Chapter 20
Amy held her breath as she stood in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. She placed her
hand on her abdomen, the silky feel of her formal gown smooth and soft underneath her palm. But inside, her stomach was on
a roller coaster. Was this how Britt often felt? My poor girl.
Britt had left earlier today to work on her project at K&Bs. She’d been spending so much time there, Amy barely saw her anymore.
Earlier this week when she told Britt she was going to stop by the shop and see her progress, her daughter had been adamant
that she wait.
“Next week,” she implored. “All will be revealed next week.”
Amy acquiesced. Britt had no idea that her words held a double meaning because Amy had decided to tell her about Max. Even
if tonight’s outing ended up being a bust, she’d come clean about him. She’d never kept a secret from Britt, other than not
telling her the worst details concerning Daniel’s bad behavior. But she’d never been deceptive about herself, and the guilt
was starting to get to her.
Switching her mental focus, she turned to the side and checked her profile. The caramel-colored dress complemented her moderately tanned skin—thanks to her constant battle with the flower beds. Her makeup wasn’t too heavy, but not as light as she usually wore. And the fit was perfect. Comfortable even. The only downside was that the hem was a little too long, but that would change once she put on her heels. She’d practiced walking in the three-inch sandals a little bit around the house earlier today. Although she wasn’t graceful, she wasn’t an oaf either.
Glancing at the time on her watch, her eyes widened. Max would be here any minute, and here she was preening in the mirror.
Okay, not exactly preening. More like trying to calm herself down. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this nervous.
It’s just a party... It’s just a party... Except it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. And now she was wishing she’d told Britt about the party and Max so she could lean on
her daughter for moral support.
She quickly slipped her feet into the gold straps, yanked up the back strap on both shoes, and turned to head for the door.
Two steps in, she stumbled... and heard a ripping sound.
“Oh no!” She looked at the hem of her dress, breathing a sigh of relief when she didn’t see a tear. Maybe she’d imagined it.
But just as she almost stopped looking, she saw it—a small hole right above the seam on the right side. “Oh no, no, no !”
She lifted the dress up to her knees, her heels clacking on the wood floor as she hurried to the junk drawer in the kitchen
where she kept a tiny sewing kit for emergencies. She flung it open and fished around. “Where are you!” she yelled, as if
the drawer would just hand her the kit on demand.
The doorbell rang and she shot straight up. Max. She couldn’t go to the party with a hole in her dress. Maybe she should just
pretend she wasn’t here. No, that was dumb. She sighed, still holding the bottom of the dress with her left hand, and went
to the door. Taking in a deep breath, she opened it. “Hi, Max.”
His brow shot up as he looked her over. “Interesting sartorial choice,” he said, noting her dress.
She glanced down and realized the hem wasn’t just past her knees, but on the edge of indecent territory. She instantly dropped it, the fabric hitting the ground. “Sorry for the show.”
“I’m not.” He grinned.
Amy couldn’t help but chuckle. He wasn’t leering at her, just making a joke. “C’mon in,” she said, opening the door wider.
“I’ve had a sartorial catastrophe.” She shut the door behind him.
“I can’t tell.” He paused. “You look lovely, Amy.”
Her face heated, and she actually dipped her chin in an aw-shucks kind of way. “Thanks, Max. I’m sorry, but do you mind waiting for a minute? I ripped the bottom of my dress, and I can’t
find the sewing kit. I think it’s in my daughter’s room. I know we’re going to be late, but—”
He held up his hand. “Just tell me where to sit.”
“The kitchen’s that way. I’ll hurry.”
Max smiled again. “I don’t mind being fashionably late. Isn’t that what all the fancy people do?”
“I wouldn’t know.” She hurried to Britt’s room, thankful that Max was so understanding, and yet still wondering why she wasn’t
attracted to him. Even in her embarrassment, she’d noticed how exceptionally handsome he was in his tuxedo. And as usual,
he was being so nice. She should be head over heels for him by now. Or at least have a butterfly or two.
Amy entered the room and glanced around. She rarely came in here, respecting Britt’s privacy, and she didn’t want to be in
here now, much less searching her room for a needle and thread. But she was desperate, and she’d add it to her list of explanations
regarding Max when she talked to Britt about him.
