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Again, she looked like she was privy to information I was not. I wanted to quiz her…but I didn’t. What good would it have done to my broken heart?
Dragging a deep breath, ignoring the pain, I turned back and gazed at myself again. I had splurged on this gown a few months back in Dallas. It was very rare that I spent this sort of money, but it was a gift to myself, and I’d known I would be wearing it to this event.
My hands ran down the dress. There were two things you noticed first with this dress. The leg-flaunting slit that ran up the side of my left leg and the plunging neckline that was framed with intricate beadwork. All hand sewn. The silk felt smooth against my hands.
“Touche finale!” my mother said in French as she placed the ombré-looking Jimmy Choo shoes on the floor. They were the most expensive pair of shoes I had ever bought, but when I purchased the clinic, I splurged on them. I loved how the light mocha blended in with the black. The glitter look made them even sexier. At least, I thought it did.
Slipping them on, I took another look at myself. From my pinned-up hair, dangling diamond earrings, and sexy-as-hell dress all the way to my expensive ass heels, I looked like a damn movie star.
Admit to yourself, Harley. You want his eyes all over you tonight.
“Do you think the red lipstick is too much?” I asked, leaning in and licking my lips.
“No! It’s sexy.”
My eyes darted over to my mother. “Are you hoping I hook up tonight, Momma?” I asked with a lifted brow.
“You said it, not me. I don’t know how much you’ll enjoy it with your rib being hurt, though.”
I shot her a frown, but a small grin lifted at the corners of my mouth.
“I better go so I’m not walking in late.” Turning to face my mother, I tilted my head and pouted. “I can’t believe you and Daddy aren’t going. You’ve never missed this dinner.”
With a sad face and a long sigh, she replied, “I know. But your father has the flu. I already called Melanie and told her we couldn’t make it, but we’ll send in a donation.”
Last night my mother had told Tripp she thought they were both coming down with the flu. She wasn’t fooling anyone. She was feeling fine and could have stayed with me last night.
I kissed my mother’s cheek. “Well, wish me luck. I’m going to be the only pathetic person to walk in without a date.”
She laughed. “You’ll be fine. Enjoy your evening.”
The last time I had come to one of Melanie and John’s benefit dinners I walked in on the arm of Tripp Parker. I was young and naïve. Not a care in the world.
Tonight I was walking in alone. No longer the clueless girl, but a grown woman who was both heartbroken and scared to death of what her future held.
My, oh my, how time can change things.
As I pulled up to the front of the house, a teenage boy came up to the car. I smiled when he handed me a ticket.
“Here you go, ma’am. May I get your phone number?”
After giving him my number, I made my way into the Parker house. It was the same set up each year. You were walked through the house by a host or hostess, again, a young teenager who was volunteering their time. After being taken into the den where you could leave your donation and your coat, you were escorted to the backyard. I could see the giant tents set up as we walked into the den. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed three giant tents. I couldn’t help but gasp at the sight on the other side of the windows. It was exactly like I remembered. People had worked non-stop all last night and today to transform the Parker’s backyard from yesterday’s Spring Fling barbeque, to an elegant, breathtaking sea of white twinkle lights. It was a warm evening so the sides of the tents were up, giving you a view of the people inside. It looked like a five-star restaurant and not a tent in the backyard of someone’s home.
I dropped my donation in the box and wrote a small note in the journal that Melanie had set out. Each year she put a new one out and notes were written to someone you had loved and lost to cancer. I wasn’t sure what Melanie did with all the journals, and for years I had wanted to ask. Maybe this year I would get the chance to.
“This way, Ms. Carbajal,” the young girl said with a smile.
I followed her through the French doors in the den. A pathway led from the house to the first tent. It was the mingling area that also contained the bar—which would be my first destination. I was going to need to a stiff drink to get through this evening. Especially after I saw Tripp and Mallory together.
