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"What do you think?" I asked Sebastian as I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.
His pewter gray tux fit his muscular frame perfectly. He stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"You look stunning, Rebecca," he insisted, kissing my neck. "Do you think we have time before we need to be downstairs?"
"No," I said, swatting his sculpted chest. "We will have time after the event," I said with a wink.
I had to admit that we looked like the perfect couple. Sebastian's rugged good looks, paired with the simple elegance of his suit, made him look like a movie star. I wore a blush pink floor-length gown. The silky fabric hugged my curves in all the right places, and the pale pink color had a hint of shimmer that added to its refined charm. The bodice had thin spaghetti straps and a low-cut neckline. Delicate lace detailing trailed along the hem.
I smiled at him. "Thank you."
I braided my hair and pinned it to the crown of my head with a handful of bobby pins. I kept my makeup subtle since the dress was a showstopper. I dusted my eyelids with shimmery light eye shadow and dabbed liquid blush onto the apples of my cheeks. For my lipstick, I chose a muted pink shade that matched the dress.
We walked to the elevator hand-in-hand. Last night was nothing like I thought my first time would be. Sebastian was patient and gentle. Now, my body craved him with a deep hunger I didn’t know would exist. Seemingly overnight, I couldn’t get enough of him.
“It’ll be nice to socialize outside of Boston,” Sebastian noted as the elevator doors closed.
I nodded. “Family money has a lot less pull in California. It’s more about who you know, not how long someone’s name has been on a building.”
“Boston society snobbery drives me insane. It’s like if you didn’t come over here on the Mayflower, you’re nothing. Talk about a bunch of classist clowns,” Sebastian grumbled. “No offense,” he added.
I shrugged. “None taken. You know, Boston drives me crazy sometimes, too. I know what you mean, though. I'm not like them, but I grew up around them. I know how shallow and judgmental some are. But there are some good, old-money people in Boston."
Sebastian kissed my knuckles. “People like you,” he whispered against my hand. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. A gaggle of butterflies erupted in my stomach.
“I hope I’m one of the good ones,” I said.
The elevator opened on the fourth floor. The entire east-facing wall was made of glass. The sun was starting to set. Brilliant streaks of violet and indigo with hints of pink and orange painted the skies. In the distance, I could see miles of rolling hills covered in trees. It was a breathtaking view.
“Now, this is why I love Napa,” I declared as we walked into the ballroom.
Sebastian squeezed my hand, only letting go to snag two flutes of champagne from a passing server. He handed one to me, and I took a sip. The bubbles fizzed down my throat. “I think they made this sparkling wine at the vineyard behind the resort,” I noted.
Sebastian nodded. “It tastes fresh.”
“That’s because it is!” a server called as they walked by. I put on my best socialite smile and squared my shoulders back, ensuring my spine was ramrod straight.
“Shall we?” I asked, gulping my champagne. Sebastian grinned and offered me his arm. I looped my arm through his elbow. He took a deep breath, and we walked into the crowd. Within minutes, I was bombarded by hordes of my mother’s friends cooing and clutching my wrists. They prattled excitedly about my upcoming wedding, drinking Sebastian in with hungry eyes.
One of my mother’s friends, Mrs. Zevin, even touched his chest. I felt Sebastian stiffen. I realized that, as a man, he probably wasn’t used to being fawn over. My entire life, I’ve been paraded in front of my parent’s friends, less like a girl and more like a living doll. They pinched my cheeks and fixed the bows my mother crammed onto my head, eyed my waistline and my chest as I approached puberty.
I learned to grin and bear it, tamping down the screams that gurgled in my throat whenever one of my father’s friends stared at my ass for a beat too long. It occurred to me that Sebastian didn’t make me feel like that, even though part of me was expecting him to. He saw me as a real person. He knew I was more than a trophy wife. Because of this, part of me longed to tell him about The Cookie Cove, but I knew that could never happen.
“He’s absolutely stunning, Rebecca,” my mother’s friend Carole cooed, squeezing my shoulder. She smelled like bourbon and powdery perfume, the classic scent of society ladies.
“He’s got the brains, too. Sebastian is one of the premier, up-and-coming real estate developers in Boston,” I explained.
“Is that so? Sebastian, you’ll have to connect with my husband, Byron. He’s belly up to the bar right now, but he works in commercial real estate here in LA if you’re ever looking to expand.”
Sebastian nodded and pulled a business card out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
“That would be great,” he said with a winning smile as he handed the card to Carole.
I shook my empty champagne glass. “Speaking of the bar, what if we grab another?” I asked Sebastian.
“Sure thing,” he said. I yanked him out of Carol’s clutches in one swift move.
“That was a close one,” I hissed once we were out of earshot.
