Page 79 of Payback
STARING AT MY REFLECTION INthe mirror, I can’t help but swivel my hips in the bronze, metallic evening gown that Leslie designed for me. As the light catches the material with every flicker of movement, I marvel over Leslie’s talents. The dress is the same one I tried on at her boutique several weeks ago, but now Freya has tailored it to me so well, it feels like a second skin. It has the thinnest of spaghetti straps with a sweetheart neckline and cinches tightly at the waist, highlighting my hourglass figure. My golden locks are curled into beachy waves, and my eyes are dark and dramatic with my red-orange matte lip stain.
I look good. I need to look good, though, because tonight is the Get Fit Britain Gala and Roan’s date is a leggy brunette from Madrid who looks like a supermodel. She’s exactly the type that athletes have on their arms at red carpet events.
When Niall had me run a background check on her, I had a mini panic attack when I came across her Instagram page. She seems to never wear anything other than a bikini. And since she’s only twenty-one years old, her body looks airbrushed all the time. I would have much rather picked a different winner for Roan, but I couldn’t exactly tell my boss I was in a relationship with Roan one minute and then tell him I wanted to pick a less attractive date for him the next. How unprofessional would that have been?
So I put on a happy face as I greeted Roan’s date who was accompanied by her mother at the hotel yesterday. By now, Roan is on a romantic tour of London with her before they will arrive at the red carpet promptly at seven o’clock for the gala.
I keep reminding myself that jealousy can be foreplay. That’s what Roan taught me in his kitchen a while back. Hopefully that means after he says goodbye to his date tonight, I’ll have plenty of opportunity to show him just how green-eyed I feel over this evening.
In all honesty, though, I trust Roan. Even after the heartbreak that finding Ghost Penis and Rosalie in bed together caused me, I don’t worry that Roan will do the same. Our trip to Cape Town changed things between us.
The final day of our trip was spent entirely with his mother and sisters. We saw sights. We drank wine and sampled local foods. I watched Roan salsa with his mother in the kitchen. Mia and Ava French braided my hair at the beach. It was like I was one of the family. Different from my own family dynamic in Chicago, and even different from my extended family in London. It was completely special and something that will stick with me forever.
When Roan’s mother squeezed me goodbye at the airport, she brushed a piece of hair out of my face and said that she was going to sleep better knowing that Roan had someone like me taking care of him in London. It was amazing.
It felt like I was home when I was only a visitor.
Sleeping on Roan’s shoulder on the plane ride home, I felt content for the first time in a long time. Everything I feel with Roan—the love I am embracing for him—is a truer, more honest, and more genuine love than I’ve ever experienced. The only thing standing between me and my future with this sexy and surprising South African of mine is my trip to Chicago.
I’ll get the gala over with tonight and then next weekend is Rosalie and Ghost Penis’ wedding. I plan to be in and out of the wedding as fast as I was when I came to London for Aunt Fiona’s. I’ll stay long enough for Rosalie to get married. Then she will hopefully forget that I exist.
I’m just putting my phone into my clutch to leave when my father’s name illuminates my cell screen with a call. My brows furrow because I haven’t heard from him since moving to London, other than a short email asking if I got settled in okay.
I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Hello, Alice,” Charles Harris says crisply into the line, sounding like he’s conducting a business call instead of speaking to his daughter whose voice he hasn’t heard in weeks.
“Hi, Dad,” I reply warily. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I just wanted to wish you luck on your big night tonight.”
My head jerks back. “You know about the gala?”
“Yes. I have Facebook.”
“I didn’t know you actually use it.”
He exhales into the line. “I checked it out after I got a call from Vaughn a few weeks ago. He seems to think I’m not taking enough interest in you. Is that how you see it?”
I wince at his bluntness. My father has never been one to beat around the bush, but this conversation is not something I was prepared to have right before I walked out the door. This is more like a topic for family therapy.
“Dad, look. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m doing really well in London actually.”
“Yes, that’s what I hear from Vaughn. It would have been nice to hear it from you.”
I hold back a laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
“Why would I joke about such a thing?”
“Because you never ask about my life,” I snap, my frustration from this ridiculous call bubbling over.
“That’s because you always tell me,” he retorts simply. “You’re the one who always initiates communication.”
“And you think that’s okay?”
“I don’t bloody know. I just know that’s how it’s always been between us. Ever since we moved to America, that’s been our system.”
“Some system,” I scoff.
