Signing a contract was one thing; carrying it out was another.
What if I bombed at the event? What if I tripped or said something stupid? What if he realized I wasn’t the companion he’d hoped for after all and terminated our agreement?
I instinctively reached for my crystal pendant. I’d chosen an unakite jasper today for healing, and I clutched it for dear life until the cool stone warmed and settled my nerves.
It’s fine. Everything will be fine.
Maura, oblivious to my inner turmoil, brightened and leaned forward at the mention of a party. “Ooh, fancy. What are you wearing?”
In that moment, she sounded so like her old self my chest squeezed.
She used to tease me all the time about boys. Preteen me would huff and complain, but I spilled all my secret crushes to her anyway.
“I haven’t decided, but I’m sure I’ll find something. The real question is, what should I do with my hair?” I gestured to my curls. “Put it up or leave it down?”
Nothing animated her like the topic of hair. Hers was pin straight, but she’d had to learn how to care for my specific hair texture when I was young, and she’d become an unofficial expert over the years.
I still used the post-shower hair routine she put together for me when I was thirteen: apply curl cream, detangle with a wide-tooth comb, squeeze out excess moisture, apply argan oil, and scrunch hair upwards for definition.
It worked like a charm.
A smile curved my lips at Maura’s indignant harrumph. “It’s a party at the Smithsonian. You must put it up. Come here.” She beckoned me over. “Have to do everything myself,” she muttered.
I stifled a laugh and moved my chair next to hers while she took the pins out of her bun so she could work her magic.
I closed my eyes, letting the peaceful silence and the familiar, soothing tug and pull of her fingers wash over me.
Her movements were slow and hesitant. What took her minutes to do when I was a kid took her triple the time now. But I didn’t care how long it took her or what the result looked like; I only cared about spending time with her when I still could.
“There.” Satisfaction filled Maura’s voice. “All done.”
I opened my eyes and caught our reflections in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. She’d twisted my hair into a high, lopsided updo. Half the curls were already falling out, and the rest would probably follow as soon as I moved.
Maura stood next to me with a proud expression, and I flashed back to the night of my first ever school dance—of us standing in our exact positions now, except we’d been thirteen years younger and a thousand years more carefree.
She’d done my hair that night, too.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
I reached up to gently squeeze her hand, which rested on my shoulder. It was so thin and frail I worried it would snap.
“You’re welcome, Phoebe.” She patted me with her other hand, her expression softening into something hazier, more reminiscent.
The oxygen cut off halfway to my lungs.
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words made it past the tears welling in my throat.
Instead, I lowered my gaze to the floor and tried to breathe through the fist squeezing my heart.
You’re welcome, Phoebe.
I knew Maura loved me even if she didn’t remember me, and she’d treated me like her own daughter when she did remember me.
But I wasn’t her daughter, and I could never replace Phoebe.
I didn’t want to.
But I could care for her and give her as comfortable a life as possible. That meant doing everything I could to keep her at Greenfield, including making a deal with Christian Harper.
My stomach twisted. I couldn’t screw up the party tonight with him, and I couldn’t stall any longer. I had to announce our relationship soon if I wanted to get the Delamonte deal.
Maura had taken care of me when I didn’t have anyone else to lean on. It was time I did the same for her.
She was worth the sacrifices.
7
STELLA
I stayed at Greenfield for another hour, talking and doing puzzles with Maura. We’d migrated to the community room after I got my emotions under control, and we’d spent the rest of our time together assembling a five-hundred-piece mountain landscape.
I would’ve stayed longer, but I needed to get ready for the fundraiser. I was already cutting it close; when I got home, I had just under two hours before Christian was supposed to pick me up.
A wave of nerves crashed against my insides and drowned out the lingering melancholy from my visit with Maura.
Tonight would be my first time spending an entire evening with Christian. The Delamonte dinner didn’t count since we hadn’t spoken much during the dinner itself.
I turned on the shower and stepped beneath the spray of hot water, trying not to panic too much at what lay ahead of me.
Christian Harper was just a man.
Not a king, even if he was richer than one, and not a god, even if he looked like one.
I had nothing to be nervous about.
Since I was on a time crunch, I washed my hair, showered, shaved, and exfoliated with record speed instead of lingering in the shower like I wanted.
But despite my rush, I was still doing my makeup in my bathrobe when the doorbell rang.
Christian wasn’t supposed to show up for another half hour. Unless…
My heart rate picked up when the unsettling chill I’d experienced on the train drifted through my mind.
Stop it. It is not him.
I didn’t know why I was worrying so much when he’d been radio silent for two years, but the last thing I needed was to manifest my stalker back into my life by focusing too much energy on him.
I jumped when the doorbell rang again.
Had it always been so loud?
I capped my mascara and hastened to the living room even as my pulse beat triple time.
It’s not him. It’s not him.
I slowed to a stop at the front door and peeked through the peephole with my heart in my throat.
A second later, relief cooled my lungs, and I opened the door.
Christian stood in the hall, looking even more devastating than usual in a black tuxedo. With his perfectly wavy hair and clean-shaven face, he could’ve passed for a movie star on his way to the Oscars.
A tingle of awareness spread across my skin, mixed with curiosity at the white box in his hands. Medium-sized and flat, tied with a silky gold bow that obscured the logo.
I pulled my eyes away from the box and crossed my arms.
Do not be distracted by the shiny object.
“You’re early.” Getting ready was my favorite part of an event. Sometimes, I liked it better than the event itself.
I didn’t appreciate being rushed, even if it was my fault for not leaving Greenfield earlier. Still, I thought I had half an hour left to myself.
“You’re not dressed.” Christian’s gaze coasted from my half-done face to my bare, red-painted toes. Something inscrutable passed through his eyes for a split second before it disappeared.
“Because you’re early.”
He ignored the pointed reminder. “May I come in?”
I was tempted to say no and tell him to return at our arranged pickup time, but since he technically owned the apartment, I opened the door wider and stepped aside.