Filed under the world is so unfair: my deodorant is failing, while Amelia’s lifting her arms and all I can smell are fresh flowers and baby powder and maybe warm chocolate chip cookies?
How do people get to be rich and have their armpits smell like warm chocolate chip cookies? And I really want to know what kind of toothpaste she uses, because her breath is remarkably pleasant too.
“I thought that’s what the sea lions were for,” I say. “For entertainment.”
“You get tired of them after the first seven galas of the year with them present.”
“Oh my gosh, I could never—”
“I’m aware, Begonia,” Amelia says, but there’s no snark in her voice. It’s all warmth. “I only wish I could’ve counted on you to slice and dice Brock and Trixie Sturgis’s livers.”
“I tried, but I don’t know if they were smart enough to get the insults.”
She makes the same kind of noise in her throat that Hayes has made several times tonight. The kind that made me wonder if I was amusing or annoying him.
Warm hands settle at my neck, igniting goosebumps all over my skin, and I’m suddenly free.
Amelia pulls back too, dangling our intermixed necklaces in hand. “Shall I send yours back once my assistant has solved this little issue?” she says to Hayes.
Not to me.
To Hayes.
We can be friendly, but I get it. We’re not friends. And I’m clearly borrowing jewels, because I don’t belong here.
“Begonia would love to have her necklace back,” he replies. “Thank you.”
“Begonia!” Peyton joins us. Yes, Peyton Baker, Jonas’s movie star wife who won a Golden Globe and an Emmy this year, which I know because awards shows sometime get exceptions for my no-gossip rule. To my utter astonishment, she grabs my hands and pulls me in to kiss my cheeks in turn, executing the move so flawlessly she manages to make me look like I know what I’m doing with air kisses too. “We were so sorry to miss you at the wedding, but completely understood. I’m so glad you’re here. How’s Hyacinth?”
“She’s like a Thanksgiving turkey with her popper thingie stuck in the wing instead of the thigh. Ready to pop, but not fully baked.”
Peyton Baker knows who I am.
Peyton Baker. Hollywood’s biggest badass leading lady.
She knows who I am, and she knows my sister’s name, and that my sister is pregnant, and I just made the very worst comparison ever to turkeys and pregnant woman and I am making no sense, but everyone’s still smiling kindly at me.
Good gravy.
Whose life am I living right now?
Why can’t Hayes and I dash off to a little cabin in the woods and read and do clay art and talk and get naked and just have fun? How is he related to these people?
More importantly, how did I forget that he’s related to these people?
Breathe, Begonia. They run out of toilet paper at inopportune times in their bathrooms too. Just regular people. Regular people. Regular people.
“We’re so excited for her,” Peyton says. “And where’s Marshmallow tonight?”
“H-Hayes assigned Nikolay to guard him so he doesn’t ruin Fran?oise’s kitchen or redecorate the family portraits.”
Jonas laughs. “I love that furry beast.”
“He’s worth the daily Benadryl.” Hayes slips his arm around my waist and squeezes lightly. He’s been talking about me. He’s been telling his brother about me. And I don’t know if this is an act or if they’re all merely kind, but I’m getting a warm, squishy feeling in my heart.
They’re doing it for Hayes. Not for me.
I know they are.
But I love that he has people who’ll look out for him like this.
“Have you gotten to explore the city yet?” Peyton asks me.
I shake my head. “Just a little with Keisha.”
And then I remember who I am.
Am I world-famous and sophisticated and comfortable here? No. But I’m a people person, and these are people. “And what about you?” I ask. “How was the honeymoon?”
Her bright brown eyes light up. “Everything we needed it to be, though unfortunately too short.”
“We’ll take another one at Christmas,” Jonas tells her.
“You should try the Maldives,” Amelia says, reminding us all, again, that she’s still here. “They’re beautiful at Christmas.”
“Thank you. We’ll add that to the list to consider.” Peyton smiles at her, and my heart suddenly aches for Amelia. She’s being dismissed. Politely, but still dismissed.