Page 69 of The Match

I step a little closer and put my hands on her hips. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you out of my sight.”

Evie’s eyes glow and then fall to my mouth.

I’m bending down to kiss her when the front door suddenly flies open. Evie jumps, and I let go of her. We both look to the woman watching us with an expression that is somehow both bored and angry. It’s hard to explain. Kind of like she hates me but also knows she can crush me at any moment.

“Wonderful,” Melony says with mock enthusiasm. “You brought your friend.”

It’s in this moment that I wish Evie and I had already had the talk that’s been rolling around in my mind all day. Because, yeah, that’s all I am to her, technically. A freaking friend. Not for long, Melony.

“Hi, Mom. You look nice,” says Evie, being really generous to her mom.

Melony’s hawk eyes scan down Evie, and she sighs. “At least you’re wearing something on your bottom half tonight.”

You have got to be kidding.

Evie’s shoulders lower and it’s like I can see her caving in on herself. I hate seeing her like this. And I hate this woman for making her feel bad about herself.

“Evie looks perfect as always.” I put my hand on Evie’s lower back. It’s not much, but since I can’t shove Melony to the ground and then run off with Evie it’ll have to do for now.

“Oh goody,” Melony says with a vicious smile. “He’s a hero.”

Evie flashes an apologetic smile up at me and wraps her arm around mine. “Okay, let’s just go inside, shall we?”

CHAPTER 32

Evie

I hate being in this house. It’s wrapped in memories that I despise.

“Do you feel that?” I whisper to Jake as we follow Mom from the foyer into the parlor, where, supposedly, the rest of the guests have been waiting on us for the past fifteen minutes. I call bullshit. We were right on time! If they were waiting, it’s because those snooty booties got here early.

“Feel what?”

“That plunge in temperature. My mom’s heart is so cold it keeps the house at a chilly sixty degrees.”

Jake laughs, which draws my mom’s attention. She looks over the shoulder of her powder-pink linen dress and scowls. “I know you’ve been out of society for a while now, but try to remember your manners, Evelyn Grace. None of your jokes at the dinner table if you want to leave here with a check in your pocket.”

“All you said was that I had to attend tonight to get the check. You can’t change the rules now, Mom.”

“As long as I am holding the pen, I can change the rules whenever I like,” my mom says with a lazy smirk as she pauses outside of the parlor threshold.

Everything looks exactly as it did the day I left home. Dark-chestnut hardwoods, cream walls, and expensive thick trim for the baseboards and windows. Plush rugs with various shades of slate blue, cream, and burgundy dot the floors, and in the center of the foyer, there is the same round antique table that would make Joanna Gaines salivate.

Mom’s house has been featured in Southern Living as one of the most beautifully designed houses in Charleston. It’s not at all my style. Everything is overdone. Overdecorated. It’s not warm or inviting like Jake’s house. And instead of smelling of vanilla and teakwood, I think the candles they burn here have wicks made from hundred-dollar bills, giving it the overall aroma of wealth.

Mom gestures with her hand for us to enter before her. She casts a disgusted look at Charlie, and I know she’s annoyed that I brought him. I feel a familiar prickle of dread roll over me, and just as I’m considering kicking off my heels and running for the door, I feel Jake’s hand slide into mine. I glance up at him, and he winks at me with a smile that makes my heart grow.

That’s when I realize this night isn’t going to be anything like all of the rest. Jake is with me. I have a sidekick. Someone to shoulder some of the weight and help me deflect the fiery scowls my mom will throw at me.

I’m lighter and more hopeful as we step into the room together. And then, as plain as day, I can spot the trap. Time to turn around and bolt again. In fact, I do. I spin out of Jake’s hand and make a beeline for the door, but Mom catches my arm before I can escape, and I realize it’s too late. We’re toast. Done for. All good feelings are gone.

Mr. and Mrs. Murray are seated on a love seat, and Tyler is standing by the beverage cart with something amber-colored already swirling in the glass in his hand. I hate when he drinks. It makes him more of an asshat. And handsier.

Apparently, my parents were hoping this would be a family dinner. Because that’s what they want all of us to be: one weird, competitively dysfunctional family. I wouldn’t be surprised if I looked in the corner and found a preacher gagged and tied until they’re ready to force him into officiating a ceremony.

“I thought you said we would be having a dinner party with important guests,” I hiss at my mother. She’s no longer Mom to me. It’s Mother from here on out. I knew she was underhanded, but this is too much. Forcing me to eat and be merry with people whom I have clearly been avoiding.

She’s got her fake pageant smile on and that disgustingly sweet voice that gives me chills. “Of course I did. Because these are the most important guests, dear. It’s been much too long since you’ve seen Tom and Amy.” She’s spinning me around, and old habits really must die hard, because I’m pasting my fake smile on too, even though I really want to stomp on my mother’s foot and yell NEVER! before running out of the room.

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