The door opened, just a crack. “Are you decent?” Tristan asked and I sent up a small thank-you to the gods that it was neither my mother nor Lauren.
“It depends if you have tequila or not.”
He chuckled, that deep sound that seemed to make my bones shake, and gently pushed the door open with his foot. “I thought you might need a shot of courage.” He held up a bottle and two shot glasses. He looked phenomenal. Tristan was one of those men who would look good whatever he wore, but in a bowtie and a dinner jacket, he was insanely attractive. His slightly too-long hair always looked like he’d been styled for some Gucci modelling shoot, but I knew this was how he looked about ten minutes after getting out of the shower after he’d towel-dried his hair.
“Get in here and lock the door.”
He glanced behind him. “There’s no lock.”
I pulled open my dressing table drawer and brought out the rubber door stop I’d stolen from the school music room and wedged it under the door. “Wrong,” I announced. “Get me some booze, like yesterday.”
Tristan set down the glasses and poured us two shots of tequila and handed me one. I tried not to look at his long, tanned fingers as he reached out. His hands were enormous, with a smattering of hair on the back. His nails looked like he had regular manicures, although I couldn’t imagine Tristan getting a manicure any more than I could imagine my father getting one—they both had far more important things to worry about. Tristan was just one of those men who made zero effort in his personal appearance but looked like he spent eighty percent of his time preening. It wasn’t fair.
“We should cheers to us—the happy couple.”
I groaned. “Tristan, come on.”
“You need to get over yourself. So what if you’re telling all your friends and family a gigantic lie.” Tristan was grinning like someone who just had twenty-five million pounds land in his lap.
“It’s not funny. Are you trying to make me feel worse?”
“It’s a little bit funny. Take your shot. You’ll feel better.” He clinked his glass to mine and tipped back his drink. I had nothing to lose at this point.
“No one is going to believe this. A month ago, I didn’t even know you.”
“When you know, you know.” Tristan’s cocky grin unfurled on his face like he hadn’t a care in the world.
“How can you be so relaxed about this?”
“It’s a party. The people here know and love you. What’s to be stressed about?”
I put my head in my hands. What wasn’t there to be stressed about? “Well if we skate past all the lying and deceit, what about the tens of thousands of dollars this party cost to put on?” I said. “For a lie.”
“But your parents paid for it. They wouldn’t accept anything from me.”
I lowered my hands and looked at Tristan. “Wait, what? You offered to give my parents money?”
“For the party,” he said. “It’s my engagement too.”
Getting to know Tristan these past days had been a revelation. At first pass, he was just some pretty computer geek who didn’t have a care in the world. It didn’t take long to discover there was much more to him than that. He was thoughtful—to his friends and to me. He was broad-shouldered in every sense of the phrase. And he was so kind.
“You are ridiculously kind. Stop that. It doesn’t help.”
“I think we need more tequila.”
Maybe another shot would help. Maybe by the time I got downstairs I’d be a dribbling drunk mess and wouldn’t care about any of this.
He poured out two more shots and took his immediately.
“I’m having a meltdown. What’s your excuse for shots before a party?” I sipped my shot this time.
“Lying to people isn’t my favorite thing to do in the world either, Parker. We’ve just got to keep our eye on the end game—twenty-five million for Sunrise. Speaking of . . .” He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a business card. “I asked Lauren to put one of these on each person’s place setting.” I took the card from him. “I thought Sunrise might get a few donations from it.”
I looked down at the card and flipped it over. There was a QR code and a line that said, Sunrise does important work for children with congenital heart defects. It’s a cause important to Parker and Tristan. Every donation helps.
A lump formed on in my throat and I swallowed. “That’s really nice of you, Tristan.” He was so kind. Why had I roped him into this crazy scheme? It was ridiculous.
He shrugged. “It’s a very worthy cause.” He sat on my childhood bed. “Are you going down in your robe?” He nodded toward the pink toweling robe I was wearing. I’d had it since I was fifteen.