Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
I take another sip, then touch Mom’s arm. “Tate’s here. Let’s say hi.”
“Of course.” She sips her own champagne as she follows me toward the tuxedo-clad golden god who stole my virginity and my heart.
“Who invited you?” I mock glare when we reach him.
“I know, right?” Tate’s appreciative gaze eats me up. “You look incredible.”
“You clean up nice too.” I smile and rise on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
His parents are standing nearby, talking to Cooper’s uncle Levi, but Gemma breaks away when she notices me.
“Cassie. You look beautiful.” Gemma gives me a warm hug.
“Thank you. So do you.” She’s wearing a yellow dress, her fair hair arranged in an updo with wavy strands framing her face. A small diamond pendant is nestled in her cleavage.
I greet Tate’s dad, who’s less boisterous than usual as he leans in to kiss my cheek. Maybe he’s toning himself down because this is such a classy event, but when he speaks, his demeanor feels more polite than lively. “Cassie. Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too. This is my mom, Victoria. Mom, this is Gemma, and this is—”
“Gavin,” Mom finishes, greeting him with a tight smile. She barely acknowledges Tate’s mother, offering a brisk nod in lieu of hello. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has.” Gavin looks ill at ease, fidgeting with his bowtie. “Nice to see you again, Tori.”
I blink in surprise. “Oh, you two know each other?”
“Oh yes, we’re well acquainted.” Mom takes another sip of champagne.
I wait for her to continue, perhaps even, you know, explain.
But she doesn’t, and neither does Gavin.
Tate appears as befuddled as I am. We exchange a mystified look, as if to say, what are we missing?
Grandma chooses that moment to approach, and I try to transmit to her with my eyes that maybe now is not the time. Something’s brewing here. Like the way I know whenever a storm is coming. I can smell it, feel it in the air.
“How long has it been, Gavin?” Mom asks, studying him over the top of her glass. She sips again. “Eleven years?”
“About that,” he says, not quite meeting her eyes.
I notice Tate’s mom shooting him a questioning look. Okay. At least Tate and I aren’t the only ones who are out of the loop. And whatever this loop is, it’s beginning to trigger all my internal alarms.
Grandma reaches us, her expression one of concern. “Is everything all right?” she murmurs to me.
“I have no idea,” I murmur back. Then I slather on a bright smile and make a last-ditch attempt to ward off the impending storm. “Hey, Mom, I think Aunt Jacqueline is waving us over—”
“The last time I saw you …” she muses to Gavin, effectively ignoring me. “It was the month of August, I remember that much. And I believe we met … here, actually. At this bar.” She absently waves her arm toward the ballroom doors. “Before it was that café out there. It was the lobby bar, remember?”
Tate’s dad doesn’t answer. Either I’m imagining it, or his forehead has taken on a sheen of sweat.
“Refresh my memory? I can’t recall exactly when we last saw each other …” With a smile that’s more a baring of teeth than anything resembling amity, Mom locks eyes with Gavin Bartlett. “Oh, silly me! I remember now. It was the night you ordered me to abort our baby.”
CHAPTER 31
CASSIE
What in actual tarnation …
I stare at my mother. I’m not the only one.
Everyone has been stunned to silence.
Well, not everyone. All around us, other people are still enjoying themselves. They’re laughing and chatting. They’re nibbling on hors d’œuvres and drinking their champagne. Even the band is still playing. I long to be one of those blissfully oblivious people. I miss my old life, the one from five seconds ago before I heard my mother utter those inexplicable words in that ice-cold yet oddly smug tone.
Her shocking admission hangs like a cloud in the air, lingering, refusing to dissipate.
I’m the first one to find my voice, though it comes out hoarse and unstable.
“Mom.” I shake my head a few times, unable to formulate any more words.
“What?” She is completely unbothered, cheerful even, as she drains the rest of her glass before signaling a passing server for another.
Is she fucking drunk?
I look at Gavin and Gemma. Tate’s dad is paler than the crisp linen napkins being handed out with the hors d’œuvres. Gemma, on the other hand, is flushed, her cheeks stained a deep, dark red. Whether from anger or humiliation, I don’t know.
Mom’s amused gaze flicks my way. “Weren’t you the one who was so curious about my past the other day?” she reminds me. A mocking note colors her tone. “And now, not a single question?” She tsks. “Really, Cass?”
“Victoria.” Grandma’s sharp voice slices the air.
“Oh, Mother, don’t look at me like that. You knew about it.”