“I’d be an asshole if that’s what I wanted you there for.”
“Then what do you want me for?”
“I wanted you before I got into bed with you. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself after everything I did in prep school.”
“You have me now.”
“And you have me.” I kiss her.
But I can’t help the unease that pricks at me as we dart back to my bedroom. I watch her dress with a needle digging under my skin.
Things are good.
We’re too good.
And anytime something feels this perfect, I know that the bad is coming.
27
Julia
I attach the fake eyelashes to the magnetic adhesive on my lids. Nice. Turning my head in the mirror, I take in my upswept chignon. A few tendrils hang around my face, softening the style. My lips are a glossy nude and my cheeks are contoured and highlighted.
My lips quirk. The classy stripper.
The doorbell rings and echoes in the house. Poppy and Taylor have already left for the holidays, but they’ll be back before New Year’s so we can celebrate together.
“One second,” I call as I rush down the stairs in my bare feet.
I swing open the door with a big smile.
Eric leans against the doorjamb, looking devastatingly handsome in a black tux, obviously tailored to fit, the silky fabric snug over his shoulders and chest. His hair is tamed and swept off his face. On his feet are polished black loafers.
“You weren’t kidding when you said it was formal,” I say, smiling.
“You look good enough to eat.” His eyes drink me in, starting at my hair then roving down to my pale pink toenails.
“Thanks.” I smooth down the lines of my cocktail dress. Made from raw black silk, it’s a textured, lush fabric. The bodice has spaghetti straps and a square neckline. Reminiscent of the fifties, the skirt is flared out with a petticoat underneath. On top of the skirt is a layer of Italian lace in a rose lace design. I feel like a million bucks.
I step into strappy black heels, then reach behind the sofa and pull out a flat, wrapped package. “You said we’d exchange gifts before the party, so . . .”
“Whoa, this thing is huge,” he says as he takes it from me and sits on the couch. He grins. “The wrapping paper is reindeers playing hockey. You did good.”
I nod, anticipation rippling over me as he tears it open.
“Julia. This is awesome.” His eyes track over the poster-sized hockey photo of him I had professionally framed. It’s the one where he looks like a blur on the ice. He gets a bemused look on his face.
“What?” I sit next to him.
“I don’t know. Just not used to getting such a great gift from a girl. It’s nice.”
“You’re welcome.”
He draws me close and kisses the top of my head. “This pic is going on my wall.”
I rub my hands together, then hold them out to him. “Mine?”
“Eager, huh? Hang on.” He strides out to the porch, then comes back inside holding a red box with a white bow. “This is part one.”
“Part one? You’re spoiling me.” I tear open the lid and gasp. “Is this . . .”
“A Nikon. I read all the pros and cons and this one came out on top. It comes with a bag and all sorts of lenses.”
It’s clear he spent more on my gift than I did his.
“You like it?”
I nod jerkily, feeling the gulf between us but also not caring. He’s wonderful.
I wrap my arms around him and hug him for all I’m worth. “I can take that job in January for sure.”
He caresses my back, then pulls away to smile. “Good, good. You want the next gift?”
“Duh.”
“Hmm, it’s coming soon.”
“Tease,” I exclaim. “When do I get it?”
“Maybe you already did.”
I mock scowl. “Is it you? Are you the gift?”
He kisses my lips lightly, being careful not to mess up my lipstick. “Not telling.”
An hour later, we pull into a long circular drive to a house with acres and acres of maintained landscaping. The bushes and trees are covered in twinkling white lights.
My mouth parts when I see a fountain that looks like something out of Versailles.
The house itself could be a museum. The entire thing is white. Spotless. Unspoiled.
Eric shoots a glance at me. “Impressed?”
“I’m certainly blinded by the light.”
He points at the white and gray marble columns that line the long porch. “Growing up in this house, it wasn’t as great as you might think. Beautiful things can be fucked up.”