Grabbing my wallet and phone, I do a final check in the mirror. "Ready to face the lion's den?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." He offers his arm in an exaggerated gentlemanly maneuver. "Shall we?"
The simple action, playful as it is, steadies me. This is James, grumpy, sarcastic James, who somehow makes me more at ease than anyone else. If I have to endure this evening, at least I'm doing it with James at my side. I won't be alone this time.
Chapter 12
Champagne, Charity, and Clenched Jaws
CALEB
The car ride to the event is quiet, with each of us stuck in our thoughts. James looks out the window at the city lights going by, his face outlined against the dark. I try not to squirm; years of being taught how to sit straight and stay calm are battling against my rising nerves.
"Your mother," James says suddenly. "What should I expect?"
"Caroline Huntington is..." It takes me a second to come up with words to describe my mother. "Well… she is poised and strategic. Every conversation has an objective. She has been a politician's wife for more than 2 decades and I guess she doesn’t know how to turn that off anymore."
"Wow. That sounds exhausting."
"It is. But she's very good at making it seem effortless. She'll ask about your studies, your future plans, and your family."
His expression darkens slightly at the mention of family. "Not much to tell."
"You don't have to elaborate. Keep it vague if you prefer. She's more interested in assessing your suitability than actually knowing you."
"Suitability," he repeats with a bitter smile. "I'm guessing a foster kid turned computer nerd doesn't rank high on her list."
"What she thinks doesn't matter." The firmness in my voice surprises me. "You're my choice, not hers."
The words hang between us, heavy with meaning that we aren’t ready to deal with.This isn't real. Remember, it’s not real. James isn’t yours.
It's a strategic alliance, nothing more. But it's getting harder to remember that when James looks at me like he is now, thoughtful and strangely gentle.
"Well," he says finally, "at least I tie a mean bow tie now."
The tension breaks, and I laugh despite my nerves. "You still needed help."
"Details, details." He reaches over and briefly squeezes my hand; the move is so casual and comforting that my mind calms. "It's going to be fine, Caleb. We've got this."
The way he says my name makes my breath catch. It's weirdly personal in a way I didn't expect when we began this whole act. I don't rush to move my hand away, letting his warmth sink into my skin for a second more.
"We're here, sir," the driver announces, pulling up to a brightly lit entrance of the Heritage Museum, tonight's venue.
Taking a deep breath, I mentally switch into the version of myself these people expect to see. "Remember," I say, turning to James as the car door opens. "These people have known me my whole life, but don't know me at all. Don't believe anything they say about me."
He looks puzzled but nods. "Noted."
The museum has been transformed for the evening, with elegant floral arrangements, soft lighting, and waitstaff circulating with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. A small orchestra plays classical music in the corner, providing sophisticated background ambiance for the well-heeled crowd.
We've barely made it ten steps into the foyer when I spot my mother heading straight for us, a practiced smile fixed on her face.
"Caleb, darling," she greets, air-kissing near my cheek. "Right on time, as always."
"Mother," keeping to the formal address she expects in public. "May I introduce James Hunter? James, this is my mother, Caroline Huntington."
"Mrs. Huntington," James says smoothly, extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
My mother briefly takes his hand, her eyes cataloging every detail of his appearance. "Mr. Hunter. Caleb mentioned you're in his fraternity? Computer science, was it?"
