“I’m an event planner.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Which events have you done that I’d have heard of?”
“None. I’m an in-house event planner.”
“Oh, dear.” She took a sip of wine, deciding not to comment on my career choice any further. “It’s peculiar that I’ve never seen you before at parties and events in London since you and Cordelia are so close.”
“I work most weekends.”
“And strange that Cordelia’s never talked about you.”
“Do you two hang out and chat a lot? I didn’t think you did.”
Touché,said her look. “We’re not really in the same circles, these days. Cordelia’s not so—how do I put it?—sociable, I suppose. You must be very patient. It’s a shame when people can’t connect with others.” She glanced at Cordelia sympathetically, lowering her voice so only I could hear. “They hide away in the shadows with their self-destructive habits, terrified to step into the limelight.”
I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “The limelight isn’t for everyone.”
She looked me up and down. “Clearly.”
Georgia interrupted our conversation to ask Annabel to tell the entertaining story about when she’d saved a hedgehog, and I was left more confused than ever. I wondered what on earth had gone down between Cordelia and Annabel, and only realized I’d been staring at Cordelia when she caught my eye. I quickly looked down at my plate and spent the rest of the evening trying to blend into the background and dodge any more personal questions that came my way.
It was a very odd evening.
Once I’ve showered and dressed, I emerge from my bedroom and try to remember how to get downstairs to the breakfast room. After a couple of wrong turnings, one of which leads me into abroom cupboard, I get to a kitchen and catch Tom still in his running gear, rummaging in the fridge.
“Hi,” I say brightly.
“Hey,” he replies, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Sorry, I couldn’t work out what you were saying through the window.”
“It was nothing.”
“How did you sleep?”
“Really well, thanks. You?”
“Yeah, I was exhausted after an evening listening to Georgia tell me how wonderful she is.” He grins, grabbing some orange juice and closing the fridge door.
He unscrews the lid and drinks from the carton, causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust. “What?” He lowers the juice.
“You shouldn’t drink directly from the carton,” I tell him sternly. “I hope you’re not planning on putting that back.”
“Oh, you’re precious about that kind of thing, are you?”
“That’s not being precious! It’s just not being gross.”
“Cordelia always yells at me for doing it, too,” he informs me, amused. “Which is why I continue to do it. Nothing better than winding her up.”
“So mature.”
Something about the way he’s looking at me makes my heart beat really fast, thudding in my chest so boldly I can hear it. I look away, pretending to be interested in the kitchen surface.
“Have you had breakfast?”
“I was going to grab some,” I say. “Is there any toast or anything?”
“It’s all laid out in the dining room. You can help yourself.”
“Of course it is,” I say, trying not to laugh so he doesn’t think I’m being rude. “I forgot I was in Dashwell Hall.”