The walls were covered with all sorts of Britt’s colorful art. Most of her décor was seventies inspired, even down to the round orange shag rug in the middle of the floor. Everything was neat, except for her desk, and that only had a sketchbook and a charcoal pencil on it. She decided to start there first, carefully walking across the shag rug so she didn’t get her heel caught on the fluffy fibers.
When she reached the desk, she was about to open the drawer when she saw Britt’s sketchbook. She paused, taking note of the
mostly complete sketch of a young man who made handsome Max look like chopped liver. Amy couldn’t resist picking up the book
and studying it for a minute. This was on another level, almost photographic in quality. Yowza .
She set the book down and opened the drawer. The sketch was obviously of a model from a magazine or the internet. Britt often
used photographs to practice portraiture. She’d hit the jackpot when she found that guy.
Unfortunately, all she found in Britt’s desk were more art supplies, and she was about to lose hope when she saw the small
kit on her nightstand. Amy snatched it up, lifted her dress to a modest level this time, and clacked back into the kitchen
where Max was dutifully sitting, staring at the refrigerator.
She bustled into the room and sat down in the chair. Then she remembered her southern manners. “Can I get you a drink? I’ve
got some iced tea I made yesterday, but it’s still good.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. There’ll be plenty of refreshments at the Picketts’. Probably an overwhelming amount.”
She grimaced, her nerves bundling up again as she pulled out a needle and the small spool of white thread. It was either that
or black. “I can’t believe I did something so stupid.”
“You ripped your dress on purpose?”
“No.” Amy poked the thread at the needle and missed. Twice. Ugh, she hated sewing. “It was an accident—”
“Then it wasn’t stupid.” He took the thread and needle from her, and in less than a second had it ready.
“Impressive,” she said, taking it from him.
“I’ve had lots of practice.” His expression turned solemn.
He didn’t have to say “since Crystal died.” She could see that plain as day on his face. “Usually, I ask Britt to sew on a
button or fix a rip for me, but she’s out working on a project.”
“I look forward to meeting her someday.”
She looked at Max. “I’m sure you will, soon.” When he smiled, she returned it and quickly stitched up the hem. Her work wasn’t
perfect, but no one would be lying on the floor with a magnifying glass, judging her sewing capabilities. “Okay, I’m ready
to go.” She stood, only teetering slightly on her heels, using the table to steady herself. “Oops. New shoes, and they are
totally going into the dumpster after tonight.”
He chuckled, then stood and held out his arm. “Lean on me if you need to.”
She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Thank you. And may I say you’re looking suave and debonair tonight.”
“You may definitely say that.”
As they left, she hoped the rest of the evening would be smoother than the beginning of it.
***
Hunter’s Uber pulled up in front of his parents’ huge mansion. Although it was only dusk, the entire estate was illuminated,
from the hedgerow lined up along the front to the interior rooms. From the passenger seat in the back of the SUV, he could
see the huge spiral staircase and massive crystal chandelier through the large windows on the front of the house.
He thanked the driver as a man dressed in a crimson sports jacket, black pants, and matching black tie opened the door. Hunter had never seen this guy before. He figured the chauffeur he met that day at Hutton’s would be doing valet duty tonight.
Stepping out of the SUV, he stared at the incredible house and gulped. He hadn’t grown up here, since his father wasn’t making
the big bucks until he started his own law firm while Hunter was in high school. Still, he grew up more than comfortable.
But this mansion was awe-inducing, and he’d only been here twice since they moved in five years ago.
He didn’t belong here. He knew it, and everyone else would too. As soon as he told his father happy birthday, he was heading
out.
Although he arrived early, another car pulled up behind him, prodding him to go inside. He wished he could call Britt or even
text her. But she’d said she was busy at K&Bs tonight and wouldn’t be able to answer her phone. He’d thought that was weird.
What would she be doing that kept her from her phone? In the end, it didn’t matter. He shouldn’t be on his phone anyway. He
needed to focus on his parents. He was only here because of them.
As soon as he walked through the door, he saw his mother... and his heart warmed. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized
how much he’d missed her. And with his mind clear instead of hazy with alcohol, he was suddenly hit with everything she had
tried to do to help him over the years. It put a lump in his throat.
“Hunter.” She sailed over to him in a whoosh of gray, sparkly satin and on a cloud of expensive, yet sparingly used, perfume.
“Thank you for coming.”
