Hunter could tell they absolutely minded, but they both nodded.
Mother walked alongside him as they made their way to the expansive bar in the corner of the great room. The house was over twenty thousand square feet and there were many common areas throughout. The bedrooms were upstairs, along with two rooms that served as the art gallery, a passion of his mother’s. The whole house was designed in a traditional style, with marbled floors, crisp white walls, and lots of architecturaldetails. Gold was everywhere in the house, softened by muted crimson reds, emerald greens, and slate blues.
He almost laughed as he realized how many details he was noticing at first glance. Britt really was influencing how he viewed the world.
“You just missed the most charming young lady,” Mother said, her heels and his dress shoes making a sharp tapping sound on the marble floors. “She’s dressed just like Audrey Hepburn.”
Hunter nodded. He couldn’t even conjure a clear image of Audrey Hepburn. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mother was still trying to match him up with one of her high-society friend’s daughters. She’d been doing that up until she and his father cut him off. Naturally, none of those women were interested in a high school dropout who couldn’t stay sober.
“We think very highly of her father,” Mother continued as they reached the bar. “I’ll have a...” She glanced at Hunter.
“Your usual?” the bartender said. Hunter didn’t recognize him, but the man obviously had worked his parents’ events before.
“No. Diet Coke, please.”
He looked surprised, then nodded. “And for you, sir?”
“The same.” Hunter leaned close to her. “You don’t have to teetotal on my account.”
She smiled. “I’ll have some champagne later.”
He straightened and returned her smile.
The bartender handed them their drinks, and they turned around. More people were milling about, but Mother stayed by his side.
“Anyway, about the young woman—”
“I’m gonna stop you there.” Hunter looked at her. “I’m not interested.”
“You haven’t even met her yet.”
“I don’t need to.” He took a sip, wondering if he should say anything about Britt.No more lies, right?“I’m seeing someone.”
His mother scoffed. “You’re alwaysseeingsomeone.”
“It’s different this time.” His tone was low, softer than he intended.
She looked up at him, one perfectly manicured eyebrow lifted. “You’re serious.”
“Yes. I think... I think I might be in love with her.”Wow.He hadn’t expected those words to burst forth. But it was true. He knew he had to keep a lid on that in front of Britt, though. They’d only known each other for a month or so. Way too soon to fall in love. But he couldn’t deny his feelings. Even now he was wishing he’d talked her into coming tonight, even though he knew he’d made the right decision not to. She would be uncomfortable the entire time. But he missed her. Wanted her by his side.Forever.
Mother stared at him as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“Lila! It’s been so long!” An older woman draped in shiny black fabric with a diamond choker around her neck—real diamonds for sure—was floating toward them.
“Teresa!”
Hunter watched with slight amusement as the women kissed each other’s cheeks, then tried to surreptitiously gauge their clothing, jewelry, and makeup. He’d seen this type of female interaction many times before with his mother and her friends. Once they’d taken mental inventory, they dove into conversation about people he’d never met and knew nothing about. He slipped away, planning to play wallflower until his father’s arrival in... He checked his watch and grimaced. He still had thirty minutes left.
His nerves ramped up and he glanced at the bar again. Oneshot of whiskey would calm them. But he couldn’t stop at one, so he didn’t need to start.
“Hunter?”
He turned to see a thin woman with long black hair wearing a plunging black strapless dress and platform heels move to stand beside him.Uh-oh.What was her name? “Hey, uh...”
“Cara.” Her nose scrunched up. “That’s all you can say after you ghosted me three years ago?”
Oh boy.Three years ago was one big blur, right before he hit rock bottom. “I’m sorry—”
