He held my gaze for a minute, then turned back to the road. “It was my pleasure, Emily,” he said, his voice equally soft. “Completely my pleasure.”
Chapter Twenty-two
I spent an hour getting ready for the party on Thursday. I was feeling slightly nervous that Brooke and Greg wouldn’t hit it off. I loved her, but I knew how she could come off to strangers. Greg didn’t do bold and brassy very well.
“You look hot, sister,” she said, coming into my room. “Are you actually putting makeup on?”
I looked over at her and sighed. It didn’t matter what I did, I could never compete with Brooke. Not that I would actually try, but still. She was simply gorgeous, no getting around it.
“I wear makeup all the time now,” I told her. “And I do my hair. Your little girl is all grown up.”
I expected her to laugh, but she just squinted her eyes at me, as if in deep thought. “Really? Because I don’t remember you wearing makeup once the whole time I’ve been here.”
“Really?” I asked, trying to remember. That didn’t sound right. I got dressed up on a daily basis lately—surely this wasn’t the first time she had seen me in makeup.
“Anyhow.” She bent down to fasten the buckle on her heels. “You about ready?”
“Yup,” I said, standing up from my dressing table and fluffing out my hair. I had styled it straight and sleek, the way Greg liked it. I had thought about wearing one of the dresses he had bought me, but fell in love with this one while out shopping with Brooke earlier in the week. It was black with brightly colored flowers splattered across it, cut straight across at the top with tiny spaghetti straps and falling to an asymmetrically cut skirt. It was different from anything else I owned—much more colorful and wild. I hoped Greg would like it as much as I did.
My fingers lingered over my jewelry box. I knew he would like to see me in the bracelet, but I couldn’t bring myself to put it on. The questions Brooke would fling at me if she saw it—well, I just didn’t feel up for it. Besides, it didn’t exactly go with my wild dress.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s head out.”
Ryan, Chris, and Ashley were waiting for us in the living room. “Wow,” I said, looking them over. “This is definitely the best this group has ever cleaned up.”
“We’re all a little nervous to go over to your rich boyfriend’s house and meet his rich friends,” Chris said, tugging on the sleeve of his suit coat uncomfortably. I tried to remember the last time I had seen Chris in a suit. Graduation, probably.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I assured them. “We’ll all have fun.”
I didn’t admit that I myself was feeling pretty damn nervous. I said a silent prayer as we all headed down the stairs that everything would go well.
We decided to take two cars so no one had to squash their party clothes, Ryan and Brooke coming with me while Chris and Ash drove together. Ryan and Brooke kept up a steady stream of gossip about hot celebrities, for which I was grateful. My stomach was churning, and I didn’t think I was up to small talk just then.
“Okay,” I said, pulling up to Greg’s building. “Here we are.”
“Holy, crap,” Brooke said, looking up at the towering stone façade. A valet rushed over to take my keys.
“Welcome, Miss Donovan,” he said politely.
“The valet knows your name?” Brooke hissed.
I nodded, feeling stuck up. This particular valet had taken Greg’s car on a number of occasions, yet I had no idea what his name was.
We waited on the sidewalk for Chris and Ashley to arrive. Once the valet had taken Chris’s car and we were all together, I turned to the glass front door. “Here we go,” I murmured.
My friends were silent as we walked through the ornate lobby and climbed into the elevator. I could tell that they were trying to play it cool. They could barely look at each other, probably for fear that they might curse or start laughing or something.
A doorman met us at Greg’s apartment. A doorman, I thought, trying hard not to roll my eyes. Did he have to be so over the top?
“Welcome,” the man said, smiling at us. “Please come in, and enjoy your evening.”
We all filed into the foyer. From here I could see hints of Greg’s apartment, the glass wall of windows in the living room, the marble abstract sculpture resting on the hall table, the polished wood floors. Thinking about it from my friends’ perspective, I was struck anew by how large and fancy everything was. I chanced a glance at them—with the exception of Ryan they were all wide eyed. Chris whistled softly under his breath, and I had to fight to keep from laughing.
“Emily!”
Greg strode down the hallway toward us, his face alight. I couldn’t help but smile back, my tension melting away.
Just before he reached me, I noticed his eyes flicker down over my dress. His expression instantaneously seemed to close up a little, but he took me in his arms all the same, kissing the top of my head as he pulled me to his chest. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I said, pulling back. “Greg, I want you to meet my friends. You know Ashley and Ryan, I think, but this is Chris and Brooke.” I pointed them out and they both nodded at him, smiling. “They’re two of my closest friends from home.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Greg said formally. I once again saw his eyes flicker down over Brooke’s dress as he shook her hand. Was I crazy, or was there just the barest hint of coldness in his voice? “Please come in. There are drinks and hors d’oeuvres through there.”
He took my arm. “Sweetheart, can I talk to you for a minute?”
I smiled at my friends, hoping they got the hint to go ahead into the party. They walked ahead, and Greg led me to the laundry room just off the hall. Right before we walked through I caught sight of Brooke, looking over her shoulder at me. Her eyes met mine, and I thought I detected a hint of worry.
