Page 86 of Snowed In
Oh. Right. My palms grow clammy, unusual shyness overtaking me as I put my clutch on the hall table and slip the coat off my shoulders, smoothing the skirts in a nervous tic.
Christian’s whole body goes still as he takes me in, his gaze dropping to my heels and back up again, lingering on the bodice. I hold my breath, anticipation thrumming through me as his face flickers with something unreadable, an emotion gone too quick for me to catch.
And then he smiles.
It’s a…nice smile.
A normal smile.
A normal, friendly, pleasant smile, and one that I’m immediately disappointed by.
“You look stunning,” he says, and while the words are right, I’m instantly transported back to my apartment, moments before our first “date.”You look great,he’d said back then, in that same exact tone, and I just thought…I don’t know what I thought.
“Thanks.” I pull my coat back on, covering it up again. “You look nice too.”
“Tied my own bow tie and everything,” he says, holding out his arm, and I place my hand on the crook of his elbow and let him lead me out of the house and into his car.
“Nervous?” he asks, as he pulls onto the road. He doesn’t wait for an answer, taking one look at my expression before smiling.
“Yes,” we say in unison, and he laughs.
“Here.” He fiddles with the radio, finding some festive music, and turns the volume up as he heads away from the village.
It weirdly helps, and I’m doing fine until we are near the hotel, when my stomach starts twisting with anxiety. It’s not so bad that I ask him to turn around, but it’s enough that I wish I had followed my mother’s example and did a little pre-drinking to take the edge off.
Hey!I want to point out when he pulls into the parking lot.This is where I fled in a taxi.And over there is where I thought you were going to rat me out. See that window up above? That’s the one I spent thirty minutes at, wondering if I could Rapunzel my way down with a bedsheet.
“You good?” Christian asks, and it’s only then I realize we’re parked.
“I’m something. You’ll tell me if I get sweat patches?”
“I thought that was why I was here?”
I take more time than I need getting out, but Christian’s patient with me. He doesn’t say a word while I fuss over my dress, adjust my heels, check my hair. Just lets me stall for time, even though I’m buying mere seconds at most.
“We’ll stay an hour,” he says when we finally wind our way through the parked cars toward the entrance. “One hour, and then if you want to leave, we’ll leave. We’ll tell them I had some bad oysters, and that’s that.”
I nod jerkily, my gaze on the train of my dress. Hannah did a beautiful job with it, and it’s a perfect fit, but I haven’t worn anything like it in a while, and as we climb the steps, I’m extra careful that nothing catches on my heels.
“People will want to talk to me,” I remind him as we reach the top.
“So we’ll talk.”
“And you need to act like we’re—”
“Megan.” His finger goes to my chin, and he tips my head up so our eyes meet. “Not alone, remember? I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”
“Right. I know.” I blow out a breath. “Thank you.”
“Just remember,” he continues as he leads me over to a server with a tray of champagne. “I’m really, really good at this.”
“At what?”
“Pretending,” he says, and he gives me a wink as we enter the ballroom.
Mam’s really outdone herself this year. I know it wasn’t her climbing the ladders to drape swathes of red velvet ribbons around the room or dust the glittering chandeliers that hang above us, but it’s a lot of work organizing something on this scale, and she puts a lot of time into it. Several hundred people mill about the main ballroom, all dressed in their finest as photographers slink in and out, and the whole place feels alive with excitement. It will get messier later. It always does. But right now, a few days out from Christmas, everyone’s on their best behavior. Not a drink spilled or a hair out of place.
I just wish I could enjoy it more.
