Julia
Ahushed whisper subdued the conversations from the first floor. My mother’s announcement of our engagement had no doubt skirted from person to person much as the game of telephone from long ago. As with the game, I couldn’t help wondering about the complete accuracy of what was being whispered.
The guests turned our direction as Van and I descended the staircase.
“I was wrong earlier, gorgeous. This is your grand entrance.”
Basking in his gaze, I lifted my chin as together we took the first step.
With Van’s hand on my lower back, all the concerns I’d entertained about attending this party melted away. I wasn’t a little girl or even my dad’s little girl. I also wasn’t marrying to fulfill a clause of my grandfather’s will or to secure the McGrath-Butler connection.
With each step, a sense of pride and love swelled within me. Van was right when he said that love didn’t have a timetable. None of my past or his mattered; we were a couple. Whether these people saw me as a capable woman able to make her own life choices or as a fickle child was irrelevant.
What mattered was the way the man at my side saw me, the way his green stare bathed me with the heat of his roaring desire. What mattered was the way we connected, not in front of this audience but when we were alone in our cabin.
The memory of me against the hotel window came to mind as warmth filled my cheeks.
There were stark differences between then and now.
One, I wasn’t naked, and two, Van wasn’t making love to me, not in the conventional way. And yet his presence and possessive touch filled me with the sense that I was his and he was mine.
The similarity to the window was what he’d said that night…about people watching.
They couldn’t see us that night. Tonight, every set of eyes was upon us.
In this moment, I wanted every person below to watch and see the undeniable connection that we shared. Van and I may have happened quickly, that wasn’t deniable. Yet for any of the people who held us in judgment for that, I felt only pity.
Pity that they had never experienced what we experienced.
Pity that they didn’t know red sin.
And pity that they’d lived their lives without it.
Once we reached the marble floor, offers of congratulations met us. People I barely knew introduced themselves to Van, shaking his hand, and welcoming him as a member of the McGrath family.
From what little public experience I had with Van, I knew that being in the spotlight wasn’t his favorite thing. He preferred privacy to publicity, a quiet dinner at home to a grand presentation. And yet as I watched him, that dislike wasn’t visible. Van was charming, charismatic, and friendly. His ease pulled others to him. At this second, he was the opposite of the man described in some of the articles and even to who he claimed himself to be.
Van was in command despite any aversion to this situation.
Finally, a familiar face pushed her way through the crowd.
After shrill squeals, Vicki and I wrapped each other in a hug.
“Bitch, introduce me,” she whispered close to my ear.
I reached for her hand. “I will.” Rolling my eyes, I said, “We seem to be stuck.”
“Then let’s get you unstuck.”
“Let me use you as an excuse. I arranged for us to sit with you.”
Vicki’s hazel eyes sparkled. “Oh, I’ve got this.” With my hand in hers, she turned toward the hallway leading to the back of the house. “Excuse us. Excuse us.”
I was helplessly tugged forward with just enough time to catch Van’s eye and encourage him to follow. By the time we made it out into the tent, Vicki and I were laughing. It wasn’t until her laughing stopped that I realized Van had caught up to us.
Before I could introduce Vicki and Van, he grinned, offering his hand. “The famous Victoria, I presume.”
She stood tall, using the skills she’d mastered through life, the skills to walk the walk of the refined—it was an act and I loved it. “Mr. Sherman. I hear you want to marry my best friend.” She winked my way while standing erect, waiting for his answer.