Page 56 of Never Kiss and Tell

“Don’t worry,” I say, opening my door. “I’m sure you’ll be up, thinking about my, what was it you called it? Perfect little body?” I slam the door, hurrying inside before he’s even made it out of the truck.

Inside the comfort of my room, I sag against the wall, my heart racing. My body ishot, despite the house being cool from the AC. And even though I just had the best orgasm in my entire life, my body still pulses with need. Why did I let him get to me? I should have climbed off him. Instead, I practically rode him to kingdom come.

And then to taunt me after. The fucking nerve.

Charlie Coulter just started a war and I’m a competitive bitch.

Bailey

I’ve never seen so much floral fabric in one place than when I step through the gate to Andi’s aunt’s house. Aunt Camille — her father’s sister, is hosting the bridal shower in the back garden of her aristocratic mansion in the center of the Garden District. I’ve never been to this part of the city, and while the homes are different and surrounded by trees full of Spanish moss, it reminds me a little too much of home.

Instead of the rich, rowdy history of the French Quarter, this area has an air of pompousness. Probably because I can imagine my stepfather in every single house.

Don’t get me wrong — the houses are beautiful. I’ve just come to find I like the messier lifestyle of the Quarter over the prim and proper ways of this part of town.

The theme for the bridal shower isSouthern Belles, something Andi had to dress me for. I’m wearing a dress that falls just below my knees, with delicate sleeves and a cinched neckline that shows off just enough cleavagethat Andi’s Mawmaw wouldn’t find it tacky. At least, those were Andi’s words, not mine. It’s pretty, in a sweet way, white with baby blue flowers all over it. She also gave me a low pair of heels and a hat in the same blue as the flowers.

Luckily, Lionel is my date to the event, so I don’t feel completely alone in my lack of knowledge of southern etiquette at garden parties.

Walking up the front sidewalk to the house, it’s hard to imagine anyone actually lives here. The house is a light pink with a white border. It’s large enough to fit a dozen of the house in the Quarter inside and the worst part is that it matches the grandeur of every other house on the street.

“They don’t make them like this in California,” I whisper to Lionel as I slip my hand through the crook of his elbow. I must say, Lionel cleans up nice. He’d gone for a light grey suit with a pink handkerchief in the front lapel. He’d forgone his usual durag, showcasing a head devoid of hair and a striking lack of makeup and eyelashes. He almost doesn’t look like the same person. I don’t tell him, but I like the real version of him better.

Lionel chuckles, his eyes darting around him nervously. “Weren’t you supposed to marry some big lawyer?”

“I wouldn’t say he wasbig,” I say, rolling my eyes, causing Lionel to laugh. “My stepfather is the important one.”

Lionel whistles through his teeth as a man in a dark suit, dark sunglasses, and absolutely no expression on his face opens the back gate for us to step through.

“I don’t think we’re in the Quarter anymore, Toto,” he murmurs, his eyes following the groups of women milling around the extravagant garden. Every woman is dressed in somevariation of the same dress I’m wearing. Every head is covered with a matching hat similar to mine, only larger, like it’s a secret competition to see who has the neck strength to hold up the biggest one. If I didn’t know any better, I would think I had stepped into the Queen of England’s private garden party.

“Forgive me, but I would like to bolt.” I turn to leave, but Lionel tightens his arm, not allowing me to slip free.

“You ain’t leaving me with all these women. They will eat me alive,” he grumbles so quietly, no one but me will hear him.

I clutch his arm tighter, some desperate part of me using him as a security blanket, like a baby bird, afraid to leave the nest. “I think you’re better schooled in pheromones than I am.”

Luckily, my eyes lock on a familiar face and relief floods through me. Andi hurries toward us, looking elegant in an all-white version of the dress that I’m wearing. There must be a store where they take all women to buy one of these dresses and initiate them into the Stepford Wives club.

“Get me out of here,” Andi grumbles as she approaches us.

I laugh as she takes hold of Lionel’s other arm and steers us to a table full of glasses of champagne.

“I’m serious. You have no idea what I’ve had to endure from Aunt Camille.”

She grabs two glasses, first chugging one and quickly placing it back down before anyone can see and then sipping the other.

“That your daddy’s sister?” Lionel asks, handing me a stem and then taking one for himself.

“Yes. Speak of the devil,” she mutters, narrowing her eyes at a woman walking toward us.

“Andi, dear, your grandmother is arriving. She would love tohave a chat with you before she comes inside.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Andi gives me a half-smile and then hurries off in the direction of the gate we previously entered to see her Mawmaw.

Camille turns to Lionel and I, regarding him with her nose in the air.

“You must be the maid of honor,” she says to me, flashing a bright white set of teeth.

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