Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“What if I got a lower eyelid lift?” I mused as I tied my tie.
“What if you stopped being vain?” she shot back.
“Okay, I deserved that.”
The hinges on the bathroom door creaked, and I glanced over my shoulder in the mirror to watch Charlotte emerge.
Then, I had to turn around and see her in the flesh, because I was too stunned to rely on a reflection.
Her big, gorgeously made-up eyes fell. “It’s too much. I knew it was too much. Sophie picked it out for me and—”
It took me too long to find my voice. “It’s not too much. Not at all. I was…speechless.”
She swished the hem of the pale purple gown shyly, a smile slowly crossing her face. “I thought I might look too much like I’m going to the prom or something.”
“It’s kind of like the prom. With worse music and like 40 percent less dry humping on the dance floor.” I picked up my jacket from the back of the chair I’d tossed it over.
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, if my Uncle Charles asks you to dance, turn him down,” I warned her grimly.
“Noted.” She slipped on some shoes that did not look comfortable in the slightest, carefully patted the perfect bun atop her head, and let out a deep breath. “Okay. I guess I’m ready for this.”
I was suddenly transported back to all the fear of my first day at college. The first time I’d been among “normal” people. Privileged, Ivy League normal people, yes, but still, people who knew what APR was because it mattered in their lives and bank accounts. I remembered being so terrified that I would do or say something that would make it impossible to fit in, not with the legacy admissions, but with the crowd I’d wanted to impress. People who didn’t find games less interesting than golf, or whose knowledge of mythical animals extended beyond their family crests.
I saw that same fear of not fitting in on Charlotte’s face.
“Hey, come here.” I gestured her over. When she was close enough to take into my arms, I did, mindful of wrinkling, crumpling, smearing, or snagging her in any way. “If anyone gives you even so much as a raised eyebrow in hostility tonight, you let me know. I’ll buy whatever they value and destroy it.”
“Deal,” she said through giggles.
“Don’t be nervous.” I couldn’t kiss her cheek, because I didn’t want to ruin her makeup. “I don’t care about these people’s opinions. Neither should you.”
Though, I couldn’t imagine anyone not being dazzled by Charlotte.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
(Charlotte)
As it turned out, dinner with a huge number of people was less intimidating than dinner with Matt’s sister and mother. I didn’t have to worry about making a good impression on any of the other guests. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see them again.
They didn’t seem like Matt’s crowd.
Elizabeth’s birthday dinner was held in a larger dining room, this one with circular tables seated according to a chart. Luckily, Matt and I were seated together, with Scott, so I didn’t even have to make much conversation with hoity-toity strangers.
Between the meal and dessert, uniformed waiters poured glasses of champagne for us, and Elizabeth rose from her seat. The champagne must have been a signal, because everyone fell quiet and turned their eyes to her.
“I want to thank you all for coming to fete me on this, my thirty-second birthday,” she said, to a rumble of subdued laughter. “And I also thank you for your generous contributions, in lieu of gifts, to the food banks and food shares across Connecticut.”
Scott leaned over and whispered, “The food these people wasted tonight could have fed the whole state on its own.”
I covered my derisive snort with my hand. Sure, I wasn’t exactly a philanthropist, but it was a little difficult to see everyone pat their own backs over their charity when I knew for a fact that some of those people had enough money to solve world hunger twice over.
For example, your boyfriend. Like a hypocrite, I pushed that thought firmly aside.
I turned my attention back to Elizabeth and her toast. She raised her glass and thanked everyone again, and we all drank and clapped. Then, Matt got to his feet.
“Oh god,” I whispered to Scott. “Is this like a wedding? Are there going to be a ton of speeches?”
“No, just Elizabeth and Matt,” he reassured me. “It’s how it goes every year. Brace yourself, he’s going to make us sing.”
“Like my mother, I thank you all for coming here to honor her. I think everyone in this room knows exactly how special she is, so I won’t belabor that point. But I would appreciate it if you would join me in embarrassing her a bit with a song,” he said, and then, to my utter delight, broke into a round of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” with appropriate pronoun changes. Everyone joined in while Elizabeth blushed and waved a hand in feigned protest.