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“Let’s prove them wrong, then.” I smile.
“I knew I chose the best fake girlfriend.” He squeezes my hand and guides me into an expansive living room full of people. They’re all older, which makes sense since they’re his parents’ friends.
“Your brother isn’t coming?” I look over at him.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say either way.” He leans down. “Do you see that woman? In the red dress?” He inconspicuously signals her.
“Yeah,” I nod.
“I can’t stand her. They wanted me to marry her daughter.”
My head snaps toward him with raised eyebrows. We’re inches apart, so I clear my throat and shift back. Tristan straightens as well.
“You didn’t like her?”
“Nope. She wasn’t the type of person I like to surround myself with. She lives in Rhode Island now. Ended up marrying a doctor. And the woman talking to her?” He lifts his chin.
“Do you hate her, too?” I ask with a hint of sarcasm.
“That’s my mother.”
“Oh.” I bite the inside of my lips as heat fills me.
I look away, staring at my shoes. Foot, meet mouth. If I were flexible enough, I’d literally shut myself up with my foot.
Tristan chuckles and shakes my arm.
“Let’s go say hello to her and my wannabe-mother-in-law.” His voice is laced with humor.
“Wonderful,” I mumble.
I’m not sure this is the best idea. The room smells of money and power. Just seeing the people here speaks volumes about the circles Tristan’s family moves in. Wealth I cannot fathom.
“Do you know everyone here?” I whisper as we walk toward his mother. She looks elegant in a plum sheath dress with cap sleeves, a diamond necklace around her neck, and an updo.
“Yeah, for the most part.” He looks around at the thirty or so people milling about the room.
We stand beside his mom, and Tristan clears his throat. I’m not sure if she was actually unaware of us approaching or just pretending not to have noticed.
“Oh, Tristan, hello.” She smiles and turns her cheek, leaning toward him a bit so he can kiss it.
Tristan barely brushes it.
“Happy birthday.” He nods, proper and polite.
I see no sign of affection, something that’s difficult for me to wrap my head around. Maybe they’re not an affectionate family in public.
“Thank you.” She looks at me. “Who’s your friend?” Her eyes cut to Tristan before turning back to me.
“This is Sage, my girlfriend.” His voice doesn’t even waver.
“Girlfriend?” His mom tilts her head down, looking at me as if carefully analyzing strange bacteria under a microscope.
“Where are you from?”
“Hartville.” My heart drums chaotically. The beating echoes in my ears.
His dad didn’t pay me half the attention she is. Maybe he knew his wife would question me enough.
