Page 39 of Empty Net

“So your parents should know her.” She nods, even though it’s not a question. “How come this party isn’t being held at The Sinclair?”

Lilah snorts, the noise so loud it echoes off the high ceilings. “My parents aren’t the biggest fans of Auden.”

“What? Why? Auden’s awesome.”

“Sheisawesome, possibly the greatest person I know, and I love her like a sister. But I grew up with a lot more money than Auden did.”

“Her father was an NHL player, right?”

“Yes, but it was never enough for them. They considered them to be rich but on the lower end of rich. Which I find extremely funny now considering Auden’s net worth is more than my father could ever imagine.” Lilah grins like she’s immensely pleased by this, and I can’t say I blame her. It makes me even more proud of Auden than I already am. “Another reason they were so upset I continued working with her.”

I still don’t understand how they can be so unimpressed by what Lilah has done for Auden’s company, don’t get why they talk about her job like all she did was staple papers together all day—not that there’s anything wrong with that—never mind keep Auden’s business going for her. I’m now even less excited to meet these people, and the bar was already incredibly low.

“Why are you attending this party again?”

She trips like my words have caught her off guard, and I catch her effortlessly.

“Thanks,” she mutters as we approach the two doors between us and this party I have a feeling Lilah doesn’t want to be part of.“I don’t know. I’m…I’m being a dutiful daughter, I guess. Have you ever felt like that before? Like you’re doing something you don’t want to do just to be a good child to your parents?”

“Why do you think I’m such an incredible dancer? I didn’t want those lessons, but my mother insisted.”

She laughs. “Yes, that’s exactly the same thing, Fox.”

It’s not, and we both know it, but maybe humor is the only way she can get through this. When we’re just a few feet from the doors, Lilah stops, her arm falling away from mine as she stares down the door. She takes a deep breath, then another, like she’s readying herself for battle, and for her, she really might be.

“I’m right here,” I tell her softly, reaching my pinky finger out and tracing it against hers.

She glances down at where our digits touch, a small smile on her lips.

“My hero,” she mutters, and even though she’s going for sarcasm, there’s a hint of sincerity to her words, and it has my chest feeling tight in a way I’m not expecting.

I’ve known Lilah at arm’s length for the last year and always thought she was fun, a total good time. But seeing this other side of her lately? It’s making me question everything I’ve known about her, and it makes me like her even more.

She slips her hand into mine, then squeezes it tight. “Here goes nothing.”

The staff pulls open the doors in sync as if they’ve practiced it, and we’re instantly hit with the sound of classical music. I can’t help but laugh—nearly every person is dressed in a muted color and over the age of sixty, at least. This is such a far cry from how we spent last weekend.

“What’s so funny?” Lilah asks, looking up at me.

“It’s just…” I shake my head. “Well, last week, we were dancing to nineties and early 2000s music, and now it’s Vivaldi.Based on the color scheme here, I’m pretty sure this is secretly a funeral.”

“Why do you think I had so much fun last weekend? I knew this one would suck. I—oh, champagne!” She snatches a glass from the tray a server holds and immediately tosses it back like a shot. When she notices me staring, she lifts a single brow. “What? I’m just pre-gaming.”

I shake my head but can’t help but grin as we push through the party, searching for Lilah’s parents, I assume. Several people smile at us, some even whispering behind their hands as we pass, something I’ve only seen happen in movies, but we don’t let that stop us.

We don’t stop until we come face to face with the woman I saw on the phone, and I’m instantly blown away by how much Lilah looks like her mother in proper lighting. Selene’s hair is pulled back in a sleek bun, her eyes the same shade of blue as her daughter’s, and even the way she holds her nose just slightly upturned is the same way Lilah carries herself. It’s eerie.

“Lilah!” her mother exclaims, throwing her arms wide and pulling her daughter into a tight hug.

To most people, it looks like a sweet embrace, but to me? Well, I can see the rigid set of Lilah’s shoulders, can see how stiff she is against her mother’s touch. I canfeelthe tension radiating from her, and that’s after a glass of champagne.

Her mother grabs her cheeks, smiling at her like she’s the greatest accomplishment in her life, but I still see the way the woman subtly fixes Lilah’s makeup under her left eye, how tight her grip is, how her blue gaze hardens, and how forced her smile becomes with each passing second. I’ve never seen someone so subtly cut someone down before.

“I amsohappy you could join us,” Selene says as she releases her daughter.

Translation: You’re late.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Lilah tells her. She steps back, immediately twining our fingers together once more. Something about it feels desperate, like she’s not seeking me out for show but for support.

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