Page 40 of Silver Foxed

Busted. God, I’m bad at this. I want to lie to Mom, but I know that if I do, she’ll see right through it. I’ve never been that great of a liar.

“We can’t talk about this here,” I say as Dad looks over at us.

“Everything okay?” he wonders quietly.

“Yes, dear.” Mom smiles at him. “Just gossiping.”

He grins and turns back to the awards. I dare a glance at Elijah, who’s looking at me again, but then he quickly turns away. Crap, this is bad. As I’m about to excuse myself to the restroom so I can breathe, Dad says, “This is me.”

Thankful for the distraction, I try to give my full concentration to the announcer and another woman who came up onstage to talk about my dad’s achievements. Eventually, they call him up to the stage, and he stands, kissing Mom on the head and beaming at us before he walks off to collect his award.

With my dad no longer at the table, I fail in my attempt to keep my focus from Elijah and shift my eyes back to him. As if he can sense it, he turns his head, and we stare at each other. I try to convey to him that I think Stephanie knows, but his blue eyes remain steady. God, I wish I could speak mind to mind with him, to tell him I think our secret isn’t so secret anymore. And if it is, it won’t be for long.

Mom clears her throat loud enough that Elijah and I both break our connection and look to her. “When Oliver gets back, go to the bathroom, Alex. And you”—she commands Elijah—“go get a drink. Then you both can talk.” She scans the room and motions with her head to a side door. “Go all the way down the hall and to the left; there’s a veranda outside. He won’t find you there.”

Elijah’s mouth drops open like a fish out of water. I shrug at him because what else can I do? He’s probably thinking I told her, but I haven’t said a word. Apparently, we really suck at pretending everything was just a normal weekend at the lake house.

Mom smiles softly at me. A smile that says whatever is going on is okay. I should’ve known that she wouldn’t care if Elijah and I spent more than platonic time together. She’s always been supportive of me, no matter what I’ve chosen to do—or who I’ve chosen to do. She even supported me in my relationship with Sean, though I knew she didn’t like him, either.

I gulp down the rest of my disgusting wine and force my attention back to the stage. Dad is happy as he holds his award and launches into his speech, talking about the work he loves to do and why he does it. I love seeing him like this. My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat, and I start to think that maybe Elijah was right after all; we can’t tell my dad. But now that Mom sort of knows, he has to find out eventually, right? I doubt she would be able to keep that secret—at least not for long.

I observe Elijah. He’s worried and confused, and I don’t blame him. I am, too. When the clapping starts, I take a deep breath and spot my dad as he comes back to the table. Mom is the first to hug him, then I get up and do the same. Elijah claps him on the back as he sits down and sets the fancy glass award on the table.

“Beautiful speech, Oliver,” Mom says, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” Dad smiles, picking up the award. “I can use this as a fancy door stop.”

I roll my eyes, and Elijah chuckles. With a sip of my water, I decide it’s now or never. Part of me wants to run away from this, but with Stephanie peering at me and Elijah fidgeting as if he might crawl out of his skin, I know I need to face the proverbial music.

“Please excuse me; I’m going to use the restroom,” I say, standing. I give Dad a small smile, and he mirrors it while Stephanie tries to reassure me with a gentle look. My gaze skips over Elijah, not wanting to draw any attention to us.

I brush my hands down my black dress as I weave my way through the tables and people until I’m outside the ballroom. I turn right and go down the hallway, taking the directions Mom gave me until I meet the doors of the veranda. They automatically slide open, and I’m greeted by the cool night air.

Turning to the left, I walk down the long porch until I’m the furthest I can possibly be from the doors. Once I’m satisfied with the distance, I lean against the white railing and take a deep breath.

Then I wait for Elijah.

Chapter eighteen

Elijah

My breath leaves my body as I spot Alex at the end of the veranda. She’s leaning on the white railing, her ginger hair spilling over her shoulders in perfectly styled waves.

I don’t move for a minute, letting my gaze linger while I take in her beauty. I absorb the image of her, drinking in the fact that she’s real. She’s here. And she’s not a figment of my dreams anymore.

God, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed everything about her—her smile, her laugh, her voice, her teasing jokes and dirty mouth—I’ve missed it all. She’s all that I’ve been able to think about. And the minute I saw her at the bar, I couldn’t stop myself from walking over to her. She was a flame, and I was a moth. I’m helpless when she’s around.

Sensing me staring, her head turns, and our eyes connect. That invisible string between us tugs, and I stick my hands in the pockets of my slacks as I walk to her. I’m glad nobody’s out here but us so I can speak with her freely.

When I reach her, she turns so we’re facing each other, her back pressed against the railing now. Her face is neutral, but I can see the stress in her body. I hate that I’m the one who’s caused it.

“Hello, Alex,” I say after a moment.

“Hi,” she says back, her green eyes staring up at me through thick painted lashes.

“You look stunning.” My gaze drags over her voluptuous form encased in a very tight and very short black cocktail dress.

She tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”

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