Page 13 of Dream Girl Drama

Chloe shielded her face with a cupped hand, so Harvey and Sofia wouldn’t see the gagging face she sent in Sig’s direction. His lips twitched briefly, before he settled back into dark intensity. A contemplative expression that told Chloe he was thinking a million miles an hour.

Eight months.

That was... a surprisingly long time. Her mother was usually a little more impulsive, especially when it came to planning her own exchange of nuptials. She had three ex-husbands to show for it, including Chloe’s father. Not to mention two broken engagements.

In fact, now that she really took the time to observe Sofia and Harvey together, she noticed a whole host of differences in her mother. Had Sofia ever looked so relaxed? Her waistline wasn’t pinkie thin, as usual, and for that, she looked much healthier. Had a glow, even. Her hair was down loose. She hadn’t covered her grays, and those lighter strands were weaving through the crown of blond hair that matched Chloe’s.

Was Harvey good for her mother?

Was this time different?

And if so,whydid this time have to be different?

That frustration, which was admittedly selfish, caused Chloe to shift in her seat, scooting in closer to the table. As a result, the inside of her right foot brushed the toe of Sig’s boot and her stomach sucked in on reflex, a throb capturing her entire body in one big constriction.Whommm.Across the table, his eyelids drooped and he slowly dragged a breath in and out.

“Of course, you’ll both be part of the wedding,” Harvey said, oblivious to what was taking place on the other side of the table. “A big part, actually. Sig, I know we haven’t exactly been close, but I was hoping you’d agree to be my best man. Asking a mere friend simply doesn’t seem right when I have a son.”

Sig blinked several times, turning to face his father. “You’re askingme?”

Harvey beamed. “Yes, son.” His smile dimmed slightly. “I know we haven’t been on the best of terms over the years, but Sofia... well, she has a way of making me hope again.” Growing visibly misty eyed, Sofia squeezed his arm. “What do yousay, Sig? Stand by my side while I marry the woman of my dreams.”

Was it Chloe’s imagination or was there a touch of suspicion, skepticism, in Sig’s eyes as he observed the happy couple? Did he not find their relationship authentic?

Sig seemed to realize everyone was waiting for his response. “If it works with my game schedule, I’ll...” He massaged the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’ll do my best.”

“Fabulous!” Sofia cried, holding up her glass. “And, Chloe, do I even need to ask you? You’ll make such a stunning maid of honor. I’ve already booked a girls’ weekend in Paris so we can be fitted for our gowns by Margaux Tardits. As if we’d go anywhere else!”

“Great,” Chloe said, feeling like she was on an out-of-control conveyor belt that continued to roll faster, faster and she couldn’t reach the off switch. She was six again, being thrown onto the stage in front of a packed auditorium, no plan, just told to play.Play!“Paris will be a lovely escape over the winter.”

“Indeed. Perhaps we can arrange a performance while we’re there. I’m sure any number of venues would love to host you. Haven’t you always wanted to play the Palais Garnier?”

“I...” Had she expressed interest in that at some point? She must have. Although sometimes it was difficult to tell where her wishes ended and her mother’s began. “Yes, I suppose I would.”

Her eyes drifted to Sig’s across the table and whatever he saw caused a muscle to hop in his cheek. “What about Boston, Chloe? Have you ever thought of studying there?”

A hush fell over the dining room.

Sofia lowered her drink to the table.Clink.

It was on the tip of Chloe’s tongue to say no, to please her mother and keep the dinner pleasant, but... something stopped her. Maybe it was Sig’s foot settling itself against hers beneath thetable. As if to pass on strength or encouragement. Or maybe it was the overwhelming sense of isolation she’d been feeling lately. Her loneliness didn’t make any sense when she was surrounded by people at the club, instructors, tennis partners. Friends she’d known since birth who already owned their own homes in the area. Some of them were married, having babies, taking over charities from their parents. Living the life their parents had envisioned for them.

But Chloe had an unusual skill. She played the harp like she’d been born with the strings attached to her fingers. It was her most treasured escape. The elegant instrument drew her, cocooned her, nurtured her heart and soul. She loved it beyond measure.

It also meant she was stuck in this... in-between place.

Too promising in the music world to settle down and stop training, performing.

But too sheltered to really explore what waspossiblefor her in music.

Or in life.

She’d been in this triangle existence for years, being driven between lessons, home, the club. She was at her mother’s beck and call. She kept the peace, did as she was told. And lately her skin had started to feel too tight, like she couldn’t move or breathe inside of it. What was the point of having this talent and not being free to achieve anything with it? Or see what she was capable of?

I’m twenty-five years old.

Oh my God, I’m twenty freaking five.

The need for change—for rebellion—had been brewing inside of Chloe for some time, but this man, this unexpected force of a man across the table, was kicking down the final blockage between Chloe and her courage. Perhaps because he was so obviously bold and confident and outspoken. Perhaps because his presence was so steady that it steadied her, too.

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