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Out of my peripheral, I see my mother exit the great room, wine in hand, and I quickly step away from the battle of wills taking place behind the cracked door and turn towards her.
“Well, you look lovely, dear.” She teeters on her black heels a bit, tipsy, like always.
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply, meeting her slightly bloodshot eyes.
Somewhere between my ninth and tenth years, Shannon DeLaurio began having wine for breakfast instead of fruit smoothies. Of course, we don't discuss it, though, because that would mean there’s a problem. Mom doesn't do problems, so, therefore, they don't exist.
Personally, I think she drinks herself into a coma every day, so she doesn’t have to deal with my father. I know I would if I was married to the man.
She threads a strand of my hair through her fingers. “Ian will love the dress.”
Ian, my hand selected date for tonight. Even if Xavier had asked me, my domineering father wouldn't have allowed it.
I grin, keeping up the pretense. “I’m sure he will.”
“Just smile and look pretty. That's all they really care about.”
Thankfully, the doorbell interrupts our awkward moment.
Ian and friends have arrived. We take a few obligatory photos in front of the fountain, and after I hop into the back of the limo, I gaze upstairs and see Xavier staring down on me through the arched window.
I trace the dove connecting us as Ian shuts the door, closing me in.
The next two hours are spent avoiding Ian in the ballroom of the Four Seasons. Lots of time spent in the bathroom. Hannah truly had nothing to worry about in the sex department tonight. The more my father pairs us up, the more I distance myself. He's too into himself to even notice I’m not interested. After he does this weird grinding thing against me on the dance floor, while declaring himself King of The Prom, I decide I want to go home. I've had enough, and my mind hasn’t stopped thinking about Xavier and my father. I need to see him.
I fake a headache, telling a now half-drunk Ian I'm leaving.
“Why, Princess?” he slurs, sliding his hand around my waist.
I hate when he calls me princess. It's an unspoken ‘secret’ amongst everyone of my background. It's one of those things everyone knows but doesn't speak about. Rhiannon, sheltered daughter of the… I can't even think the word, because that makes it true.
“I feel a little dizzy,” I lie.
“You finally get out, and you want to go home?” He shakes his head. “No.”
“Um, yes,” I answer, raising my brows, “and that's what I'm going to do.”
This flask sneaking jerk, who already thinks he rules the world, is not the boss of me. Boss, ugh. In a few more months, I won't have to think about any of this anymore. I'll be a little fish in a big pond of other little fish.
He reaches out to touch the dove. “Shouldn't you be wearing diamonds? You're always wearing this thing.”
I push his hand away. “Thisthingwas a special gift from Xavier.”
“Ah, Xavier. And what makes it so special? It's probably not even real gold.”
“He has the other half,” I inform him. “And not everything has a price. I'm leaving.”
He’s upset, but not too much, because he doesn't even bother walking me out. Good choice, dad. Father fail one million.
Half an hour later, the limo drops me in the circular drive, and when it pulls away, a deep voice startles me.
“How was prom?” Xavier asks, leaning against a tall oak.
“God, you scared me,” I tell him.
“So how was it?” he asks again.
“Everything was fine.” I slip off my heels and walk closer, wanting to talk about more important things. “What happened with my father today?”
