Page 65 of Dear Adam
“That’s great! Where is the gala?” I try again.
“I think you can do better,” she says. I hear kissy noises, and now I know for certain Hank will never forgive me.
“Did you see anything exciting on your drive today?”
“Oh yes! Lots. Hold on, I’ll send you a picture.” Her voice gets far away and after some furious tapping in my ear, my phone vibrates again. A picture of Glenda’s face fills the screen, and I can barely make out the Grand Canyon in the background.
“That’s great! The Grand Canyon, huh?” I say, feigning enthusiasm. I quiet my tapping foot and take another deep breath.
“One more,” Glenda says, and my phone vibrates again. This time it’s a picture of Hank sitting in front of a random gas station.
“That’s…great,” I say. “Thanks for those.”
“Now, would you like to know where the gala is?” Glenda asks.
“More than anything.”
“It’s at her parent’s house. Where else would it be?”
“A convention center, a restaurant, literally anywhere but there.”
Glenda ignores me and says, “Welp, I found a real fun motel on the side of the road in Arizona. You know, like the ones you see in murder mystery documentaries? Anyway, Hank and I have a bubble bath to get into.”
“I don’t think Hank really likes bubble baths,” I say. “And I wouldnotsubject myself to whatever is in that bathtub.”
“Call you tomorrow!” Glenda says and hangs up.
I slide my phone back into my pocket, say a prayer for my poor, sweet, undeserving dog, and take off toward Aly’s parents’ house.
As I round the corner of their street, out of breath, the large mansion comes into view. The wrought iron gates are open and cars I can’t even pronounce the names of pull up, spilling people in tuxedos and ball gowns onto the drive. I look down at my own attire of black tee and jeans and mutter a little curse. How can I get in there?
I sneak up the sidewalk while brushing my hands across my shirt in an attempt to get the airplane wrinkles out when I see it: Aly’s Bronco.
Bingo.
Up ahead, a woman with long, wavy, sandy brown hair in a floor-length yellow dress stands with her back to me, and I know without a doubt it’s her.
“Aly!” I call, but she’s too far away. “Aly!” I holler again. She stops momentarily and turns her head, looking around, but continues on after being unable to locate the voice. I run after her, but I’m stopped when a man in all black walks up to me.
“Can I help you?” he asks with an amused expression on his face. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and has a mic in his ear.
“You can,” I say, my eyes trailing Aly. If he keeps me here any longer, I’m going to lose sight of her. “You can let me go.”
“Not happening,” the security guard says.
“No, it’s fine I promise. I know her,” I say and point to Aly behind his shoulder.
He turns around and gives Aly a once over. “Aly Bloomington? The daughter of the owner and CEO of Bloomington Boat Works? I’m sure you do.” He looks me up and down and smirks. Aly moves further and further away, and a man joins her. He’s tall, wearing a tuxedo, and my heart sinks when I realize it’s Hudson. He links arms with her, and they disappear behind the gate.
“You know what?” I say to the bodyguard. “You’re right. Sorry for your trouble.”
I turn and walk in the opposite direction, confusion and hurt gripping at my chest.
Chapter thirty
Aly
“Youlookhot,”Hudsonsays and links his arm through mine. I crane my neck, sweeping my gaze over the crowd, and he says, “What are you looking for?”
