Page 40 of Loud Awake and Lost

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I’d never liked this fussy house, and it set me on edge to be here again. And at Drew’s engagement party, no less. It was odd to think of Drew committing to something as selfless as falling in love, since he was always such a prick to everyone. Not a prick like Claude, who targeted his words like a sharpshooter and was always hoping for a reaction. Drew was tone-deaf; he moved through the world in rudeness and oblivion, hardly ever recognizing that his insults and oversights were painful to others.

Across the antiques and coiffed heads in the Wildes’ parlor, I spied Holden talking to his grandparents, who’d come in from Summit, New Jersey, for the weekend. Holden’s eyes were also red-rimmed with allergic reaction; plus the beard was gone, and I suspected that his clean shave was the result of losing the argument to his mother. It disappointed me slightly that Holden hadn’t held his ground on that one.

“Whoa, boy!” I crouched to accept Jolly’s waggling, nose-to-tail, full-on doggy-greeting at our unexpected reunion—and nearly fell over backward in the process.

“The ewww factor just doubled,” whispered Rachel on my side as I stood. “Claude’s here. At least he’s with Lucia. She makes him less awful.”

“How’d he get invited?” I asked as we all exchanged fake-friendly waves across the room.

“Not him; her. Probably Aunt Eleanor heard that Lucia’s family’s got rocks.”

“You know, even when Holden and I were going out, I always felt like Mrs. Wilde looked down on me,” I admitted. I’d never confessed that before—it had embarrassed me. But now it didn’t seem to matter.

“How so?”

“She just kept me at a distance. Like, for example, she never, ever let me call her Eleanor.”

“Oh, because that’s such a privilege.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “First-name basis with the Wicked Witch of the Heights.” She nicked an endive leaf topped with something cream-cheesy from another passing caterer. “Hey, this reminds me,” she said as she crunched. “You know that every morning for breakfast Jake Weinstock eats a cream cheese and—”

“Girls!” Like a tiny shark, Mrs. Wilde was plunging through the parlor, heading for us.

“Annnd…here we go,” whispered Rachel.

I put on my best game face as Mrs. Wilde pulled up at us with an air-kiss that barely made it within six inches of our heads. Her thin strawberry-blond hair was stiff-sprayed into what Rachel called the “party pumpkin,” and she was wearing a cashmere sweater set paired with a leopard skirt—Holden once had told me his mother thought an animal print cast a wide net of dress-code acceptability for whatever anyone else showed up in.

“Aunt Eleanor, congrats. I can’t believe someone’s actually going to marry Drew.” Rachel said it in such a way that I knew it was hard for Mrs. Wilde to tell if she was kidding. Which of course she was not. I bit my bottom lip to stop my smile.

“The house looks great, Mrs. Wilde,” I said.

“Ah. Thank you, Ember. And you are looking…wonderful.” Mrs. Wilde was unapologetically checking me out. “Wonderful”—she trilled the word again—“that you’re here with us, Ember.”

Here, as in here on earth, as a car accident survivor? Or here, as in ex-girlfriend with a possible second act? Or was Mrs. Wilde just being one hundred percent insincere as usual, and madly wishing that she hadn’t allowed Holden to invite me to her oldest son’s engagement party after all?

It was so hard to gauge fake people.

“Girls, please don’t whisper and giggle with each other all evening, all right? Try to mingle. It’d be such a help to me.” Mrs. Wilde flashed an oversized smile; her Botoxed forehead stayed indifferent. “Ember, my goodness! We must catch up once I finish the rounds.” And with a parting pat on my shoulder, she glided back into the crowd.

“Promise me you will never let me turn into someone who ‘finishes the rounds,’ ” whispered Rachel once Mrs. Wilde was out of earshot.

“Now, now. No whispering, no giggling.” I frowned. “Mingle, minion!”

Which cracked us up all over again.

The Wildes had stocked their party with the usual suspects, mostly soft-faced, parent-aged couples in woolly blazers and tortoiseshell glasses. Holden’s older brother, Drew, looked fancier in his pinstripes. When I saw him in the back of the dining room, chin up and ready to rumble, an unexpected unease washed through me. I’d never liked Drew, and I really didn’t like him now, pumped with pride over his engagement, which he probably just viewed as another milestone in his smug, accomplished life.

As if sensing that eyes were on him, Drew glanced out. The heat in his stare, when he found me, made me want to run.

“Ouch. Did you see that? Drew just threw you some mean shade,” Rachel whispered in my ear. “What’s the deal with his deal?”

“You tell me,” I said carefully, distracting myself by kidnapping a crab cake from another passing tray.

Rachel sighed. “Drew probably thinks you’re going to dump Holden again.”

I swallowed. “How can I dump Holden again if we’re not going out?”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, Drew’s a stuck-up conservative jerk, so maybe he’s just practicing his standard jerk glare. Isn’t it amazing how everyone finds exactly their person?” Rachel wagged her head in wonder. “I mean, Raina is the best fit for Drew. The girl is wearing a freaking Minnie Mouse polka-dot headband and has tiny bows on her shoes.”

I studied Raina, slim and elegant at Drew’s side. I knew what Rachel meant, but I didn’t completely agree. “Maybe she’s dressing that way because she thinks people expect her to dress that way. I think there’s a much more fun, twinkly, non-corporate-lawyer version of Raina who is dying to get out and karaoke.”

“She’ll be sad to learn Drew Wilde is one hundred percent twinkle-free.”

“Then he can borrow her twinkle on Saturdays.” Was I imagining this, or had Drew just scowled at me again? Of course, he had one of those naturally inverted mouths that made it look like he was annoyed pretty much all the time.

Still, I could feel my face go blotchy with embarrassment.

Seemingly aware of my distress, Holden finally detached from his grandparents to join up with me. He threaded his arm loosely around my shoulders and bent for a quick cheek kiss. “You’re awesome to come to this. What can I get you to drink?”


Tags: Adele Griffin Suspense