I snort at my thoughts but quickly get myself under control.
Taking my hand in his, he raises the hand I’ve got through his arm. He kisses it gently, and I nearly faint at the gesture. It’s one of sweetness and kindness. He leads me through the throng of people, saying hello to a lot of them. Sipping from my glass again, I see I’ve almost emptied it. I wonder if we could head back and––”
“Mother.” Hudson suddenly stops walking and says, “I’d like to introduce you to my date, Willa Clariday.” He says this to a woman who is so gorgeous, I don’t even think I can speak to her. I mean it. She’s got deep red hair that looks amazing on her pale skin. She looks to be Bonnie’s age or younger. There’s not a wrinkle in sight. She reminds me of one of those old Hollywood actresses where their beauty sort of transcends time.
“Thank you, my dear.”
Oh, crud. Did I say that out loud?
“My wife is quite lovely indeed.” A handsome man, an older version of Hudson, steps up and places a hand on Mrs. Adler’s back. Holding his other hand out to me, I switch my champagne glass and shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Adler.”
“Call me Max.” He winks. “And aren’t you a beautiful little thing.”
“Little?” That one hurtful word comes courtesy of yet another stunning woman who has stepped up alongside Mrs. Adler. This one is closer to my age. She’s tall, almost as tall as Hudson, with stupidly long legs and dark hair, almost black, running down her back in pretty waves. Ugh. She’s so beautiful that she’s probably a supermodel.
“Monica,” Hudson growls. “Knock it off.”
“What?” She feigns ignorance. I can tell she’s faking it, and I just met the woman. She extends her elegantly long arm. She’s wearing an expensive-looking sparkling bracelet. “I’m Monica Fitzgerald. Hudson’s my…” she clears her throat daintily. “Future.”
Future?What does that mean? Is he seeing this bitchy supermodel person? I mean, they would look amazing together, and think of how gorgeous their kids would be, but honestly, I can’t see him with a mean girl. Not now that I’ve gotten to know him a little.
“There you are, Hudson.” Barbara McAllister sidles up close to my date, a man who’s in so much trouble... “I’m so glad you could make it.” She glances at me. “Willamina.”
Wow. This is just terrific.
Mr. McAllister moves in next to his wife and says pretty much the same thing but adds, “I’m so glad the Adlers could make our humble little barbecue.”
He says it just as I take my last sip of champagne from my glass, causing me to I choke just a little.
Humble barbecue my ass.
ChapterTen
HUDSON
This is a shit-show.
In my heart, I’d hoped everyone would be on their best behavior, but that’s not how these people operate. This mercenary group of individuals sensed blood in the water and decided to circle their prey. Their prey, in this unfortunate scenario, is Willa.
We haven’t moved from our spot in over thirty minutes because the guests have all approached one-by-one. Most to say hello to my parents as they hold court but also to get a closer look at the poor girl I’ve subjected to this. I’ve watched as she’s endured countless little jabs. About her dress, her hair, and her, well, her body. The women, Monica, and my mother in particular, seem to be the worst, saying things like “Oh, that dress is so… interesting” and “Who does your hair? It’s very simple.” She has it in a pretty ponytail. I like it. It’s pulled away from her lovely face, and I can imagine holding onto it and––
Fuck. I can’t go there.
Damn. I need a drink. Looking down at Willa’s empty glass, I lean down and ask. “Would you like another?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Turning, she squeaks. “No, Hud––“
Except someone stops her by asking her about her last name. If I hurry, she won’t even know I’m gone.
With two glasses of champagne in hand, I weave through the guests until I’m back. Except when I scan my huddle for Willa, she’s not there. “Where’s Willa?”
My mother is the one to respond, “She stepped into the house.”
“Into the house?” Without me? Shit. I promised not to leave her side. I should have kept my damn promise.
