I slow my steps, trying to avoid a scene that I know she would hate, watching as her mother leans in and whispers something. Her lips barely moving thanks to the smile fixed on her face for anyone watching.
I’m close enough to overhear what she’s saying. “Please participate, Madeline. He shouldn’t be carrying the conversation alone.”
“I’m listening,” Madeline says, keeping her face composed.
“Listening isn’t enough,” her father says. “You need to look like you want to be here. You need to play the part.”
“That’s difficult,” Madeline says calmly. “When I don’t want to be here.”
Her mother’s smile cracks for just a second. “Madeline, we have an agreement. We expect you to do what you promised you would.”
“Yes, I know,” she replies, her fingers tightening around her champagne glass as someone collides with my shoulder. A woman in a cream-colored dress mumbles an apology as she drifts by me in a poof of blonde curls. When I look back at Madeline, she’s gone. I spot her just in time to see her walking toward the far end of the room, disappearing behind a wall draped in red and gold.
I don’t hesitate, my body moving toward her before my mind has a chance to think twice. Slicing through the crowd, I pass clipped laughter and clinking glasses until I reach thebathroom door she just slipped through. I resist the urge to push through it after it, instead hovering here until she finally comes back out.
Madeline freezes the moment she sees me. Her eyes widen, breath catching like she’s not quite sure I’m real. Before she can say anything, I reach for her wrist and guide her down a hallway and into a quiet recess tucked between towering pillars and velvet-draped walls.
I release her hand when we’re hidden from the crowd, my chest heaving, my gaze locked on her face like I need to make sure she’s still standing in front of me.
“Jesse, what are you doing here?”
“Getting in trouble again,” I say. “I needed to see you.”
Her gaze flicks over me. “How did you even get in?”
“I made a donation.” I raise a brow, adding. “Not to their campaign. I made sure of that. They’re not going to be very happy with me tomorrow when they figure it out.”
Madeline’s shoulders ease a little.
“How are you?” I ask, because I need to know she’s okay before anything else. “Mads, are you okay?”
She hesitates. “I’m okay. How are you? I messaged, but you haven’t talked to me in days.”
The look in her eyes feel worse than anger ever could.
“I’m so sorry, Mads,” I say, my voice laced with regret. “I’m so fucking sorry. I made a mess of this. Of us. My head has been everywhere, but I should have talked to you instead of pulling back. I?—”
“How’s your dad?” she asks, cutting me off, concern in her eyes.
The question steadies me and guts me all at once. “He’s still in the ICU. Not much has changed.” I swallow. “I don’t know which way it’s going to go.”
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. I know she means it.
“I saw you with Elliot in there. Has he said anything to you that you didn’t like? Has he done anything?”
She shakes her head. “No. He’s barely noticed me.”
I smile. “Not possible, Mads. There isn’t a man breathing who wouldn’t notice you.”
“You should go.” She raises her eyes to meet mine, and even in the dim light, the hurt in them is evident. “I only need to be here for a few more hours and then it’ll be over.”
Then she slips past me, moving quickly down the hall, leaving me reeling like she always does.
THIRTY-NINE
Madeline
I’m still not fully back in my body after seeing Jesse in the hallway. My pulse hasn’t settled, my thoughts feel scrambled and fuzzy around the edges, like I left part of myself with him when I walked away. But I smile anyways. I straighten my spine. I sit next to Elliot, just like I’m supposed to. I tell myself I can do this. I am doing this.
