“Well, see you there, Nellie Andersen.” That same grin curls across his face, lighting me on fire.
“Deal.” I turn and head out the French doors before I fuck this up.
48
Charleigh
The air outside is sticky, sultry. As Charleigh wades through it, down the brick steps leading from the back of the house, veering around the brass band, she’s already unsteady on her legs.
Why is she wearing six-inch sandals? A mistake.
And also, the three glasses of bubbly and the beer she’s now nursing may prove to be a mistake. She needs food.
Charleigh weaves her way over to the picnic tables boasting sumptuous platters piled high with mouthwatering offerings. She’s overcome with pride by the splendor of it all: her giant rolling backyard, now churning with tuxedoed waitstaff, the brass band perched on her brick patio, the champagne fountain sparkling with a teetering tower of crystal flutes. Who could ever have imagined this would be her life? That this would all be hers? There are at least seventy-five people here already, not too shabby for last-minute invites. No one in their right mind turnsdown a party at the Andersens’, last second or not.
Spying Jackson across the lawn, she lifts her beer in a toast. He raises his glass of champagne, winks at her. What a darling he is.
And Luke. Luke showed no sign of being bothered by their awkward conversation the other day, thankGod.
Charleigh made sure to stand out front with the valets until the Swifts arrived so she could intercept him. That woman, Abigail, still gives her the creeps, and as Charleigh and Alexander walked along the path leading from the front drive to the backyard with them, she taunted Charleigh with her greeting. “Soniceof you, generous, even, to have us over. What made you change your mind about my hubby’s customs?”
Bite your tongue, Charleigh thought, forcing herself to keep her eye on the hot young prize: Luke.
“Well, people can change their minds, right?” she said airily. It was the best she could do.
“They sure can, Charleigh,” Ethan piped up, his eyes swimming over her body.
He’s damn sexy, but while Charleigh might entertain thoughts of him in the buff, polishing some masterpiece of his in her living room, Alexander is the only one for her.
“We’rereallydelighted y’all could make it,” Alexander offered, looking like the lord of the house in his starched white button-down, tanned forearms jutting from his cuffed sleeves.
A girlish laugh bubbled out of Abigail. She actually looked decent, for the first time ever, Charleigh thought, in a long whitedress that actually looked store-bought. Her face was still devoid of makeup, but somehow, she was glowing, and she had a swipe of cherry-colored lipstick on her mouth. The dress hugged her in all the right places, especially around her ripe breasts.
Wench.
When they got around the house, Charleigh looped her elbow through Luke’s, motioned for Alexander to join them. “Would you like a tour?”
“Umm…sure?” He phrased it as if it were a question.
Ethan shot a glance at him. Luke flipped his bangs out of his eyes, smiled. “I mean, yeah, I’d love it!”
Charleigh and Alexander took him on thefuntour. Just the downstairs. The posh living room, the giant kitchen, the butler’s pantry. Then Alexander took him into the garage while Charleigh hung back. She didn’t want to seem liketoomuch of a show-off.
She nestled herself against the laundry room wall that leads to the garage, eavesdropped. Alexander seemed to really woo him, showing off all his fun shit, like the four-wheeler, his rifle cabinet, his camping paraphernalia.
Charleigh grinned to herself, gripped her champagne flute.
Exhaled.
Now she grazes on a rib, careful not to stain her top, then spoons a clump of potato salad on her plastic plate.
She’d pounce on Luke at some point tonight, later, after the boy was good and liquored up.
49
Jackson
The night air hangs on Jackson like a wet cloak. It’s breezeless out. Good for fireworks, but bad for vanity and comfort.
