Second, I knew the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork, but that was about it. If there were etiquette rules to observe at high tea, I was not aware of them. I hoped that Evie and Mrs. Preston would overlook that, but they probably wouldn’t.
Third, James wouldn’t be there.
Fourth, he wasn’t here right now, and that was a problem, too.
I sighed, wishing that I could see inside his head. If he felt what I was feeling between us, why hadn’t he tried to claim me last night?
At the same time, I was relieved that we hadn’t done it. If sex was added into the mix of whatever it was that was going on between us, it would get complicated, fast. Or maybe the opposite would be true, and he would suddenly seem like every other John. Honestly, I didn’t know which one I was more afraid of.
I couldn’t decide what to wear, so I started looking at the tags on the clothes. I would wear whatever was most appropriate and most expensive. That sounded about right for high tea.
James still hadn’t come back by the time I was ready to go. I checked my phone for what was probably the hundredth time, but there were no messages.
I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a short, full floral skirt and two white shirts layered together. I’d put on several delicate gold necklaces that Elena had insisted were very stylish right now. I wore nude lace-up wedge sandals that probably cost more than my grocery bill for five months. I grabbed an enormous designer bucket bag and some aviator sunglasses to complete my look.
Damn, I thought when I looked in the mirror, no wonder rich people always looked good. It was pretty easy when your outfit cost as much as a large mortgage payment.
My phone beeped and I lunged for it, glad that I was alone so I didn’t have to be ashamed by my eagerness.
Go get ’em Audrey, it read.
I’ll pick you up at four. Text me if you need a rescue.
I held the phone close to my heart for a second. It was as though I could hear his voice, and feel him though his words.
Ok, I texted back, as if I was a normal, calm person.
Then I held the phone against my heart again because right now, I was anything but.
The lobby of Imperial Hotel was even more impressive than the Stratum’s, and it was eminently more stuffy. Oriental rugs, oil paintings, and crystal chandeliers emphasized the exclusive luxury of the place. I did not fit in here. I felt a cold trickle of sweat run down my back as I headed in toward the restaurant.
The firing squad was waiting for me, dressed in their finest.
“Audrey!” Evie said, coming up to me instantly. She was wearing a hot-pink sheath that hugged her body. It was obvious that Evie had been on an all-lettuce and Pilates diet leading up to the wedding: she was rail thin, her collarbones jutting out almost painfully. She was all sharp edges and blinding-white teeth.
I smiled at her, awkward and wary. “Are you getting excited?” I asked. “It’s only a few days, now.”
She gripped my arm. “I am so excited. Todd is the love of my life.” She searched my face with a laser-like glare.
“I know he is,” I lied. Except you tried to swap him out for his wealthier brother. “You two are perfect together.” I hope he comes to his senses and divorces you, then marries someone who’s eaten something in the last six months.
I decided to keep my thoughts to myself and pretend to be excited for her. “So, is everything all set for the ceremony?” I asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
To my relief, Evie started talking about the flowers and the photographer and the weather forecast. Like so many brides before her, she couldn’t see past the ceremony. She had wedding myopia, which was fine with me. I followed her to some nearby couches where her cousins and Mrs. Preston were seated.
Her cousins were Meghan, Michelle, and Sarah; if I’d understood James correctly, they all lived outside the city in Wellesley, a wealthy suburb. All three cousins were former investment bankers, married to investment bankers. All three of them had children, but you’d never know it by looking at them: their bodies were rock hard, sinewy with muscle, contrasting sharply with the soft, summery fabrics they wore. They scared the bejeezus out of me, too.
There were platters of delicious-looking appetizers, finger sandwiches, and cookies laid out before us, but no one had touched a thing. My stomach growled, and I self-consciously grabbed a sandwich. But Mrs. Preston smiled at me while I ate. “Hello, dear,” she said, turning her attention to me. I startled. Her face looked different today, oddly puffy.
“Oh, I’ve just had my facial filler today, don’t be alarmed,” she said. Her cheeks were big and round, like a chubby toddler’s.