“I’m getting lightheaded actually. I’m going to go.” I get up from the table and rush out of there before my friends can protest.
Chapter 21
“I saw the money origami with my own eyes, Asher. He is here,” I say as I dress for dinner in a short black silk dress that ties around the neck.
“So many people can make origami money,” Asher says. He buttons up the white button-down and slips on a black blazer over top. I try not to look at him as we finish getting ready in the room, still mad about our ski lessons earlier.
“Oh really, like who? Who do you know that does that?”
“Okay, no one personally but”—he lets out a defeated breath and turns to me—“Sloane, please, I need this dinner to go well. Everyone in this house is safe tonight, and tomorrow morning we leave here. Just get through this dinner and tomorrow when we get back to Pembroke you can have a full-on panic attack over whether or not Miles was here, okay? I cannot have you going down there acting like I broke you out of a psych ward on our way here.”
“You don’t believe me,” I say.
“Please,” he says again, handing me his glass of scotch. “My dad is coming here tonight, and he’s... very particular so I just needyou to be good. No, I need you to be perfect. Okay? Can you just be that? Please.”
The pleading tone that he’s speaking to me with is unsettling to say the least and does nothing to quell my anxiety. But I take a few sips of his drink to calm myself down. Everyone is safe here, I repeat to myself.
“Fine.”
Annica is at the bottom of the staircase posing for pictures that Dani takes of her. There are a few more people gathered in the living room that I don’t recognize. Asher points to a tall brunette standing with a slim, ginger-haired man.
“That’s Wesley’s sister Marceline and her husband, Adam. And over there”—he motions to a younger-looking girl with a blond balayage, similar to mine—“that’s Charlotte, his other sister.”
“Is your sister here?” I remember him saying he had one on Thanksgiving.
“No, Kara really doesn’t come around much.”
“Asher, my boy!” A stocky and already drunk man with rosy cheeks approaches us as we make our way into the dining room, with his arms out wide. The man puts an arm around Asher and roughs up his hair with the other. Asher smooths it back out, annoyed.
“Sloane, this is my dad. Dad, this is Sloane.”
“Call me Ben.” The man smiles, holding out a hand. I take it.
“Nice to meet you,” I say with a smile.
“How did my son manage to get his hands on a girl like you?” Ben teases, hitting Asher on the arm.
Wes approaches from behind Ben, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “We’re all wondering the same thing, Uncle Ben.” I laugh nervously as Asher grinds his teeth together. I see his jaw working behind his tight-lipped smile.
“Asher, why don’t you go play something on the piano while everyone mingles before dinner. You know your grandpa loves that,” his dad says, and gives him a look, one I can’t decipher. Asher looks between the three of us apprehensively before heading toward the piano in the corner of the dining room.
“So, Sloane.” Ben puts an arm around me, steering me away from Wes. I glance at him from over my shoulder as we walk away, and Wes gives me a reassuring nod. “You’re the first girl Asher has ever brought home. I wonder why that is. I was starting to think he wasn’t even interested in girls.” The thought almost makes me laugh. He is certainly interested in girls, lots of them. He’s so interested in girls that he simply couldn’t pick just one to bring here, is what I want to say. But I just laugh along. “What’s your family like, Sloane?”
“My family? Good, they’re good people.”
“Do they have money?”
The question throws me off guard. “Um, kind of, I mean, my stepdad does. Not like this, though.” I don’t know what kind of answer I’m supposed to give. I just hope that’s the right one.
“So you want my son for his money, then?”
I stop abruptly. “What?! No, I would never—” I shake my head furiously.
“I’m just kidding,” Ben says. “But you can never be too sure. Ah, Charlotte, my favorite niece.” Asher’s dad turns to talk to Wesley’ssister without a formal ending to this conversation, but I take it as my cue to walk away. Asher is at the piano playing a slow melody and I come to sit at the bench with him.
“Your dad just asked me if I’m a gold digger,” I say.
“That’s rich coming from him.” He sighs. “Just try to stay away from him. He’s no doubt here looking for handouts.”
