“Oh, don’t be so formal. Come have a drink with us!”
Turning toward my sister, I force a fake expression of enthusiasm on my face. “See? I’m doing great. Now relax.”
But she doesn’t. If anything, she seems even more tense. Leaving her behind, I close the distance between myself and the party. As I reach the couple, I take a flute of champagne from theserver’s tray.
“Of course, Mr. Hall,” I say politely as I raise my glass. “To the lovely couple.”
I’m an impostor, pretending to be posh and congratulatory, although I’m neither. I’m slobbish, disorderly, obnoxious, and unruly. And I’m not happy for thislovely couple, but I will be happy when this wedding is over and I get what I want. Until then, I can fake it.
Everyone raises their glass before we all take a drink in unison. Colin’s watching me with a guarded expression, and it’s as if he’s the only person here who can see past the facade. He knows I’m faking it.
When Pierce’s glass lowers from his lips, he smiles at me. “My friends here were noting the beautiful art in the main hall of the house. Is it true you painted those?”
“Not all of them,” I reply with a polite nod.
“The portrait of the family, though?” a beautiful woman asks.
I clear my throat as I feel my sister’s presence next to me.
“Yes,” she says sweetly. “That was Declan’s work. He painted that from memory, eight years after our parents had passed. Isn’t that so impressive?”
“Quite,” Pierce says as if he’s sizing me up. I gulp down the rest of my champagne and immediately reach for another.
“He’s so talented,” my sister says, grinning up at me. “He also sculpts and sketches as well, but his portraits really are his masterpieces.”
“Anna,” I mutter before taking another drink. “Please stop.”
“What?” she asks innocently.
“I think it’s awful,” Colin mutters and there’s a collective gasp around the party. The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk as I stare at him with gratitude in my eyes.
“Thank you,” I mumble to him while his fiancé and my sister stare at him in horror.
“What? It was a joke,” he says with an uneasy smile. “Hedoesn’t like compliments.”
Pierce looks away with stone-cold judgment on his face as he picks up his drink.
“Oh, he never did,” my sister says with a giggle. “I’m afraid our brother used to torment him about it.”
“This is an engagement party, and yet we’re talking about me,” I complain.
“How long does it take you to do a portrait?” Pierce asks, obviously ignoring my protest.
“Depends,” I reply with a shake of my head. “A day for a sketch. A couple weeks for the paint if it’s small.”
I don’t think anything of his question or my reply until Pierce looks at Colin adoringly. With his arm still around his shoulder, he squeezes him tighter and leans in to press his lips to Colin’s. I force myself to look away.
“I know you’re so busy with the wedding, but I would love a painting of my soon-to-be husband.”
“Oh, no. Absolutely not,” Colin says, immediately shutting down the idea.
“Why not?” Pierce implores.
“Because he’s busy, and I don’t want to sit for a painting.”
“I’ll pay him, of course. But how special would that be, Colin? The artist who owns the place where we got married could do a portrait of you as a gift for me.” There is something in the way he enunciates each word that spears the haze of my champagne buzz. He’s showing off. Or rather…he’s rubbing it in my face.Hissoon-to-be-husband.Hispainting. This is a show of ownership and intimidation because he thinks I care.
Pierce is enthusiastic and quite compelling, but I’m standing across from them both, frozen in place and oddly hopeful he actually talks Colin into this. Why? I don’t know. I can see this overinflated, chauvinistic pissing contest for what it is, but at the same time, I accept his challenge.
