Being here helps put things in perspective. How what I’ve been through is small in comparison to what some people face. That while I had every right to have my feelings about Dad’s infidelity, he was right to say it wasn’t my business—especially if Mom is okay with it.
My family aside, this fundraiser is bound to weasel its way into the center of my date’s chest. When that leaves him feeling raw and vulnerable, I’ll be next to him to help him through. Because that’s what I’m here for. Because if roles were reversed, he’d do the same for me.
He already has.
His three-piece accentuates the best of his body—his forearms, the shape of his waist, and his long legs. I’m used to seeing him in jeans and a T-shirt so this? This is a treat that I’ll happily nibble at all night.
“What do you think?” His eyes lift over me for a split second as we wait in line. Our tickets, the two his aunt gave him for us, are in his hands, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice how terribly wrinkled they are.
With my free hand—because the other is curled into his arm at the elbow—I press my palm to his arm. “I think tonight will be amazing,” I tell him, but… “Are you okay?”
He smacks the edge of the tickets against his open palm and blows out a breath. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t look okay.” His face is too distraught. Like in the snap of a finger he might be sick.
“You’re right,” he laughs, though I hear zero humor in it. “That was a lie. I’m not okay. I thought this wouldn’t be so bad, but all I keep thinking about is that she should be here instead of that jail cell.”
I turn toward him, offering a smile to the couple behind us who’s been waiting as long as we have as the line inches forward. “Tell me how I can help.”
“There’s nothing…” He shakes his head, a small crease forming between his brows. I hate seeing him cave to his vulnerability like it’s a bad thing.
I press myself closer, trying to get him to look me in the eye, but he won’t. His gaze focuses on the man’s back in front of us. “We’re all human. There’s nothing to be ashamed of if this is more than you thought you could handle. We can leave.”
His jaw tenses. “I can’t.”
“You can if you need to.”
“No. I can’t let my aunt down. I told her we’d be here, Vi.”
“I’m sure she’d understand.”
He finally looks at me, and all the emotion in his eyes knocks the wind out of me. “She would understand, but it’s me who wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for it.”
“Okay. How can I help make this easier for you, then?”
The smallest of smiles pulls at his dry lips. He licks them and lifts his hand to my face, settling his palm against my cheek. “You being here is enough. It’s more than enough. It’llalwaysbe more than enough.”
“That doesn’t mean this isn’t hard.”
We move forward a step. “I don’t know how it’s going to go down in there,” he says honestly. “But if I need an escape, you’ll be the first person I turn to.”
I nod. “How much does this fundraiser normally raise for Second Chances?”
“I haven’t attended the last couple of years. I came once with Sebastian when we were kids, but we were both too busy trying to get one of the guests to get us a beer to pay attention to the cause and what was happening around us.”
I laugh at that. “You were trying to get a beer? How old were you?”
“I don’t know. Fourteen? Fifteen? We were young and dumb.”
“Why a beer?”
“Sebastian said he didn’t know what it tasted like, so I told him our only goal that night was fixing that.”
The couple in front of us moves for their tickets to be scanned because this isn’t just any fundraiser, it’s one with special invites, which makes me think they raise quite a bit if the doors aren’t open for just anyone.
“Did you succeed?”
“Hell no. Every guest we tried to bribe took one look at us and knew we were far too young to be drinking. Later that night, when we were heading back to Sebastian’s house, his mom turned around in the passenger seat and told us she knew what we were trying to do the entire night.”
