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My house on country club nights was always hectic, an explosion of noise and flurry that could’ve hinted that the Brighton household was self-destructing. It was the only time that my parents lived in their own version of chaos instead of the perfect image they strived to achieve.
“Jamie, where’s your tie?” I heard Dad call through the floorboards.
“Have you seen my pearl earrings, David?” Mom demanded back. “Nellie, did you take them again?”
“Jamie, I saw that—leave the book at home.”
“Nellie! The earrings?”
The gentle hum of noise pumped my nerves up even higher, almost to where it was hard to steady my breathing. Yep, I was going to hurl all over the yellow dress that still hung in my closet. If Mom saw me in it, she’d make me change into something else, so I put it off until the last moment.
Yellow because it looked good with navy, and Harry would be wearing navy…
I was seriously going to pass out.
And that nausea was amplified by the fact that I hadn’t told Mom or Dad about Harry. Not a peep. They had no clue I intended on bringing a date tonight. I’d figured that Mom and Dad finding out about Harry when we walked into the country club was the best idea. That way they couldn’t force me to stay home, forbid me from bringing him.
Instead, they’d be forced to smile, a prim and proper attitude, stuffing all their flustered emotions underneath their masks.
Now, though, as the clock ticked closer and closer to the time Harry was supposed to arrive, I couldn’t help but think that this was a bad, bad idea.
“Destelle!” Mom called up the stairs, voice echoing and breaking me from my thoughts. “We’re leaving in five minutes!”
I swiped a little blush over my cheeks. The color was a bit too light for my skin tone, but it’d have to do.
Getting around as Destelle was vastly different from putting an outfit together as Stella. For one, Destelle accessorized with shinier pieces. I had a few bangles on one wrist and a charm bracelet on the other. The earrings I wore dangled to the middle of my neck, a waterfall of gemstones. They occasionally got tangled in my curls, but they still twinkled in the lights. The diamond choker I wore was a little loose, so it drooped toward my collarbones.
Of course, though, these were all pieces Mom had laid out for me to put on. I didn’t even think to protest.
Mom’s knuckles rapped on my door a second before she pushed it open. She wore suits to work, but for the events, she picked dresses that perfectly flattered her figure. The one for tonight was a little tight in the waist but flowing out by the hips, and always a color that complemented her skin tone. She’d pinned her dark hair up, a few strands loose to frame her face.
“You’re not even dressed,” she gasped, gaze wide. “Destelle, we’re leaving in less than—”
“I was hoping I could drive separately,” I said, cutting her off and immediately regretting it. Before she scolded me for it, I hurried on. “That way I’m not crammed in the back seat with the twins. I—I’ll be right behind you in the SUV.”
Mom examined me from head to toe, taking in the jewelry, my curls, even my house robe. “I suppose that will be all right,” she finally decided. “What dress are you wearing?”
“I still have to pick,” I lied. “Whatever one jumps out at me, I suppose.”
Mom ventured deeper into my bedroom until she stood beside me, picking up the blush brush. “Well, I trust you’ll wear something appropriate,” she murmured, running the brush across my cheekbones. I held perfectly still. “Are you going to Margot’s afterward?”
“Not tonight.” There was no reason to “go to Margot’s.” Untapped Potential canceled their gig for the night. “I’ll be coming straight home.”
Mom set the brush down and tipped her fingers underneath my chin, lifting my face toward the light. “Better. You hadn’t put enough on before.”
Never enough.
“Mom?” I asked her before she stepped out of my room, my call making her pause. “Can I ask you a question?”
“A question?” she echoed, frowning a little. “Of course. Speak fast, we need to get going.”
“If I were to bring a new guy into the picture,” I started slowly, but hurried on, “would you give him a chance?”
Mom took a step back into the room, close enough to flip my hair over my shoulder gently. “Destelle, you are too busy for a relationship. You said yourself that there was so much to keep track of.”
If only she knew I’d had a boyfriend for the past month. “Is there ever a perfect time for a relationship?”
“After college,” she answered easily. “That’s when I met your father.”
