While I’m making Addison her drink, my father and I trade a long look over her shoulder. And I can’t help but recall how many times I’ve seen that same guileless expression before during debates and press conferences. He might be playing the charmer, but his opinion of my relationship with Addison isn’t going to change. An opinion that could sour further now that I’m slowly bringing her out into the open. Was it a mistake to bring her here?
No. It wasn’t. Two weeks ago, when I was forced to wait outside the market for someone else to help Addison out, the secrecy became a burden. It weighed on my nerves, reminding me hourly that if something happened to her again, I’d have to watch from the sidelines—and that wasn’t going to fly. There’s no reason for secrets and I’m not going to be half a friend to Addison when she’s been a whole one to me. Inviting her to meet my parents is my way of letting everyone know she’s not going anywhere.
And she isn’t.
I hand Addison her tumbler of bourbon just in time for my mother to approach.
“Miss Potts,” she says smoothly, inclining her head at Addison. “The papers haven’t done you justice. Aren’t you just the spitting image of your mother?”
For the first time since walking into the room, Addison’s smile falters and there’s an answering jab in my chest. “You knew Addison’s mother?”
“Of course.” She takes a leisurely sip of champagne. “Why, we were all schoolmates as young girls. She was Della’s cousin, after all. They were inseparable. Until…”
Until Della’s fiancé slept with Addison’s mother and possibly got her pregnant.
I’m not clear on my mother’s intentions, but those stinging words hang in the air unspoken and I take a step toward Addison, laying a hand on the small of her back. “Since we’re recalling the past,” I say slowly, “You’ll remember Addison didn’t have a hand in any of it.”
“Of course not.” My mother flattens a hand on her chest. “Forgive me, Addison, for bringing up something ugly. They’ve been feeding me champagne. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Addison recovers and holds out her hand, shaking my mother’s. “It’s lovely to meet you, too, Mrs. Du Pont.”
“Please. Call me Virginia.” Her shoulders pop up to her ears. “Ooh. Addison, have you met Roy’s adviser, Preston?” She cups a fragile hand to her mouth and calls to the young man across the room who’s pacing the floor, phone in hand. The only one in the room who isn’t friends or family. My father has been at City Hall less and less over the last few weeks, and in turn Preston hasn’t darkened the hallway much, either. His name remains on the tip of my parents’ tongue, though, so I know he’s still on the payroll, probably arranging speaking engagements for my father and ferrying my mother to charity functions.
As I’ve been poring over Preston’s work in the last four years, I’ve noticed the patterns of a yes-man. He never tells my father he’s wrong or submits alternate ideas, he simply runs with the play, likely leaving my father in the dark about the particulars—or setting aside of ethics—it takes to accomplish the task. When I’m mayor, I don’t want people like that around me. I want people who aren’t afraid to tell me I’m damn well wrong. This late in the game, there’s no question about my lack of interest in hiring Preston to my team, so the atmosphere between him and me has gone from mildly uncomfortable to glacial.
So when he approaches us to be introduced to Addison, I don’t like it.
I don’t like it at all.
“Preston,” my mother says smoothly, guiding him closer. Too close. “This is Elijah’s friend, Addison Potts. She’s new in town.”
“Uh…” I feel Addison’s quick glance up at me, before she extends her hand toward Preston for a shake. “Yes. I grew up here, but it’s been a while since I was home.”
“There are probably a lot of new things to see,” Preston says, hitting his S’s hard enough to abuse my eardrums. “Has anyone showed you around?”
Is Preston considered good looking? I guess so. Addison did say she prefers blond men. I’m not blond, though. Which doesn’t matter. And doesn’t bother me at all. Except to say I’m highly aware of not being her type…and if he doesn’t take his hand back soon, I’m going to snap it off his body. I don’t necessarily blame my mother for this, but Preston’s question makes it painfully obvious she’d been discussing my relationship with Addison within earshot of Preston. No, someone hasn’t shown her around. Because I’ve been keeping her stashed away like a hidden treasure. He knows it, too. They all know it. “I’ve seen enough to know it hasn’t changed too much,” Addison murmurs, pulling her hand out of Preston’s and tucking it under the opposite arm. “Still beautiful as always.”