Page 79 of False God

Louis and I talk alone for a few more minutes before our conversation expands with more people, friends of the Hugheses who are of Louis’s generation. I end up talking with a group of former schoolmates from Oxford.

No one is really sure how to act around me. By rank, I’m the most important person here. But the guys my age are ones I drunkenly played pool with. Me being thefutureDuke of Manchester mattered a lot less than me beingtheDuke of Manchester.

I’m suspended in the weird place of recalling those relaxed days during anirresponsiblepoint in my life and now having to interact with the same people from aresponsibleposition of esteem.

It’s strange and slightly uncomfortable.

But I suck it up, same as I do with all my other duties.

19

Chloe laughs as her dad dips her during their father-daughter dance.

I smile at the sentimental sight. Grab one of the disposable cameras off the table and snap a photo of the sweet moment.

Next to me, Bridget sniffs. I pat her thigh.

Today has been an emotional day for all of us.

“Come on, guys.” Tripp appears, perching on the edge of the empty seat to my left. “We’re almost up. Final rehearsal out on the terrace.”

It was Fran’s idea to perform a group dance at Chloe’s wedding. My song suggestion. Hugo’s job to choreograph it. Tripp was the organizer. Cal and Jasper were in charge of designing and printing the T-shirts.

The final result is … a spectacle.

“We’ve practiced twenty times,” Bridget says, sipping more champagne.

“And you were late on the last clap on Thursday. Plus, we didn’t get to practice last night because someone”—a pointed glance at me—“wasn’t around.”

I roll my eyes. “Myclap was on cue.”

“Fine.” Tripp leans back in the chair. “If you want Chloe to remember our tribute to twenty years of friendship being an amateur performance?—”

“For fuck’s sake, Tripp.” Bridget stands. “This is supposed to befun.” She stalks toward one of the doors that lead out to the terrace.

Tripp bounds up eagerly, leaving me sitting alone at our table.

I sneak one last glance at Chloe dancing with her dad, then grab my glass and follow them toward the exit.

The blister forming on my left pinkie toe throbs, and I deliberate if it’s worth changing into less cute but more comfortable shoes for the dance. I’ll see how much it bothers me during our final rehearsal, I guess.

I step onto the stone pavers, rushing to catch up with Tripp and Bridget. Jasper, Cal, Hugo, and Fran are already huddled up ahead, Jasper holding a bundle of white that must be the themed shirts.

I don’t see it coming. One second, I’m vertical, running through the steps Hugo came up with in my head. And then I’m falling, my stomach lurching as I pitch forward. I toss the glass on instinct, lifting my arm to cushion the hit. One of my heels catches between the pavers. I’m kept airborne for an extra second, teetering, before gravity prevails. My hand, shoulder, and head collide with unforgiving stone.

“Lili!”

“Oh my God.”

“Can you hear me, Lili?”

“Fuck.She’s bleeding.”

“Are you okay?”

A cacophony of concerned voices swirls around me as I absorb the fact that I’m now lying on the ground.

I inhale shakily. Exhale an “Ow.”

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