he mouthed. Gave my hand a single reassuring squeeze below the table, then retreated.
Before I could ask if he was alright, he said, like nothing had happened at all, “Did we really miss every single course?”
The entire table was grateful to have someone break the awkward tension. Allegra’s parents chuckled politely, and Rowen exhaled in relief. “Burned some calories instead of consuming them, I assume.”
At least I wasn’t alone in my assumption. Maybe they really had talked (or . . . fucked?) it out—
Elliot slapped his brother upside the head. Allegra glared at him. Her parents fell into quiet conversation with each other to escape whatever was currently going on at the table.
Okay, maybe not.
Allegra’s eyes flicked to me, then Elliot, and then me again. Judging, probably wondering, Whatever could he see in her?
Despite the Adeline Ashwood dress, layer of makeup, and styled hair, I felt out of place.
Not because I looked a mess or used the wrong fork again, but because Elliot and Rowen were bickering with each other like I wasn’t seated right between them, and Allegra had her parents to converse with, even if tersely.
I had no one.
By the time Elliot finished his tart, I still hadn’t touched mine.
I’d barely managed to eat half of the main course anyway, so I wasn’t surprised that my hunger hadn’t miraculously returned when they did.
I pushed my plate toward the blond beside me, gave him a small smile, and excused myself with an “I’ll be right back. Bathroom.”
That third glass of wine was making itself noticeable. Not just to my bladder, but to my head. And perception. I wasn’t slurring and stumbling, but I was sure there was a sway in my step and I sounded . . . not quite right. I didn’t feel quite right either.
I emerged from the stall that was bigger than my bedroom, washed my hands, flattened a few rogue strands, and then stared at myself.
Hoping the smudged mascara had happened sometime during the auction, not before our carpet walk.
I readjusted the dress around my chest, thinking, What the fuck am I doing here?
Not in the bathroom, checking myself out, but here. At a fundraiser. Flirting with Elliot Ashwood and making an enemy of a girl I’d always kind of . . . admired. Thought was cool, at least. Wanted to be, a little bit.
I could also blame that third glass of wine on the groan that bounced off the bathroom walls a second later. In the exact moment the door opened, and someone joined me in my despair. “Sorry,” I muttered with half a laugh, trying my very best to avoid eye contact.
But her voice seemed familiar when she said, “Maeve?”
In the mirror, our eyes connected. “Daphne!”
As always, pretty in pink. Her blond hair was in a perfect updo, just messy enough to seem deliberate. A simple silk dress, its drop neck revealing some cleavage and an open back. The color of it matched her cheeks.
And Daphne Martin, bestselling author and Ashwood client, slung her arms around me like we’d known each other for years. Like it was a tragedy, even, that it’d been a day or two since we’d last seen each other. “It’s so nice to see a familiar face! You look gorgeous,” she gushed.
“Says you,” I muttered. Her hands slipped into mine, holding them between us like we were about to dance in a circle to summon demons.
We might—that’s how magnetic her energy felt.
“I should’ve known you’d be here.” They’ll be wherever Ashwood is, Elliot had said.
I blamed my loose tongue on the alcohol, by the way.
“But, as always, Elliot didn’t mention it. ” Not specifically, anyway.
Still, no matter how badly I wanted to go on, talking shit about him didn’t seem like a great idea.
To Daphne and Ryan, we needed to seem like one unit.
The best team. One that could definitely be trusted with their looks.
A pair that wasn’t secretly competing against each other or kissing in elevators and meeting rooms.
“Pretty last minute.” She let her wrists run under the cool water of the faucet before washing her hands.
“Ryan’s busy tonight, and I had no other plans.
Plus, I thought getting some green carpet pictures at a fundraiser for .
. . well, I guess, against climate change might go well with our sustainability theme.
Not that I’m just here for the optics. I love that he does this.
So few people like him do.” Daphne shook her head, like she’d talked herself into a corner.
The gesture made me smile. “Sorry. That sounded rude. I mean, my husband is one of those people.”
I kind of loved that she referred to him as her husband when their wedding wasn’t until next year.
“Which, I guess, makes me one of those people. I’m sorry, I’m talking without thinking first here.” Deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is, I love that you guys care about that kind of stuff. Which is why I was so excited when he suggested the sustainability theme.”
So excited.
I could still kill Elliot for mentioning the word sustainability so early on, because it’s exactly what had gotten us into this predicament: a client, excited for a look we didn’t yet have, with materials we’d never sourced, and bosses who hated the idea.
With a million sketches in my notebook and not a single coherent direction I could pitch because Oliver had hated the last one.
With Elliot, busy organizing galas and raising money for important causes, which must’ve still taken up most of the time he’d been supposed to invest into Adeline Ashwood. Not the foundation.
I plastered a smile onto my face, nodding grandly as if I couldn’t agree more. “Me too.” It almost hurt to say. “We’re really excited. It’s a first for Adeline Ashwood, so it means the world we get to do it with you.”
Back to the truth. Apart from everything wrong with Elliot’s approach, Daphne loved the idea, and I, apparently, loved making her happy. Just look at the way her lips pulled into a genuine smile. Who wouldn’t want to do that for their favorite author?
“Look, I know Ryan said to play this cool, but he’s not here.
When his stylist said Ashwood approached him, I lost it.
Like, checking my emails for updates every hour, then jumping through the entire house when they came.
The last time I did that, I was waiting for query replies from agents five years ago.
” Drying her hands, she reached for mine again afterward.
“Again, what I’m trying to say in way too many words: I love what you guys do, and I’ve never been more excited for anything in my life. ”
“The movie deal?”
Daphne threw her head back in a laugh. “Okay, maybe that one thing in my life.”
By the time we got back, people were no longer sitting in their seats but wandering the venue, ordering drinks at the open bar, and admiring the view. An oversized presentation check stood on an easel in the middle of the stage.
Fifteen million dollars written on it in messy handwriting I immediately recognized as Elliot’s.