“Hi,” I said, turning to smile at Greg—but he was frowning at me. “What?”
“What are you wearing?” he asked, disapproval clear in his voice.
“What do you mean?”
“I assumed you would wear one of the dresses Lauren helped you pick out,” he said, looking me up and down. The disapproval in his eyes seemed to grow. “I thought that was the whole point of our shopping trip.”
“But I…I thought…” I knew I was stammering, but he had caught me so off guard. “I saw this shopping with Brooke and really liked it. Is there a problem?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I just wish…my boss is here, Emily. I thought you might wear something a little more appropriate. Don’t you think that dress is a little…loud?”
I felt like he slapped me. What right did he have to criticize my clothes?
“I didn’t think you controlled my wardrobe,” I said, crossing my arms. “I like this dress.”
Greg just shook his head. “You’re in an adult relationship, Emily, and you need to think about my position.”
Before I could respond, he turned to the shelf above the washing machine. “You left this here last week,” he said. “Maria had it dry cleaned. Please put it on.”
He held out a black cashmere cardigan. I just stared at him, not really believing he could be so rude.
“Emily,” he said, his voice sharp. “I’m asking you to put this sweater on, while you are in my house with my boss. Please don’t be a child.”
All of a sudden, all of my anger left in a rush, leaving embarrassment behind. The expression on his face made me feel small and silly. Had I really messed up here? Greg’s business was so important to him. For him to get worked up like this, I must look really inappropriate. I took the sweater without a word and pulled it on.
“Thank you,” he said, leaning down to kiss my head. “I need to get back out there.” Without another word, he turned and left.
* * *
The party seemed endless to me. Endless and painful. I could see Ashley and Ryan trying to make an effort with Greg an
d his friends, trying to mingle and be social. But Brooke and Chris seemed perfectly content to stand off alone and not talk to anyone but each other. I couldn’t really blame them. With Greg’s arm constantly around my waist, I was stuck listening to the most boring stream of real estate shoptalk I could imagine. And when they weren’t talking about work, they were talking about stuff. Cars, toys, electronics, clothes. I stood there in near silence, a vague smile plastered on my face.
Sometime later (I was so bored it was hard to keep track of time), Tom and Angie approached us. Tom wanted to see Greg’s new sound system, so he left me to chat with Angie.
“Where’s your bracelet?” she asked the second Greg was out of earshot. “I was dying to see it. Tiffany’s! Why on earth aren’t you wearing it?”
“It, uh, didn’t go with my dress,” I said.
“Yes, your dress is, uh, lovely, dear. So unique.”
I looked up and saw Brooke standing a few feet away from me, her eyes locked on me. Suddenly, I was struck with the most uncontrollable urge to burst into tears.
“Will you excuse me, Angie?” I asked, backing away. “I need to use the restroom.”
“Sure, sure,” she said waving me away. “But I want to hear all about that bracelet when you get back.”
I just barely made it to Greg’s bedroom before the tears started to sting my eyes. What was wrong with me? I’d had such high hopes for the night, for Greg and Brooke to meet. Instead, I had barely said two words to my best friend all night, and Greg had said even fewer.
I went over to his bedside table to get a Kleenex, pressing it firmly against my eyes. I couldn’t cry tonight, not here. Everyone would be able to tell. I looked down at the table, trying to distract myself. Greg kept a silver framed photo of his mother there, right next to the bed. I picked it up and looked at her face. She really had been beautiful, tall and blonde with blue eyes.
You remind me of her, Greg had said, more than once.
Feeling weepy all over again, though I barely knew why, I set the picture down and pressed the Kleenex back to my eyes, taking deep breaths.
“Em?”
I spun around and saw Brooke closing the bedroom door softly behind her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just tired.”
“You don’t look tired. You look really upset.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, Brooke. Really.”
“What are you doing here, Em?”
I gestured to the table behind me. “I just needed a Kleenex—”
“Not in the bedroom,” she said, clearly exasperated. “Here. With that guy.”
“Greg? Greg is wonderful—”
“No he’s not,” she said, her voice flat. “He’s rude and judgmental, and he’s trying to turn you into something you’re not.”
“Excuse me?” I felt immediately defensive. How dare she talk about Greg like that?
“What’s with the sweater, Em?” she asked pointedly.
“Look, Greg has a lot of important work people here tonight. He needs me to look a certain way…” I quelled under the fiery look in her eyes. “I mean, to look appropriate. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? It’s a huge deal.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “You’ve never been in a serious relationship, you don’t know how this works.”
“I know exactly how this works,” she said, her lips turning up in a sneer. “You think you’re not good enough for the guy, so you let him control you.”
“He doesn’t control me!” I spluttered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. In fact, I think you’re just jealous!”
She laughed without humor. “Do you know what I think, Emily Donovan?” she asked, her eyes flashing. “I think you are fooling yourself.” She shook her head. “In fact, I’m not even sure I know who the hell you are right now.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, the heat rising to my face.
