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Eventually, I change back into my clothes and give him a kiss goodnight at the side door, then stumble home on legs that feel like jelly. I’m so distracted by thoughts of him and the way he cared for me that I don’t even realize I’ve made it home until I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom. The moment my head hits the pillow, I pass out, more satisfied than I thought possible, considering we didn’t have sex.
I wake the next day with a smile that won’t fade, and my excellent mood holds steady throughout the errands I run around town. When I go to the grocery store to pick up some slightly unhealthy staples I plan on hiding from Mom and keeping all to myself, I don’t even notice Nate’s mother, Tabitha, until she’s standing right behind me.
“Long time no see, Sam,” she says in that sharp, tinny voice of hers. “I heard you’re coming to Nate’s wedding.”
“Well, it’s actually a funny story,” I begin, but Tabitha cuts me off.
“It’ll be good for you to be there and meet Fiona. She’s such a sweetheart,” she gushes, putting a hand over her heart. “She’s going to make a wonderful wife.”
“That’s lovely,” I tell her, trying to get a word in. “But I’m–”
“It’s because she has her priorities straight, you know?” she adds pointedly. “She knows that work is just work, and at the end of the day, her family must come first. Your husband must come first, otherwise, you have no business getting married.”
I blink at her, trying to figure out how to respond. I don’t want her to lure me into a fight because she doesn’t deserve my attention at all, frankly. Also, what’s she getting out of bringing this up now? Our marriage ended. I’m out of the picture. You’d think she’d count that as a personal victory. “I thought the point of marriage was to grow old with the person you love,” I eventually say. I might not believe in fairy tales, but I know what marriage is supposed to be, and it’s not what Nate and I had.
“Hmm, spoken like an expert in marriage,” she says with a loud, halting laugh that sounds like an old vacuum cleaner. “How funny.”
I glance at the floral department where our chatty neighbor, Mrs. Davis, is picking out a bouquet. Normally, I’d try to avoid her, but right now I’d endure an hour-long conversation about the resale value of her daughter’s old Beanie Babies if it would get me out of this awful situation. I try to catch her eye, give her a signal of some kind to come over and save me, but she’s still comparing bouquets of lilies and doesn’t notice my presence.
“You’re not thinking of walking down the aisle again, I hope?” Tabitha asks. “I heard you weren’t bringing a date to Nate’s wedding, so I just assumed you were single. Still.”
As if being single somehow makes me less of a person. What a sour-faced shrew she is. I’m so annoyed by the shade she’s hurling at me that I don’t even realize what I’ve said until the words are out. “Actually, I’m bringing my boyfriend, Mylo, to the wedding. I keep forgetting to tell Nate that I’ll be using Marty’s plus one since Holly can’t come.” I reach out and squeeze her shoulder in the most patronizing way possible. “Thank you so much for the reminder.”
Her dry, mauve-colored lips are still parted wide as I turn away.
“Have a great day, Tabitha,” I say with a bright smile, and because I’m on a roll now, “and cute maxi skirt, by the way. You can barely tell how cheap the fabric is.” Bitch should’ve thought twice before coming for me.
Then I head straight for the checkout line as the scene plays over in my mind. Did I really promise to bring Mylo, akamy boyfriend, as my date to Nate’s wedding? What the fuck have I just done?
CHAPTER 7
MYLO
“Ifeel foolish,” I say to Charlie, adjusting the vest that is far too tight around my rib cage. “Do I look foolish?”
“No, my lord,” Charlie says in a fake British accent while offering me her best curtsy. “You look exquisite.”
We both dressed for theBridgertontheme of our inaugural trivia night. Charlie said others might, and they’ll feel better if they see that we are too. Other than the costume being a size too small, I find that I enjoy the fashions of centuries ago. There are far too many layers, but other than that, every piece has impressive detail and accents.
The tailcoat and knee-length trousers are a matching black shade, paired with a black and gold baroque vest, and a loose white shirt has ruffles at the neck that I seem to keep fiddling with. Charlie let me borrow her late grandfather’s gold pocket watch as an added accessory.
The event’s start time was seven, and by ten after, the lobby is filled with people chatting excitedly about the show, the books, and the differences between the two. A third of the guests are dressed up in Regency attire, which is a pleasant surprise considering how worried I was that Charlie and I would be the only ones sweating. Even Vanessa is wearing a pale yellow, floor-length dress that swishes when she walks.
“Mylo, congrats,” she cheers upon arrival. “Look at this turnout. Trivia night is such a good idea.”
Axil, trailing behind her, wears a green T-shirt, jeans, and brown work boots.
“You did not dress up,” I note with a hint of disappointment.
His tone and expression match mine as he replies, “And you did. I hope you are able to live with that choice.”
“It’s one night. I think I look dapper,” I tell him, confidently tugging on the lapels of my jacket.
“It may be one night,” he says, leaning in to whisper, “but the pictures shall last forever.”
When he steps away, I see a group of costumed women to my right taking a group photo with the camera aimed in my direction. I am clearly in their shot, but I don’t care. This is the theme of the evening, and I want this event to lead to many more, so I shall don this costume proudly.
Zev and Kyan said they would not be able to come, so their absence is expected.
