I’ll ask her about it later, willing to let her brush it away for now. This is neither the time nor the place to dig into whatever that was. Together, we walk to the table my parents have assigned us. It’s the same number every year—number six. My mother does this intentionally, so some more prominent patrons can sit at the higher-numbered tables and feel infinitely more important.
After pulling out Whitney’s chair for her to sit, I sit right next to her, scooting my chair a little closer so her arm brushes against mine. Over the next few minutes, I point out some familiar faces I know from past years. Most people in attendance tonight are intimately involved in my mother’sorganization, focusing on creating affordable housing for everyone.
My parents return to our table a little while later and take their seats. A few of my parents' friends join them, and soon, our table of eight is full. We all make small talk as the waitstaff arrives and delivers house salads to each of us.
We make it through all of the dinner courses before the MC for the night is summoning me up to the stage to give my speech. After dabbing at my mouth with my napkin, I excuse myself from the table and walk up, smiling and nodding politely as the attendees clap for me.
Once up at the podium, I focus on the words I’ve practiced all night. The spotlight on me is blinding, and I squint through, searching for one familiar face. Finally, I find her back at the table, beaming up at me with pride shining through her expression. My eyes lock on Whitney, and though everyone in the room watches me with rapt attention, I only look at her.
As I finish my speech, the room erupts in applause. I bow my head slightly before stepping off the podium. My mother and father are both waiting for me at the end of the stage. My dad pats me on the shoulder, and my mother hugs me. “That was excellent, honey.”
“Thanks,” I tell them both with a smile. They each give me one more fond smile before they take the stage.
Walking back to our table, I get stopped a few times to receive congratulations on my talk. I thank them quickly each time, itching to get back to Whitney and out of the spotlight.
She’s watching for me, and her full lips turn up at the corners when she sees me. My heart seems to skip a beat, and I find myself walking faster, increasing my pace to get to her as soon as possible.
“You did great,” Whitney says, leaning toward me. “I think you had this whole room hanging off your everyword.”
I settle in my seat again. “That was the goal. I didn’t come across too pompous, did I?”
“Of course not. I thought it was very tasteful. Your mother’s foundation will see an uptick in donations after that. It was very convincing.”
“Theo!” a twinkling voice calls my name and the high I was riding from the applause quickly disappears.
I turn my head to glower at the blonde I know is standing right behind me. Having no sense of boundaries, or consideration for the woman sitting next to me, Lauren Farthington bends down right next to me, making sure to show off her cleavage in her low cut dress to anyone willing to see. She wraps her arms around my neck and then presses a kiss to each of my cheeks.
“Oh, I’ve missed you so much? How long has it been?”
“Not long enough,” I mutter low enough that only she can hear it.
I have no desire to play into her trap tonight. Lauren can be manipulative, but I’m not falling for it anymore. After undergoing years of verbal abuse by her, repetitively telling me that I was cheap and worthless, it finally took me walking into our home to find her sprawled out on the couch with another man to see the truth of her ways. I won’t let her make a fool of me again.
Now that I’m away from her, I’ve gone to great lengths to keep those reminders at bay. Hours of therapy have been spent convincing myself that I am more than what she tried to convince me of. Though she still acts as a reminder; a beacon for those darker thoughts.
When she pulls away from her one-sided embrace, her cosmetically enhanced lips are puckered into a pout and she crosses her arms over her chest—again, showing off her low-cutdress line.
“Theo, I’ve missed you. Can’t you at least be a little happy to see me?”
I stare at her blankly for a moment before turning to Whitney, who is watching the entire exchange with wide eyes. “Do you need some fresh air? It’s feeling awfully stuffy in here all of a sudden.”
Lauren scoffs behind me. Whitney doesn’t get the chance to respond before more chaos is added to this show.
“Oh, Lauren!” my mother exclaims once she makes it back to the table, my father in tow. “I’m so glad you were able to stop by this evening.”
My mother wraps her arms around Lauren’s thin body, pulling her into a hug. Lauren returns the gesture, closing her eyes and rubbing my mother’s back fondly, playing into the part exceedingly well. Just as she’s always done. She always put on a good show for our parents, saving her vindictive insults for when we were alone. “I wouldn’t have missed it. You know I look forward to this event every year! It’s always so good to see you both, and to catch up with you, Theo. You really shouldn’t be such a stranger.”
I give her a tight smile and reach for my wine glass. Rather than gauge Lauren’s reaction to my less-than warm response, I turn to Whitney. She’s still watching the whole interaction with wary eyes, but doesn’t intervene, letting it play out.
My mother and Lauren talk for a little while longer, like they are old friends. Which I guess they are, given that my mother routinely will meet up with Lauren and her mother for lunch. My mother is not fully aware of the terms of our breakup. I can’t imagine that if she were she’d be putting on a show like this. But I don’t have it in me to drag Lauren through the mud anymore. Losing control of me and my family’s inheritance was enough of a punishment for her.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Lauren excusesherself back to her table. My mother looks after her fondly, but then turns back to the table once she’s out of eyeline.
I place my hand on Whitney’s leg in an attempt to soothe any type of turmoil she might be feeling. She turns to me and gives me an affectionate look. I can’t help but smile at her softly. She’s so lovely tonight, and for the first time, I don’t feel the pressure of anyone looking over my shoulder. I can’t seem to keep my hands off of her.
“So, Whitney,” my mother begins as she picks up her wine glass and swirls it a bit. “Tell us a little about yourself.”
Whitney nods her head, turning her attention to my mother. She rattles off a few things about her, how she worked under Vance Peterson and helped him lead the company to where it is now. I know she’s trying to make an impression after having been unwittingly compared to Lauren. It’s shameful to say, but I tune her out a bit, choosing to focus on how her toned thigh feels beneath my hand.
