“We’re always looking for talented photographers like yourself to volunteer,” I said. “We offer classes, one- and two-day workshops, and longer-term mentorship programs, and if you’re interested, I think you’d really be able to make a difference with our mentees.”
I knew I was laying it on a bit thick, but I also knew that people like Jessie reacted well to excessive praise. The growing smile on her face confirmed that I’d utilized the right tactic.
“Omigosh, that sounds wonderful,” she said. “I’d love to teach a workshop!”
“Brilliant. Let me give you my card,” I said, pulling one out of my Chanel bag.
Ford gave me a little nudge as I handed it over.
“And you’re currently looking for additional benefactors, isn’t that right?” he said.
I nodded.
“We are.” I turned my attention to Jonathan. “Your organization is so highly regarded, I think we could join forces and help even more people.”
“Oh Jonathan, you have to!” Jessie cooed.
Minutes later, I had Jessie’s workshop availability in my calendar and the promise of a fat donation check from Jonathan. Walking away, I felt like I was on the top of the world.
“Thank you,” I said to Ford, still hardly believing it. “Thank you so much.”
He shrugged. “I just made the introductions. You did the rest.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said, beaming.
“You’re very welcome, then. Now come on,” he said, looping his arm around my waist. “Let’s see if we can’t get you a few more donors.”
It was different, doing this as a team, being on Ford’s arm.
The crowd parted as we walked through it, people whispering about us, vying for our attention. So many pairs of eyes were on me, but I didn’t mind it as much as I would have thought. Because people actually seemed tosee mewhen they thought I was his. I loved it.
And I hated that I loved it.
All of this was a sweet sort of pain. I knew it was just an act—that, to him, it was just a way to keep his mother from harassing him about Claudia. A way to annoy her and his family.
Even so, I couldn’t help being affected by his touch. The way he would stroke my arm as we chatted with the guests, the way he kept resting his hand on my hip. At one point in the evening, he’d even dropped an affectionate kiss on the top of my head.
It was heaven, yes, but knowing that it was all fun and games for Ford meant that there would be emotional hell for me to pay later.
I tried to convince myself it was worth it.
Emzee
Chapter 3
The thing about cake is, it makes pretty much everything better.
Even shamefully extravagant parties for snobby, aging socialites who hated the idea of me dating their son.
I managed to keep a smile pasted on my face for the rest of the party, including while singing “Happy Birthday” to Mrs. Malone. Her cake—a surprisingly delicious, towering confection comprised of flourless Calamondin orange layers topped with cream cheese glaze and sugared edible flowers—went a long way toward improving my mood, which lasted all the way through the goodbyes at the end of the evening.
Finally, though, Ford escorted me out of the ballroom. Down we went to the car he’d ordered to take us home to our separate apartments, me snuggling my head against his shoulder with his jacket draped over me, trying to squeeze every last drop I could out of the fantasy. But the second the driver shut the car door behind us, I let my smile drop.
I couldn’t pretend anymore.
It was time to have The Discussion. Just because I rolled with the whole faux-dating routine for the duration of the party didn’t mean that I planned to continue letting him walk all over me. I had to stay strong, stick to my earlier vow to change the basic tenets of our friendship.
To be fair, I knew it was as much my fault as his. We had a certain power dynamic between us, had been playing this game since our high school days. Ever since he saved me from the prep school bullies who called me a whore and a slut, who would literally corner me while I was changing for gym so they could talk shit and mock my early-bloomer body.
