“No, are you kidding? You’re an incredible pianist.”
“I told you,” I say, wiggling my fingers at her, and she snorts. “Don’t worry about my dad either. He’s a nice guy. He’s chill.”
“Did you tell him I was coming?” she asks, and I blow out a breath. Honestly, I haven’t spoken to my dad much since I got the SEI. I haven’t told him I got accepted, and I don’t know why I can’t just say the words. I know he’s going to be proud of me, but I still feel like if I tell him, that also means admitting to him, and myself, that I don’t want to work at B&Co anymore, which is a whole other thing I don’t feel like spiralling about right now. Scarlett’s eyes widen and she slaps me on the arm. “Evan! You didn’t tell him I was coming?!”
“I told you, it’s fine,” I say, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into me. I press my lips to her forehead, planting kisses across her hairline. “Trust me.”
She sighs into my chest. “I do. That’s the problem.”
The grand hall of the theatre is as spectacular as it always is. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Tables are scattered around the room, with golden reservation plates placed on each seat. The orchestra’s instruments are set up on the main stage at the front of the room, and since we’re early there are only a few of the other musicians standing up there. Classical renditions ofpop songs come through the speakers, and it puts me at peace instantly.
As stubborn as Scarlett can be, she’s charming as hell and a skilled conversationalist. We’ve only been here twenty minutes, and it doesn’t matter who she’s talking to, she always knows how to charm and work a room without putting in a ton of effort. It’s admirable and a trait my dad will pick up on immediately. He’s only flying in for the show tonight, so I have to make sure they are properly introduced before I spend most of the night on the stage.
I glance at Scarlett, who has already caught the attention of a small group of guests. I’ve been too busy looking around for my dad, only half-listening to their conversation. She’s smiling, nodding politely as they ask her questions, and I can’t help but watch her.
I catch the tail end of her conversation with the older couple. The woman is clearly impressed with whatever Scarlett has been saying. “So, what brings you to this event? Are you in the fashion world?” she asks, her voice curious but kind.
Scarlett shakes her head with a small laugh. “Oh, not yet. My family are,” she says modestly. She turns to me, giving me a small smile. “I’m here supporting Evan. He’s performing tonight.”
The woman’s eyes light up with recognition. “Evan! You’re performing tonight?”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
The woman gives us both a knowing smile before turning her attention back on Scarlett. She asks her more questions about college and what she’s planning to do with her degree. Scarlett answers honestly, telling her that her plans have changed and she’s still figuring it out. The woman—Rose Whitham, I learn—hands her a business card, winking at her before walking away.
I step up behind Scarlett, placing a hand on the small of her back. “You’re killing it tonight, angel,” I say softly, leaning in close.
She glances up at me, her cheeks tinged with a slight blush. “I’m just trying to keep up with you.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Nah, you’re holding your own. My dad’s going to love you.”
Scarlett raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I say, squeezing her hip reassuringly.
Her face softens, and for a moment, everything else in the background fades. She looks stunning tonight: a long backless black dress, her wavy hair slicked back into a bun, glowing skin and silver earrings. Her eyes twinkle in the light like there’re stars trapped behind her irises. If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my mouth everywhere. Touching her. Thanking her for being here with me tonight. For keeping me calm even when she’s absolutely freaking out.
It probably isn’t helping that my dad is late as usual, and I don’t have much longer before I need to take the stage.
“You’ve got to relax, Scar,” I whisper for the thousandth time.
“I can’t,” she murmurs, squeezing my hand tighter.
“You can,” I say, slipping my hand out of hers and bringing it around her back instead. I press my palm into her lower back, knowing the pressure will calm her down, before I run the heel of my hand up her spine. I rub my thumb against her neck, and she shivers. I lean into her and whisper, “Better?”
She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t completely mean it. She straightens when someone across the room catches her eye. “Holy shit. He’s here.” Her pulse hammers against my thumb, so I drop my hand from her neck and pull her into my side by her waist. I watch my dad across the room, greeting people in a polite yet dismissive way, when he catches my eye. I swearScarlett squeals beside me. “I’m sweating, Branson. Like, I’m genuinely sweating. Why am I sweating?”
I spin her toward me. “It’s going to be fine. He’s going to love you,” I say, trying not to laugh at the panicked look on her face. I’ve never seen her this nervous about anything before. I press a quick kiss to her forehead, and she sighs, shutting her eyes tight before taking in a breath.
She gives me a smile before she spins around, and my dad is right there.
He looks at me. Then at Scarlett. Then at my hand round her waist. And back to me.
I know what he’s thinking without saying it, so I clear my throat, standing taller. “Dad,” I say, nodding, “this is my girlfriend, Scarlett Voss.”
At the same time Scarlett yells, “Girlfriend!” my dad asks, “Voss?!” Right. I should’ve prepared myself for how awkward this would be for many reasons. Scarlett and I haven’t exactly had a conversation about what we’re doing or what this means to either of us, but I think it’s pretty obvious that this isn’t just casual. My dad and I haven’t spoken properly in a couple of weeks, and he would usually know about anyone that I’m dating before we get to this stage.
Scarlett recovers first, side-eyeing me before she extends a hand to my dad. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Branson.”
