The pointed questions and comments designed to make me feel like an outlined version of myself, one that is missing my colour.
I love my mother, and as the mayor’s wife, she does a great job of organizing events like this, but like I said, she can be a bit much.
Before Queen Selena died, the party used to be at the castle. There was also a Christmas party as well, but I wasn’t allowed to go.
I’ve heard rumbling that it might happen again next year.
Kate arrives at the dance with me, for moral support more than anything.
When I step in the door, and shrug off my warm winter coat, I feel like all eyes are on me.
“Everyone is looking at you,” Kate confirms with an excited squeeze of my arm.
“It’s the dress,” I tell.
“It’s some dress.”
I am glad Ashton bought it, because I would hate to have lost it to someone else. Seeing another woman wearing it here tonight, would have been like seeing a still-loved ex dancing with a new love.
I love my dress, and I still feel beautiful wearing it, despite everything.
Kate did my hair, whipping my waves into a cascade of curls that tumble over my shoulders. Fern did my makeup—yes, I got ready with Fern and Kate, with Lyra showing up at the last minute because her plane was delayed.
Lyra is here with my brother Spencer, and my eyes have never looked better. I can say a lot about Fern, but she does have talent with a makeup brush.
When I step out onto the dance floor, I’m surrounded, hit with questions and well wishes, and my cousin had a broken leg and never recovered and now she’s walking with a limp, stories.
It’s a lot to take in right away, and Kate, bless her heart, slowly manoeuvres me over to the bar.
“You don’t have to be my babysitter tonight,” I remind her as we order glasses of white wine.
“Maybe I like being your babysitter,” she says with a grin.
Kate is stunning in basic black, but there is nothing simple about her strapless dress that puddles on the floor behind her. She’s working tonight, like always, keeping an eye on all of the royal family just in case of any faux pas, or drama to settle.
I don’t think she is paid enough.
“I’m okay being by myself,” I tell her. “You should find someone to dance with. Maybe Patrick showed up after all.”
“I don’t think he made it, but that’s okay, because I didn’t invite him.”
I invited Ashton, and I don’t see him anywhere.
I can’t even stop telling myself to stop thinking about him, because I need to think about him, because I’ll be seeing him any minute.
And I don’t know what to say to him. Or what to think about seeing him. Or anything right now.
“You don’t need to be by yourself,” Kate reminds me. She waves to someone behind me. “I don’t know why youdidn’t let Ashton take you to the dance. He would’ve been a great partner and you look good together.”
I didn’t tell Kate why I’m not with him tonight.
I didn’t tell anyone, part of an ingrained personality trait that refuses to say anything that might make anyone look bad.
I need to get over that. I don’t have to be niceall the time.
But still, I don’t intend to say anything.
Good intentions don’t always make sense, though. “Apparently, he only started hanging out with me so I wouldn’t charge him with vehicular accidentally hitting a person, or something like that.”
