"My parents are hosting a dinner. It's for some charity shit my dad's company does twice a year that they make me attend. They need a picture-perfect family for the night." She rolls her eyes. "Since you’ve gone supermom on me and want to save the world now, and I need a wingman, it's the perfect plan. Besides, who needs more saving than your own bestie?" She bats her eyelashes at me.
I give her a droll stare. Ever since I told her of my plan to open a nonprofit, she’s been calling me Supermom. I guess it's a step up from her calling me straight Mom in my nanny days.
"Really, Nat? I'm going to be standing there all awkward looking like the adopted daughter next to you and your parents."
"My mom and dad are a mess. One second they're good, and the next they're all weird and arguing. My dad cares more about his job than his family, so I doubt he'll be near my mom. He'll be busy trying to schmooze everyone who comes to the event. He's still a dick and she's a sweetheart, but whatever. If I have to suffer, at least I can do it with my bestie beside me."
I sigh dramatically. I guess it wouldn't be a terrible idea since my heart is set on opening a shelter one day. It could be a good learning experience for me and a way to network.
"How many people will be there? How long is this shindig?"
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "I'm sure my dad will invite the whole city. The only plus is this restaurant has amazing flower arrangements and my mom is obsessed with them, so that's why my dad is hosting it there." Natalie shrugs. “She's happy, I'm happy."
“Why do you have so much resentment toward your dad?"
I've never asked many questions about her family because I felt like it was never really my business. All I know is the basics—only child who grew up in an affluent part of the city, Dad is a hard-ass workaholic, and Mom comes from a WASPy background.
Natalie averts her gaze and stares at the wall for a long moment, her mouth pinching tightly together. She licks her lips and I can taste her loneliness when it comes to her dad before she even speaks.
"There was never a point in time or an event that divided us—we just never got along. I am my own person. I'm not a daddy's girl. I never have been, and I think he wanted that. My dad is a workhorse and the people in his field see him as someone of power. He and I are similar in many ways, so we butt heads easily. I want to make my own decisions, whereas he thinks his are best. He wants to provide me with the life he thinks I want and I should listen and be grateful." She looks at me. "It wasn't until it came time for college when my resentment turned to animosity. We said some hurtful things to each other that I'll never forget."
My brows angle together, sadness creeping its way into me. Natalie has a strong personality, so I can see how she would butt heads with someone who's like her. She's unyielding in her decisions and once she makes her mind up, that's it. There's no going back, and I love that about her.
"I hope in time things smooth out for you guys. It’s kind of sweet he's hosting the party at your mom’s favorite restaurant. It's an all-night thing?"
Guilt is written all over her face and it's impossible to be mad. "Don't hate me!" she begs, pleading with the champagne glass between her hands. "I'll treat you to a spa day. No vag waxing this time, promise."
A slow smile spreads across my face. "Perfect timing. I wanted some time with my bestie today anyway."
Thirty-Six
"First things first, we get a drink since I'm not going to know anyone here," I say as we step out of the town car.
Natalie gave me the rundown on the way to La Grenouille. We’ll be mingling with the upper crust on the most romantic night of the year. I feel like I'm crashing a party, but Natalie assured me it wasn't like that, plus she said her mom really wanted to meet me. Surely it won't be as bad as I'm dreading inside.
Daniel wasn't too thrilled when I told him I had plans with Natalie on Valentine’s Day. It's taken a few weeks and rounds of wild sex—for him, not me—to make it up to him, and then some.
Since becoming Valentina, I’ve begun to view sex as more of a chore. The intense, constant focus of the job has stripped me of feeling any real pleasure when it's on my personal time. Sex is not nearly as enjoyable, and orgasms are rare. Daniel doesn't even know the difference between a fake moan and a real one…unlike James.
Ugh, I used to love any act of sex, and now I can take it or leave it. Maybe if I didn't have to work so hard to make sure others feel gratification it would be a different story.
"It won’t be as bad as you think," Natalie says, regaining my attention.
"I'm not worried with you by my side," I tell her. I just hate feeling like a third wheel—or fourth in this case—but then I remind myself if the roles were reversed she'd be here with me, no questions asked. I stifle my thoughts and plaster a smile on my face.
We walk inside and it's a sea of expensive suits and designer dresses that flock from corner to corner, diamonds and dripping jewels flicker under the rose lighting, and the flowers are a soft contrast to the Botox-filled air I'm suddenly breathing in. A blend of vocal jazz and swing music plays softly in the background and I feel like I'm transported to a Frank Sinatra music video as we make our way to the bar. Natalie had said the place would be dressed up like a wedding and that we'd be doing cocktail hour, then we'll be guided to another room for a sit-down dinner.
After the first sip
of tequila and Sprite, I sigh dramatically—loving that first taste—and smile at Natalie.
Natalie downs her entire drink in one gulp, then lifts one finger to the bartender for another. I angle my head to the side and smirk at her.
"Are you feeling better?" I joke.
"Much," she says, her eyes wide.
Her shoulders are tense, so I make conversation to calm her nerves. I never had to go through something like this with parents, so it's new territory for me, but I'm going to try to make the best of it for her.