Chapter 7 #3
“Merry Christmas! I thought the holidays would be a perfect time for everyone to meet Noémie before we get married in a few weeks.”
The room fell silent with the exception of the party staff still moving about, making sure everything was exactly to her mother’s liking. All eyes fell on Colleen as if the room were collectively waiting to see how she would respond.
“Married?” her mom repeated, gaze darting between Austin, who was looking exceptionally pleased with himself, and Noémie, who held up her left hand, a sapphire engagement ring sitting prominently on her ring finger.
Annie looked to her father, still standing next to her. His shocked expression made her feel a little bit better that he too had been left in the dark. The silence persisted for a moment longer before Annie couldn’t take it anymore.
“Oooh,” Annie squealed excitedly, “let me see the ring!” She stepped toward Noémie, placing a reassuring hand on her arm, squeezing gently as if to say, Welcome to the shitshow family; are you sure you want this?
“Damn, at least he did a good job with the ring. This thing is gorgeous.” She inspected the sparkling gems more closely.
It really was beautiful, one solitaire emerald-cut sapphire flanked by two smaller diamonds on either side.
“I can’t wait to hear all about the proposal. ”
Before anyone else could speak, one of the catering staff popped her head into the kitchen. “Mrs. Dillinger, the first of your guests has arrived.”
With a meticulous flick of her wrist, her mother snapped the binder on the counter closed, once again looking between Austin and Noémie and letting out a long breath.
“It was very nice to meet you, Naomi. Andrew, let’s go; we have guests to greet,” she said, moving past the pair and grabbing her husband’s hand, dragging him into the foyer.
“It’s Noémie,” Austin called after their mother, but it was unclear whether the correction reached her. He turned to face everyone still standing in the kitchen. “Well, that went great,” he said cheerfully.
They all burst out laughing as Drew stepped forward, holding his hand out to Noémie. “Welcome to the family. We can be an entertaining bunch. Andrew Junior, but please call me Drew.”
Avery’s eyes flicked to their brother, indignation on her face. “Since when?”
Drew bristled, rolling his shoulders slightly in a movement Annie recognized from over the years. “In the last few months. I like it better.”
“Dude, took you long enough. I love this for you, man.” Austin clapped Drew on the back, resting his forearm on Drew’s shoulder.
Where Austin was tall and lanky with fiery red hair, Drew was shorter, a little under six feet, with a slightly stockier build and fair blond hair.
Avery, like Austin, had inherited the height and red hair.
Annie mirrored Drew in looks and build, but with a touch more of a ginger tint in her blond strands.
The four of them, standing side by side, created the perfect spectral display of the various mixes of Dillinger genetics.
“I’m Avery, and this is my husband Brett. Welcome to the fam, I guess.” Avery patted Brett’s bicep. “C’mon sweetie, we should go help with welcoming guests.”
Brett protested, “You go, I want to stay here and chat,” but a stern look from Avery had him quickly falling in line. “Nice to meet you!” he called over his shoulder. “Can’t wait to talk more.”
“We should probably go out there; you know how Mom gets about party etiquette.” Annie punched her brother’s arm playfully. “You could have given me a heads up about all this.”
Austin rubbed his arm, a pout firmly in place even though they both knew she had barely touched him. “I could have. But you know I love the wow factor.”
It was true. Austin had always been the most boisterous of the bunch, loud and over the top, and always at the center of everything. She looked at Noémie. “Are you sure this is who you want as your husband?”
Austin put his arm around Noémie’s waist, pulling her to him and placing a kiss on her cheek as she responded with a smile. “He might be an attention seeker, but I promise I always put him in his place.”
“She really does.” Austin nodded vigorously.
“Then welcome to the family, Noémie,” Annie said, turning and ducking out of the kitchen.
She walked through the narrow hall leading to the dining room, allowing her to bypass the foyer.
She had one goal tonight: Avoid as much awkward small talk as possible.
Her plan—always be on the move. Continuously circling to find the least crowded rooms and, when absolutely needed, hide upstairs. There was no shame in that game.
A nudge against her shoulder shifted her attention to Drew, his arm stretched out to her, a shot glass in hand. “Thought you might want this.” He grinned, knocking back the shot of golden liquid.