Normally she would envelope him in a hug and rest her cheek against his chest. Even though she was in high heels, he was still
over a foot taller than her. But she didn’t even shake his hand. She was keeping her distance, and he didn’t blame her.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Kirk and Payne appeared, both their jaws set in stone. He didn’t blame them for that either. They all had the same light-brown hair and hazel eyes, but his brothers were shorter, more dour versions of himself.
He looked at all three of them. “Thank you for inviting me. You won’t be sorry.”
“We better not be.” A muscle twitched in Payne’s cheek.
Kirk nodded. “Or you’ll be the one who’s sorry.”
“Boys,” Mother said in a firm, hushed tone. “Enough. Let’s just have a good time tonight. Your father only turns sixty once.”
His brothers nodded as they were joined by their wives.
“Nice to see you.” Everly hooked her arm around Payne’s waist.
Ashleigh, Kirk’s wife, nodded. “You’re looking good, Hunter.” She went over and hastily pecked his cheek.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, and from their bland expressions he could tell they were only being polite. He turned to Mother, and
out of habit, he almost asked for a drink, stopping himself in the nick of time. “I think I’ll get a Coke.”
“I’ll go with you.” Mother gave a sharp look at Everly and Ashleigh, then turned to Kirk and Payne. “You don’t mind greeting
the guests, do you?”
Hunter could tell they absolutely minded, but they both nodded.
Mother walked alongside him as they made their way to the expansive bar in the corner of the great room. The house was over twenty thousand square feet and there were many common areas throughout. The bedrooms were upstairs, along with two rooms that served as the art gallery, a passion of his mother’s. The whole house was designed in a traditional style, with marbled floors, crisp white walls, and lots of architectural details. Gold was everywhere in the house, softened by muted crimson reds, emerald greens, and slate blues.
He almost laughed as he realized how many details he was noticing at first glance. Britt really was influencing how he viewed
the world.
“You just missed the most charming young lady,” Mother said, her heels and his dress shoes making a sharp tapping sound on
the marble floors. “She’s dressed just like Audrey Hepburn.”
Hunter nodded. He couldn’t even conjure a clear image of Audrey Hepburn. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mother was still trying
to match him up with one of her high-society friend’s daughters. She’d been doing that up until she and his father cut him
off. Naturally, none of those women were interested in a high school dropout who couldn’t stay sober.
“We think very highly of her father,” Mother continued as they reached the bar. “I’ll have a...” She glanced at Hunter.
“Your usual?” the bartender said. Hunter didn’t recognize him, but the man obviously had worked his parents’ events before.
“No. Diet Coke, please.”
He looked surprised, then nodded. “And for you, sir?”
“The same.” Hunter leaned close to her. “You don’t have to teetotal on my account.”
She smiled. “I’ll have some champagne later.”
He straightened and returned her smile.
The bartender handed them their drinks, and they turned around. More people were milling about, but Mother stayed by his side.
“Anyway, about the young woman—”
“I’m gonna stop you there.” Hunter looked at her. “I’m not interested.”
“You haven’t even met her yet.”
“I don’t need to.” He took a sip, wondering if he should say anything about Britt. No more lies, right? “I’m seeing someone.”
His mother scoffed. “You’re always seeing someone.”
“It’s different this time.” His tone was low, softer than he intended.
She looked up at him, one perfectly manicured eyebrow lifted. “You’re serious.”
“Yes. I think... I think I might be in love with her.” Wow. He hadn’t expected those words to burst forth. But it was true. He knew he had to keep a lid on that in front of Britt, though.
They’d only known each other for a month or so. Way too soon to fall in love. But he couldn’t deny his feelings. Even now
he was wishing he’d talked her into coming tonight, even though he knew he’d made the right decision not to. She would be
uncomfortable the entire time. But he missed her. Wanted her by his side. Forever.
Mother stared at him as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“Lila! It’s been so long!” An older woman draped in shiny black fabric with a diamond choker around her neck—real diamonds
for sure—was floating toward them.
“Teresa!”
Hunter watched with slight amusement as the women kissed each other’s cheeks, then tried to surreptitiously gauge their clothing,
jewelry, and makeup. He’d seen this type of female interaction many times before with his mother and her friends. Once they’d
taken mental inventory, they dove into conversation about people he’d never met and knew nothing about. He slipped away, planning
to play wallflower until his father’s arrival in... He checked his watch and grimaced. He still had thirty minutes left.
