“If he invited you to that party, it means something. They plan this event all year. I hear there are paparazzi!” Her voice turns a little bitter. “Even your father and I don’t get an invitation. It’s incredibly exclusive.”
I wince, guessing that a crime boss and former prostitute don’t pass the Mercer muster. As much as I want to argue with my mom, she’s probably right. An invite like this from Tristian is a declaration. I’m just not sure what he’s declaring, or who he’s declaring it to.
“Then I’m honored to be invited,” is what I say aloud.
“My goodness, and there’s the dance.” She sounds like someone who just struck oil, the words emerging fast and frantic. “Every year, the Mercer men take their escorts out onto the dancefloor at midnight sharp. It’s all anyone talks about the week after. Such a lavish tradition, don’t you think? Oh, I bet he’s going to take you! Do you know how to waltz?” She laughs, high and giddy. “What am I talking about? I don’t even know how to waltz!”
I blink, trying to process her words as fast as she says them. “I don’t know how to waltz, but if it’s, like…this big thing, I doubt I’ll be involved.”
Mom makes a pssh sound, and I can just imagine her flapping a hand. “He’s taking you to the party, so he has to take you out on the dancefloor. If he doesn’t, I’ll give that man the what-for.”
I smirk. “Whatever you say, mom.”
“And are you positive you’re okay about Christmas Day?” she asks.
“It’s fine,” I say, trying not to sound like it’s too fine. Because it is. Fine. ‘Fine!’ even. God, it’s the best news I’ve gotten all year. Apparently, after they sent me to boarding school and Killian entered college, the Paynes stopped celebrating Christmas as a nuclear family unit. Halle-freaking-lujah. “You two have fun on the cruise.”
She sighs, the static buzzing through the phone’s speaker. “It’s just your first year home, and we missed out so much—”
“No, mom. It’s really okay. This semester has been hard. Adjusting to college and all? Honestly, I’m just looking forward to a break before the next one starts.” I don’t mention that the guys have some kind of annual Christmas party that sounds way more fun than playing dodge-the-creepy-stepdad all day. “You guys deserve a break, too. I know Daniel’s still upset about Vivienne.”
“You’re right,” she relents. It’s all a good show. I know for certain my mother already has her bikinis packed and ready to go. “He really does deserve something nice, don’t you think? He works so hard. Lately, there are nights where he doesn’t come home at all. Just sleeps right there in his office, too bogged down with work to make the drive back home. He’s such a good provider.”
I roll my eyes, but when they refocus, I stop abruptly. “Shit.” The street ahead is blocked by a thick crowd waiting to enter Forsyth’s single toy store. I step into the road to cut around them, but at the obnoxious blare of a horn, hop back to the sidewalk.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, sounding worried.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” I look around, noting the small park that cuts through to the street where the other shops are located. “I just—I need to go, okay? It’s really busy out here and I don’t want to miss my appointment.”
“Fine, but I want all the details on this party, okay? Don’t make me hear about it second hand.”
Smiling, I tell her, “I promise.”
Right before I hang up, she orders, “And you’d better learn that waltz! Look it up online!”
I tuck the phone into my pocket, searching for a break in the traffic to cross the street. When I find one, I jog across the asphalt and into the park. From the outside, it looks like a straight shot to the shops on the other side, but once I’m toward the middle, I realize the path veers around a big fountain. I check my watch, hoping none of the places are closing soon.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Instantly, I know it’s one of the guys. Any deviation from my approved path was bound to set them on edge. I slide my thumb across the screen, lips twitching at the thought of one of them—or maybe even all of them—sitting around the GPS and gnawing their fingernails down. The bright light of the screen casts a glare into my eyes, but not enough that I can’t see the words.
That color blue looks good on you, Sweet Cherry.