Annie took the shot, sniffing it and crinkling her nose at the burn of synthetic cinnamon instantly triggering the memory of stealing their grandfather’s Red Hot candies. “It’s been a minute since I’ve ripped a straight shot of this stuff.”
“Don’t be a wuss,” Drew egged her on.
Annie glared at him, bringing the glass to her lips and tilting her head back as the liquid burned the back of her throat in a fiery bite. Her face twisted with her disgust. She’d never been very good at taking shots.
“Good luck,” she said.
“And godspeed,” Drew answered.
For the next hour and a half, Annie mingled her way through the party.
Striking up pleasant and appropriate conversation with her parents’ friends and acquaintances.
Mingling was a skill taught early in the Dillinger household, one that by now she had perfected and turned into an art form.
This party had always meant so much to her mom so Annie pretended to care, acting like she was interested in what these people had to say.
After successfully distracting Mrs. Pittman, her old cello instructor, by pointing Austin out across the room, Annie ducked up the back stairs. She slipped into her bedroom, closed the door softly behind her, and leaned her back against it.
She didn’t bother turning on the light; she wanted to be in the dark, in the quiet, alone.
The muffled sounds of the party going on below drifted up through the aged wooden plank flooring.
She took a deep breath, then another, moving towards the mirror above the dresser.
She flattened the flyaways that had managed to escape her meticulous slick-back.
Leaning back, she admired her work, straightening the golden pendant locket, centering it against her black turtleneck.
A soft knock at the door surprised her, but not nearly as much as who was on the other side.
“Caroline,” she breathed.
Ugh.
“I thought I might find you up here. Can I come in?” Caroline’s voice was soft, the one she used when she needed something, which instantly made Annie uneasy. But she didn’t say no. She didn’t say anything.
A moment passed, long and slow and uncomfortable, before Annie flicked on the light and pulled the door open, inviting her into the same bedroom they had shared on numerous visits home to Wellington Point—the only difference now being instead of their suitcases strewn out across the floor, it was all of Annie’s belongings.
“What do you want?” Annie spat. Annoyance at Caroline’s audacity to even seek her out tonight creeping into her words.
Caroline’s answer was measured and even.
“I want to talk. Calmly and rationally. And it looks like I’m in luck; I don’t see a beverage in sight.
” A hint of a small smile ghosted her lips, and Annie hated that she wanted to smile too.
She could always appreciate a self-deprecating dig, especially when totally and completely warranted.
“I’m not sorry about that.”
“And you shouldn’t be.”
More uncomfortable silence passed between them, but unlike the ones Annie was usually so quick to fill, she let them sit in this one, really wanting Caroline to feel how not okay all of this was.
“I guess I’ll start,” Caroline offered, heels clicking against the wooden floors as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
Annie leaned against the dresser, running her palms nervously down her green-and-black plaid-covered thighs.
“I”m sorry, Annie. I really messed up. I acted impulsively, and I’m not proud of what I did to you.”
Annie listened to Caroline’s words, ears finely attuned to each syllable, yearning to hear even the tiniest hint of emotion that would make her believe what she was saying.
But it wasn’t there. And she knew it wouldn’t be.
Because this was Caroline, and this was one of her Caroline apologies where all the right words would be said, laid out neatly and concisely, exactly how they should be. The only thing missing? The feeling.
She cut Caroline off. “Why did you sell the townhouse and move back here?”
Caroline took a deep breath, her mouth forming a thin line—her tell that she was annoyed Annie had interrupted, that Annie had taken the upper hand in the conversation. “Plans changed,” she said flatly.
“Actions have consequences,” Annie snapped, a white-hot heat flaring in her chest at the utter minimization of the hurt Caroline had burdened her with.
“Yes, and I’m attempting to apologize for my actions.” The softness in Caroline’s voice was gone, replaced by irritation.
Annie crossed her arms defensively. “Just answer my question. Why here? Why couldn’t you let me make a clean break from you?”
“Because I don’t think we’re supposed to be done yet,” Caroline said, voice cracking.
Even in the warm hue of her childhood bedroom lighting, Annie could see the blush blooming across the tops of Caroline’s cheeks in the same way it did whenever she was being vulnerable with her—a rare occurrence.
“Because I love you, because I want the future you and I always talked about. Because I think you feel the same.”