His nerves ramped up and he glanced at the bar again. One shot of whiskey would calm them. But he couldn’t stop at one, so he didn’t need to start.
“Hunter?”
He turned to see a thin woman with long black hair wearing a plunging black strapless dress and platform heels move to stand
beside him. Uh-oh. What was her name? “Hey, uh...”
“Cara.” Her nose scrunched up. “That’s all you can say after you ghosted me three years ago?”
Oh boy. Three years ago was one big blur, right before he hit rock bottom. “I’m sorry—”
“It’s okay.” She moved in close. “I forgive you. I’m just glad to see you again. You look... yummy.” She inhaled. “Smell
yummy too.”
“Uh, thanks.” He gulped down half his Coke.
“You know, I broke up with my boyfriend last week.”
His gaze darted around the room, which was now filling up fast. He didn’t recognize anyone to the point where he could escape
Cara and go talk to them. He should have just stuck with his mother and Teresa.
“We could”—she ran her finger down the center of his shirt—“Pick up where we left off.”
***
Britt tugged at the index finger of one of her gloves as she gazed at the painting in front of her. Like all the other pieces
in the gallery, it was beautiful, and in the classical style. Although there weren’t any museum-quality pieces in the collection,
there were some expensive ones, most of them classical, except for two modern pieces—one in each room.
But as she tried to focus on the perfectly rendered eighteenth -century women having a pastoral picnic by a pond, she couldn’t ignore the heightened sounds of people and music downstairs. A few minutes ago, someone had started playing the baby grand in the room near the bottom of the spiral staircase. Lila had offered to give her and Dad a tour of the house in the future when more time permitted. Britt considered that a polite offer—she was sure she’d never see the inside of this house again. She could tell that her father hadn’t believed the woman either. It was a kind gesture, though.
“This one’s nice,” Dad said, sidling up to her.
Britt turned to him. “You’ve said that about all of them.”
“Because it’s true.” He shrugged. “I don’t know much about art.”
“I’ll be happy to teach you.”
“And I’ll be happy to learn.” He glanced at his watch. “We should get downstairs. I don’t want to miss Arthur’s arrival.”
She tugged on her glove again, then put her hands behind her back.
He peered down at her. “I’ll be right by your side, Brittany. Promise.”
“I know.” She looked at the picture again, wishing she could stay up here. There were even a couple of chairs in each room,
so people could sit and ponder the art. Or just visit with each other in a lovely setting. “Thanks for arranging this, Dad.”
“You’re welcome, honey. I’m glad I could do something nice for you.” He was staring at the painting again.
She took his hand and squeezed it. When he looked at her, he didn’t have to say anything. All the regrets and apologies for the past were right there in his eyes. He was making up for them now, and not just because he brought her to a fancy house to see art and attend a party. He’d consistently commented on her videos, texted her at least once a day, and they met in person once a week. He had more than proven himself.
She let go of his hand. “I’m going to tell Mom you’re back,” she said.
He turned to her. “Really?”
“Yes. Tomorrow.” She faced him. “I’ll convince her that you’ve changed. Because I believe you have.”
Dad pulled her into a strong hug. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Brittany. I won’t let you or your mother down.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned into him. When she put her arms around him, her eyes misted.
“Thank you, Brittany.” He kissed her temple.
The hole in her heart that had been there when he left and had been growing smaller since his return, finally closed. I love you. But before she could say the words, he pulled away.
“Sorry,” he said, looking over her dress. “I didn’t mess you up, did I?”
“No,” she said, blinking back tears. “I’m good.” More than good. She had her father back.
A tall man wearing a white suit jacket, black pants, and matching bow tie entered the gallery. “Ms. Lila requests that you
join the party downstairs.”
At his words, her anxiety kicked in. But only a little. Her father was by her side. Everything would be all right.
He guided her toward the door, and they made their way down the grand staircase. Tinkling piano keys mixed with the hum of
conversation, the sounds growing louder as she neared the first floor. She could see the whole front room, the dazzling dresses
and smart tuxes blending as her heart hammered in her chest. These weren’t her people. Not even close.
She was about to step on the marble floor when she turned to the right... and her heart skipped a beat. A gorgeous man who looked like Hunter was standing off to the side with a beautiful dark-haired woman hanging all over him.
He lifted his head, looked straight at Britt, and her heart stopped.