“I missed you so much, Lil.” I almost cry at the sight of her. The last time I saw her was before the funeral, when my godparents, the lovely people they are, offered to keep her because Dan is hardly home and Grandpa isdeathly allergic to dogs. Or so he claims. Still, she’s just one more thing I wish I’d fought harder to keep.
Valerie swoops in the second I stand, her Chanel thick enough to steal the air from my lungs. She kisses both cheeks, then locks me in a hug that could crack ribs. I manage a half-wave toward Jonathan at the door, with what little movement her tight grip allows.
“Mum, let her go. I need Eva for a moment.” Grace hurries down the steps, urgency clear on her face.
“Don’t be too long, girls.” Jonathan sips his wine. “Or we’re starting without you.”
“Go ahead, Dad,” Grace replies and hooks her arm through mine, pulling me into the suite cabin.
“If this is about…” I start.
“It’s not.” She points at the mirror.
I catch my reflection. My hand flies to my mouth as I see thethree huge, red blotches on my neck. My cheeks burn to match the shade. All that carefully applied foundation I’d slapped on this morning? Gone. Completely obliterated by Lily’s enthusiastic licks.
“Damn it,” I shriek, shooting a helpless glance at Grace, my eyes flicking toward the purse in her hands.
“Yeah, of course I have it.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s why you are supposedto useconcealer.”
“Noted,” I murmur, though I’m not sure that would have helped either.
Grace pulls out miniature bottles and starts working her magic with a brush.
“I heard Mason Grant was at the ball last night,” Grace murmurs.
I bite my lip.How does she know?
“Of course, he is stupid hot,” she adds. “I’m guessing Dan doesn’t approve.”
“Dan punched him,” I reply, just to see her reaction. Her hand freezes with a slow jaw drop. Okay, so I’m not crazy. She agrees that’s out of sorts.
Dan has always been the golden boy. Since we were teenagers, I was used to girls being nice to me just to get close to him. Or boys afraid to come near me, scared they won’t get picked for the team or invited to the next popular gig. Dan is four years older than me, so he’s always been protective. But punching? That’s just not his style.
“Well, Nick will be happy to hear that,” Grace scoffs.
“Why would Nick care?”
“Apparently, they got drunk and Hugo challenged Nick to an arm wrestle, then….”
Grace draws her phone and brings up an Instagram post photo of Nick with his hand in a cast. The caption reads:‘Fuck you, Mason Grant.’
“He broke his arm?” I squeal, trying to zoom in to see if this is a joke.
“Just his wrist.” Grace shrugs. “He’ll be fine.”
But I’m still staring at the photo, frozen. “I can’t believe he did that,” I mumble.
“One, who cares? Nick is a dick.” Grace chuckles. “Two, you do know Mason is known for more than just broken wrists, right?”
I exhale and hand her phone back to her. “Yep. Dan gave me the lecture. Don’t need to hear it again.”
“Dan can hardly claim the moral high ground anymore.”
“Good point,” I murmur as she pats my skin and meets my gaze in the mirror. The marks on my neck blended into a second skin.
By the time we finally made it to lunch, Grandpa had joined us, too. A long table with pretentious cuisine already laid out. Silver trays, tiny garnishes, and my favorite Thai dishes bang in the middle with a tall pile of pastries. Carefully placed by my godmother, of course.She positioned them within arm’s reach, just so she can grill me the entire meal. I brace myself for the interrogation and stick to non-alcoholic beverages. Valerie is going to fish for every micro-detail. I knew this was coming the minute I saw Jonathan in the helicopter. Oh well, this little family reunion seemed too good to be true anyway.
Oblivious to the third degree on this end of the table, Dan, Grandpa, and Jonathan start discussing Dan’s upcoming business trip to the States and recent private jet upgrades.