“I’m talking about this,” she waved her hands around the room. “I don’t know who this person is, but it sure as hell isn’t my best friend.”
“What, because he has money? Don’t you think you’re being a little bit judgmental?”
“It isn’t about money!” she cried, looking downright pissed now. “Why would I care about his money? It’s about you.”
“What about me?”
“Can’t you see how you act around him?” she asked. “I mean, do you have any idea? When Chris told me about the romance project thing, I just thought it was stupid, harmless, and silly. But this. Jesus, what happened to you?”
I felt a momentary flash of embarrassment that Chris had told her about the project, but I pushed it down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, defiant. “Greg makes me very happy.”
She snorted. “You seem real happy. God, I haven’t seen you smile once since we got here.”
“I’ve been smiling all night,” I cried, throwing my hands up in exasperation.
“Not your real smile,” she said, and I rolled my eyes. Before I could respond, she went on. “You know what you’ve been doing? You’ve been smiling the way you do whenever someone comes up to you and tells you how much you look like your mom.”
I felt the air leave my lungs. Brooke knew how hard it was for me when people at home would accost me, wanting to tell me some story about my mom. How dare she bring it up now, here?
“Em,” she said softly. “I just mean I know what it looks like when you’re trying to convince people that you’re fine, even though you really aren’t. That’s how you look when people bring her up. And it’s how you look here, with him.”
“You’re wrong,” I told her, my voice shaking. “You haven’t seen me much lately, you know? How do you know what my expressions mean? For all you know, you’ve been seeing my totally real, blissful smile all night long.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, Em. I know you. And I know when you’re really happy. I saw it yesterday, remember? When we were out with Elliot, you were happy all day long. God, I haven’t seen you look like that with Greg once.”
“Shut up,” I whispered. I didn’t want to hear this anymore. I had so wanted her to like Greg, to be happy and impressed when she saw this place, when she saw how far I had come. And she was tearing it all down, casting everything I had worked for into shadow. It wasn’t fair. I was about to tell her so when I heard the bedroom door behind us open.
“Emily!”
The voice was firm, disapproving. I looked up and saw Greg standing in the doorway. “I can hear raised voices from outside. What’s going on?”
I immediately felt guilty. “Nothing,” I said quickly. “Sorry, we were just…just…”
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s inappropriate,” he continued, his voice flat. “We have guests. You shouldn’t be hiding away in here arguing.”
I lowered my head, the guilt growing. “Sorry,” I said softly. “We’ll be right out.”
Without another word, Greg left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. The room was silent for a moment. I finally looked up and saw Brooke staring at me, the look on her face impossible to read.
“That,” she whispered, and I suddenly realized what I was seeing in her face. It was disgust. “That is what I’m talking about. You’re like some wet dish cloth around him. He calls all the shots, and you act like you’re just lucky to be in his presence.”
“I am lucky,” I shot back. “I’m lucky to have him. He’s—”
“No,” she said firmly. “You’re not. He makes you someone different, someone weak. Of all people, Emily Donovan, controlled by a man. I never thought I’d see the day.”
I wanted to argue with her, to tell her that she was wrong, that she didn’t know what she was talking about. Tell her that she was jealous. But the words got stuck in my throat. Brooke stared at me for a long moment, her breathing heavy, the way it always got when
she was worked up. When I didn’t respond, she shook her head and brushed past me, toward the door. When she had gotten a few paces away, she turned back.
“You know,” she said, the anger gone from her voice. Now she just sounded sad. “I knew your mom for eight years. Loved her like she was my own family. She would be so sad if she could see you right now.”
Her words hit me like a physical blow. I actually took a step back, as if she had slapped me. But I had no argument for her, no way to refute her. I could do nothing but watch her as she turned without another word, leaving me alone in the room.
Chapter Twenty-three
The next morning, I cowered under my blankets, listening to Brooke gather her things. She had slept out on the couch last night, apparently too disappointed in me to be in my room. When I got home from Greg’s after midnight, she was already asleep on the couch—or pretending to be.
After she had left Greg’s bedroom, she and Chris had left immediately—gone before I had even come back out to the party. Ashley and Ryan were waiting for me, clearly bewildered.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told them, my voice emotionless. “They’re mad at me. You guys can go if you want, I probably won’t be good company. Take my car.”
They left a few minutes later, casting me worried looks as they thanked Greg and said good night.
Greg hadn’t said another word about my fight with Brooke or our argument over the dress. Instead, he carried on as he usually did—charming to everyone, attentive to me. Even when he drove me home and we were alone in the car, he was simply his normal, polite self. I wondered if he even noticed how quiet I was.
Remembering the previous night sent a blush to my face, even though I was alone. Even though I was angry as hell at Brooke for what she had said, I had the terrible feeling she might be… I closed my eyes and buried my face in my pillow, feeling the knots in my stomach double as I tried to banish that thought from my head.
“I guess you’re too chicken to come out and say goodbye,” Brooke called out suddenly from the living room. I froze under my blankets. How did she know I was awake?
In Search of a Love Story (Love Story Book One ) Page 18