Mr. Mayfair (Mister) - Page 20

I’d factored in lying to Karen and Matt, but I hadn’t really thought about the fact I’d have to lie to my friends—people I loved—about Beck. Jo didn’t deserve me lying to her, even though she’d be completely understanding and sweet if she found out.

I was a horrible person. There was no way I was going to be able to pull this off. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if it was too late to fake a vomiting bug. But that would be a lie, too—I was surrounded by them.

“Depends on if you mean when we first met or when we started dating. Our first social dinner was a couple of months ago?” Beck turned to me for confirmation. I just nodded.

“Wow, you have been playing your cards close to your chest,” Jo responded. “I’ve not seen anything on Facebook or Insta.”

Shit. Social media. I hadn’t thought about documenting anything on there, but before I could say anything, Beck interjected. “Yeah, I don’t do social media. Unless it’s business-related.”

“Oh I see,” Jo replied. “I’ve heard about people like you, but I thought you were like the Loch Ness monster or a yeti—just a myth.”

“Don’t have Instagram, yet I’m still breathing,” he said. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Rather than being amazing, it just means you’re old,” I replied.

“Or far more interested in being with you than online.” He fixed me with those deep, green eyes and those walls that appeared when we first met were back—locking everyone else out, leaving just Beck and me, alone, staring at each other as if we’d known each other a thousand lifetimes and didn’t need words to communicate.

Jo cleared her throat, bringing us back to the moment. “The party’s in here,” she said, nodding toward double doors.

I glanced around the ballroom as we entered. A cacophony of sparkling lights, pastel colors, and the strains of a string quartet surrounded us, and my breath caught in my throat. It was beautiful. A huge arrangement of lilacs and summer flowers hung from the ceiling, drooping down over the central bar designed out of mirrors and glass. More flowers hung around the sides of the room, bringing the outside in and filling the space with a light, floral scent.

This wasn’t Matt’s choice. His family would have opted for something far more traditional at the family home. No, this was Karen all over—expensive but tasteful. I guessed it was good Matt had learned to compromise. He’d always been so stubborn when we’d been together, but why hadn’t he learned to compromise for me?

Chatter, clinking glasses, and laughter swept through the space. I was probably the only person in this room who wasn’t happy for Karen and Matt. The only person who, when it was said that they were perfectly suited, agreed, but only because they were both cheating, disloyal, despicable people.

“Are Florence and Gordy here?” I asked. If Beck and I got talking to them, it might save us from having to make conversation with people who asked too many questions.

“I haven’t seen them yet,” Jo replied.

We settled at a ridiculously thin, tall table that people were supposed to stand around and rest their drinks on. “Stay here, and I’ll go and get some drinks,” Beck said.

He was going to leave me? I’d thought his suggestion of making sure we were together most of the night was a good one. What happened if he bumped into someone and told them a thousand things about our relationship that I had no idea about? Or if Matt and Karen appeared and Beck wasn’t by my side to make me seem less of the bitter ex-girlfriend than I felt.

As I surveyed the room, looking for Florence and Gordy, Karen walked straight into my eyeline as she came toward our table. My vision blurred slightly, and I held onto the edge of the table to steady myself. Jesus, she could have at least let me settle in and find my sea legs.

This was the woman who’d stolen my boyfriend, my lover, my friend.

Or the woman my boyfriend had left me for.

I wasn’t sure which was worse.

I tried to look at her like a stranger would—what was it about her that made him throw away seven years?

Was she prettier, funnier, better in bed?

Did he just love her more?

She squealed as she got closer. “I’m so pleased you’re here,” she said, pulling me into a hug as if nothing had happened.

I’d tried to prepare myself for this moment, but I hadn’t come up with a game plan. I could be so nice that I was clearly being sarcastic. I could be cool but distant. I could ignore her, or I could tell her what I thought of her. Except the last option probably would have our invitation revoked so that wasn’t really an option. I’d decided to do just what felt right in the moment, but I found myself paralyzed with anger, fear, and a lack of understanding.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it,” Karen said. “I know you RSVP’d and everything but honestly, I expected you to come down with stomach flu or something.”

I put on my best fake smile. She was saying she expected me to lie. I guess she was judging me by her own standards. “My stomach is just fine.” Not only did she have a complete lack of remorse, she also couldn’t even be nice to me. She’d stolen my boyfriend and now she was acting as if he was hers all along. Maybe he had been.

Perhaps she was embarrassed and hoping that we’d all forget about it. Because that was so easy to do when you’d lost the love of your life to your best friend.

She laughed and glanced at my cleavage. “Well, I’m so pleased it is. And did you bring your . . . date or whatever?”

Tags: Louise Bay Romance
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