I decide to order a cab, figuring it’ll make my eventual escape easier if I’m not waiting around for a valet to bring my car to me. There will be plenty of taxis at the hotel I can grab on my way out.
When I’m dropped off, I have a moment of panic, feeling like I forgot something pivotal.
Trevor.
I nearly laugh at the realization.Fuck, I miss him. If he were here, his hands would be on my shoulders, big and broad and warm. He’d tell me there’s nothing I can’t do. That I’m fearless and fierce, and he admires my tenacious nature. The mentalimage is so strong, I can practically see his reflection with me in the windows at the front of the hotel.
It’s enough to bolster me. I stand a little taller, repeating words Trevor gave me long ago. Whitman’s words.
I exist as I am, that is enough.
I find signs in the lobby directing me toward the correct event, other people inside the hotel likely here for the same reason, as fancy as they’re dressed. The room is set up like a banquet hall, round tables and chairs in front of the stage at one end. People are already mingling, some seated and sipping drinks or eating dainty hors d’oeuvres delivered by the staff walking the room with trays.
Everything is impeccable. The chandeliers. The decor. The people.
I hate it. I don’t want to be here.
My dad catches my eye from across the room, inclining his head before saying something to the person he’s talking to. I resign myself to meeting him halfway instead of bolting, tempting as the urge is. I’m coming to a stop in front of him far too soon.
“Isaac,” he says, squeezing my shoulder before giving me one of those manly, back-slapping hugs. “Glad to see you made it this time.”
“Told you I would,” I reply, unable to stop the iciness from seeping into my tone.
He gives me a reproachful look, and I can practically hear his thoughts.Not here. “Let me introduce you to a few people. Come.”
I follow my dad through the crowd, grabbing a glass of what might be champagne from a passing staff member. The bubbles burn my nose as I take a quick sip. I’ve just managedto clear my expression when we come to a standstill in front of a small, impeccably dressed group.
“Isaac,” my dad says, squeezing my shoulder again. “These are the Howards. Reuben and Selena have been partners of ours for many years.” Meaning they throw money at my dad’s company. He turns me subtly toward the third person. “And this is their daughter Angela.”
Oh no.
“My son Isaac,” my dad finishes.
“How nice to meet you,” Selena says, her smile kind. “You must be thrilled to be following in such big shoes.”
My brain blips, but my dad answers smoothly. “Isaac is still at university, determined to get his PhD. But I hope to see him walking our halls in the near future.”
Um…no?Hellno.
My dad’s subtle squeeze on my shoulder tells me I better not contradict him in front of his investors. I give a wan smile.
“A PhD,” Reuben says, intrigued. “In what subject?”
“English,” I answer before my dad can insert another lie.
Reuben blinks, like he’s not quite sure what to do with that information. “Oh.”
“He’s very passionate about the humanities,” my dad says, spinning my degree to best suit him. “Isaac, Angela is a dance teacher at a private school nearby.”
The pause that follows my dad’s words makes it clear I’m supposed to respond to that. “That’s nice,” I manage. “You teach kids?”
“I do,” Angela says, her nose wrinkling in a wry manner. She drops her voice to sound conspiratorial. “It’s challenging, but don’t tell them I said that.”
“Promise I won’t,” I say around a smalllaugh.
My dad beams. “I have a few things to oversee before we begin, but have a seat if you’d like. The smoked salmon canapés are divine.”
With that, my dad leaves me with the Howard family, the lot of them blinking at me pleasantly. Selena waves toward a nearby table. “Shall we sit?”
