Chapter 20 - Lucy #2
I pick up my clutch and hold myself together with the last scraps of dignity I own.
“Excuse me,” I say evenly and head towards the restroom.
Theo’s eyes flick to mine, apology and anger tangled together.
The restroom is marble and diffused lighting, and women are fixing their lipstick as if their lives were made of silk rather than survival.
I step into a stall and grip the edge of the sink afterward, breathing slowly, counting to five, then ten. I stare at my reflection.
My hair is still curled up in its pins. My makeup is soft.
I look beautiful.
And I have never felt more like an imposter.
Okay, Lucy. You don’t get to fall apart. Not here.
I reapply lip colour with careful hands. I dab under my eyes in case there’s moisture there. I straighten my posture and practice the expression I’ve been wearing all my life:
Fine.
Capable.
Untouchable.
When I return to the table, the song has changed.
And Julian is nowhere to be seen.
My seat is open now, so I sit.
Theo drops into the chair beside me like a guard dog pretending to be charming.
“You, okay?” he asks, too casual.
I smile. “Of course.”
Theo’s jaw ticks like he doesn’t believe me.
One song passes.
Then another.
People circle the table. Donors, board members, wives with diamonds that catch the light when they gesture.
I answer questions about event planning. I laugh at something Elliot says.
And still, Julian doesn’t come back.
Then I see him.
For one humiliating second, relief flares, because he’s walking in our direction.
And then he veers.
And he steps onto the dance floor.
With another woman.
Not the same one as before.
Another stunning, perfect woman who looks like she was selected, curated, and approved.
My stomach sinks so hard I almost feel it in my throat.
I stare at my champagne flute because I can’t stare at him.
I remind myself, again, that he owes me nothing.
But my chest aches anyway.
Because he brought me here.
He sent the dress.
He made it feel, just for a moment, like he wanted me here because he wanted me.
And now I’m sitting at his table while he dances with other women.
If this is how his world works, I want no part of it.
Theo is watching the dance floor now, expression dark. Not confused.
Angry.
Rowan’s gaze flicks to me, sharp and quiet.
Caleb watches his drink like he’s not watching anything.
I keep smiling.
It feels like my face is going to crack.
A donor couple approaches and asks how I know Julian.
I say something neutral. Something safe. I laugh at the right times.
Because I’ve been doing this my whole life: performing okay-ness when I’m bleeding inside.
Caleb turns slightly toward me after the donor leaves.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks, voice low, gentle. Not flirtation. Rescue.
I almost say yes.
Not because I want to dance with Caleb.
Because I need to stop sitting here like a discarded toy.
But before I can answer, a presence slots into the space beside me.
“Lucy,” Graham says, smiling like the night has been waiting for him.
I look once, just once, toward the dance floor.
Julian is still dancing with another woman in his arms.
Fine.
If Julian North can treat me like a prop, then I can stop acting like this is anything I want to be a part of.
I stand.
Graham offers his hand, and I take it.
He leads me out mid-song like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like, he’s not stealing a narrative right in front of everyone.
The dance is smooth. Easy. He holds me with the confidence of a man who thinks he can have whatever he wants.
And the worst part is: being paid attention to feels good.
I hate that. I hate myself for it.
When the song ends, Graham doesn’t let go immediately. He pulls me into him, and it doesn't make me uncomfortable; it feels almost natural.
“Another?” he asks.
I hesitate, then I glance up.
Julian is off the dance floor now. He’s standing with his parents, and beside them is a tall, elegant woman who seems to belong there.
Julian’s face is blank. Controlled. But he’s there, with them.
And I’m not.
“That would be lovely,” I say quietly.
During the next song, Graham leans in.
“I wanted to talk to you about work,” he says.
I blink. “Work?”
“My foundations,” he explains. “I need someone to work with me directly. Someone I can trust. Someone who cares about the actual causes. Someone who can handle more than just events, the community, the logistics...”
His eyes hold mine. “Someone like you.”
My brain stutters.
“I’d love to meet for lunch or dinner next week,” he continues. “There’s something here, and if I am being honest... that isn't the only reason.”
He pauses like he’s about to say something else, but he doesn’t get the chance.
Caleb appears at the edge of the dance floor, holding my clutch in one hand.
His expression has shifted from composed to… intent.
“Lucy,” he says quietly. “Your phone has been going off.”
The world narrows instantly. Only two numbers can break through my do-not-disturb settings.
Mom.
Em.
My hands shake as I step toward him and reach for my clutch.
“Thank you,” I whisper. "Excuse me, I need to take this."
I don’t wait for the song to end. I step away from Graham, away from the floor, away from everything.
I call Emily.
She answers on the second ring.
“Lu,” she says, voice shaking. “It’s Mom. She’s in the hospital.”
My body goes still, like my soul just stepped out of it.
“What happened?” I ask, and my voice doesn’t sound like mine.
“She collapsed,” Em says quickly. “I left her in the kitchen for a few minutes to shower, and when I came out, she was on the floor, and I couldn't wake her up.”
“I’m coming,” I say, already moving. “I’m coming right now.”
I turn and almost collide with Caleb.
Graham is behind him.
They both followed.
I don’t have the energy to ask why.
“My moms in the hospital,” I say, breathless. “I have to go.”
Caleb’s gaze sharpens. “I’ll get Julian.”
The thought of waiting for Julian, of tracking him down while he’s with his parents, with his other women, with anyone who isn't me...
Something bitter rises in my throat.
“No,” I say quickly. Too quickly. “Don’t. He seems… busy.”
Caleb pauses, like he hears what I’m not saying.
Graham steps in, calm and firm. “You won’t get a taxi out front,” he says. “Not with this event. My driver can have the car ready in two minutes.”
“I can't...”
“You need to get to your mother,” he says simply. “Let me help.”
I hate accepting help.
I hate it.
But my mother is in a hospital bed, and I am standing under chandelier light, wearing a dress that cost more than my rent.
So I nod.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Caleb watches me for a beat like he wants to say something else.
Then he says, “Are you sure I can't get Julian for you...”
The look on his face tells me he knows my answer.
“No,” I say cooly. “Let him enjoy his evening. It won't matter anyway.”
Caleb nods once and turns away.
Graham guides me toward the coat check.
As we move, I don’t look back into the ballroom.
I don’t search for Julian.
Because if I see him, I'll break, and I cannot afford that right now.
And right now, the only thing I’m allowed to feel is urgency.
My mother needs me.
Everything else can wait.