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“I just want you to know that I loved your music when I was younger. Five Car Pileup was my favorite band,” the server gushes, coming to my rescue and stalling my eventual humiliation.
Tate nods, ever so humble. “Thank you.”
“And I saw the videos of your performance at that heiress’s party Saturday night. You were wonderful.”
I sit up straight at being referred to asthat heiress. Again, I’m relegated to nothing. She doesn’t even realize I’m literally that heiress.
“I appreciate that. It felt good to perform again,” Tate says.
“I hope you continue to sing. You were fun to watch. Sexy.” She blushes. Smiles. Clutches the tray in front of her like a shield.
I clear my throat, now annoyed at her lingering, and she finally takes the hint, sending a quick look my way.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” the server says.
“What was your name?” Tate asks.
If he asks for her number right in front of me, I’m going to lose it.
The server beams. “Callie.”
“Well, Callie, it was nice meeting you.”
She nods, glances over at me for like half a second, and then runs away, heading to the kitchen.
“Sorry,” Tate says to me once the server is gone. “That usually doesn’t happen anymore.”
“I guess your circumstances have changed.” I take a sip of my latte, relieved to find it’s not too hot.
“She didn’t realize you were the heiress.” Tate smiles, picking up his fork.
“No one knows who I am. Though they know my family. Everyone has heard of the Lancasters.”
“You’re practically American royalty. Like the Vanderbilts or the Rockefellers.”
“It’s a lot,” I say with a sigh.
He smiles. “Right. It’s tough coming from such a prominent, wealthy family.”
“It’s truly not easy.” I take another sip from my latte, hating how I always feel like I must defend myself. “Money doesn’t buy happiness, you know.”
“Oh, trust me. I know. But it definitely makes life easier.” He takes his fork and lodges it right in the middle of the chocolate-frosted éclair, cutting it in half. The cream oozes out of both ends, making an absolute mess, and I’m shocked when he forks up his half and shoves the entire thing in his mouth.
I watch as he chews, wishing I could throw all those years of proper breeding and polite manners out the window and shove my half of the éclair in my mouth like Tate. My mother would have a fit if she ever saw me do something like that.
“How’s the éclair?” I ask after he swallows.
“Delicious.” He points his fork at my half. “You should eat that.”
I stare at the semidestroyed half left behind and reach for my fork, tugging a flaky piece of pastry across the plate. “I can’t remember the last time I had one of these.”
“You only live once,” he suggests, and I glance up at him, realizing that he’s right.
We do only live once. We need to make the most of what we’ve got and enjoy it while it’s all happening. Instead of wasting away and wondering if someone is going to notice. Going to care. Going to make a move.
Why should I give someone else the power when I can take care of myself?
I stab my fork into the pastry and bring it to my lips, the scent of the thick layer of chocolate making me hum with approval just before I place it carefully in my mouth.
