Page 117 of The Charm of You

“You did not have to go through all this trouble, Mrs. Summers. We could’ve come down to the kitchen!” Addie gushes, and Maren hops up to lend a hand.

I freeze to the side, my nerves rattled.

My friends have a lot of faith in me, but how can I convince a broody man like Austin to try long distance with me after I leave? He’s never seriously dated someone in the same zip code as himself. I don’t have magical powers to cast a spell and make him agree to such a hefty request.

And if I did, we could date with him here and me in New York, but to what end? He’s not the kind of guy who’d make a life he’d be happy with in the city. He’s admitted as much himself, as has his mother, and she knows him best.

All the odds are against us, aren’t they? We’ve been living in our own world all week, careful not to make any promises, as I’ve adamantly tried to escape my reality in every sense. My life in the city is in shambles, but I can’t keep running away from it.

I can’t keep pretending reality isn’t knocking on the door of this fragile bubble around us.

chapter

thirty-seven

AUSTIN

The jacket of this damn suit is heavy over my shoulders.

I’ve just arrived at the Buchanan House, and already, I’m itching to yank this stupid thing off. I look like a jackass—a pretentious jackass, no less.

It doesn’t help that all the drinks are in flutes, which are passed around on silver trays by people in white-and-black uniforms. Are we at the fucking governor’s ball, and I didn’t know it?

Where is the cheap bourbon?

It might burn going down, but it takes the edge off all the same.

A clap on my shoulder jolts me forward. “I’m feeling like a bourbon. What about you?” Owen steps in front of me, wearing his own suit haphazardly like he just ran three miles through strong winds. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, and—is that a stain on the collar?

“You read my mind, Conrad.” I glance from side to side, skimming over the black-and-gold decorated entryway.

It’s like a blast from the past in here, partly because of the aged mansion itself, but also because of the old pictures framed and proudly displayed on the welcome table.

Then there are the balloons and heavy techno music playing overhead, and together, it all reminds me of prom. What I imagine prom was like, anyway, since I never attended mine.

I turn in the other direction and peer down the hall, which ends with a back door propped open that leads to the courtyard. From here, part of a balloon arch is visible, and I shake my head. Addie went overboard with the balloons, but there is not enough bourbon.

A handful of people traipse through the area, as the party was officially set to begin only five minutes ago. It’s still fairly early, but I’m fucking antsy to find not just a drink, but Caroline too.

I’ve been worked up ever since the tour this morning.

I want to ask Caroline when she’s leaving, but how can I do so without having the conversation? The one where I tell her this can’t work between us in the long run. That I meant it when I told her we wouldn’t have some magical fairy-tale ending.

It’s true. We won’t. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy to say, and I definitely won’t fucking enjoy it.

I need bourbon sooner rather than later.

Thankfully, Owen produces a flask from his jacket pocket. “I brought the smooth, expensive shit. Miss Uptight stocked the bar, but there’s nothing like this over there. It’s the one drink I asked for too, but she wouldn’t listen.”

I take a swig and hand the flask back to him. He was right—this is the fine shit. “Addie didn’t listen to you? That doesn’t sound like her,” I say sarcastically.

He throws his head back, and the laugh booming out of him practically shakes the ancient foundation of this mansion. “You’re funny, man. Were you this funny in high school?” He lifts the flask to his mouth and gulps down a healthy amount. Is there anything left?

How much has he had to drink tonight?

“I only discovered humor last year,” I deadpan as I continue staring at the door like I’m trying to will Caroline into existence. “Where is Addie? Shouldn’t she be here by now? I figured she would’ve been the first to arrive.”

He lowers the flask and stares blankly at me, his neck blotchy with crimson spots. The guy is hammered, and we haven’t even started the party yet. “You’re right. Is she okay? Fuck. Do you think something happened to her?”

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