Page 82 of The Love Trick

Addy:Thanks. Spending it old Hollywood style for my birthday party.

I stare at the message, trying to read through the lines. I immediately heart the text, giving myself a chance to think about what to say as I roll my lips together. I’m still standing inside the jewelry store, and these people probably think I’m going to return the bracelet or something.

Me:I hope you have a great time.

I hit send, then stare at how mundane the response is. Normally, I would’ve asked her if she needed saving—orsomething.

But I already told her I missed her, and she didn’t say it back.

She didn’t invite me there.

Maybe this is a bad idea.

She likes the text, and I shove my phone into my pocket, stepping out into the evening air. My nerves have my stomach churning, and my anxiety starts picturing all of the bad outcomes that could come from this. For all I know, Addy probably told her mom she didn’t want me there…

Maybe I should just go home.

I slide into my driver’s seat, setting the gift on the console. I start the engine and sit here, already knowing I’m going to be a few minutes late. My knee bounces nervously as I debate calling my friends for advice. I was so certain after talking to Addy’s mom that this was the right thing to do, but…

But now, it seemsreallyterrifying.

Chapter Thirty

Addy

IstareatBlaze’stext, my heart thumping in my chest. I could text him back, but what would I say? Iknowhe knows I’m not into this glamorous stuff. And after a week of trying to look luxurious with the help of my mother, I gave that up so fast.

I don’t know why I thought dressing up and pretending to be something I’m not would help me move on from Blaze. It only made me feel even more out of place in my own skin. And it’s really not much better than pretending to have a relationship to avoid my family’s judgment.

I’m done trying to win the approval of others and losing myself in the process.

Which is why I’m back to wearing my dog-hair covered, off-brand attire.

Well, not tonight. Tonight, I’m in a black floor-length gown that accentuates my curves, and my hair is in a sideswept wave. I look the part, but I feel empty inside… Especially when I think about starting a whole new decade of my life without Blaze in it.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Mom calls to me, sauntering over with a fresh glass of chardonnay for me. “Why the glum face? This night is all about you.”

I stare at her, unable to conjure up why this woman is so excited—or why she keeps looking toward the entrance. As far as I know, all the guests have arrived. Although I don’t know many of them, I appreciate her and my sister’s effort in planning this thing. They’re just trying to help me feel better, and that’s made evident even more so as the lights dim around us and a slideshow starts on the wall of the ornate ballroom. I choke up as pictures ofmeflip across the screen.

“I had to make this one special.” Mom plants a kiss on my cheek and then joins my dad, who’s chuckling at a picture of Aurora and me with ice cream all over our toddler faces.

I try to find it in me to laugh, standing here as the pictures keep coming, following my life from diapers all the way to college.Andthenthere’s a picture of Blaze and me, my freshman year. I have on his jersey, and his arm is wrapped around my shoulders.

I need air.

I need air now.

Sniffling, I slip through the crowd of people I don’t know, making my way toward the back exit of the building. Pushing through the door, I step out into the warm evening, the back lot aglow by a strand of lights. I glance around at the empty area and blow out a ragged sigh.

“I hate this night,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head and considering what might happen if I just take off and go home.

“Yeah, turning thirty can be hard,” a deep voice says from behind me, followed by the sound of a door closing.

I spin around, my eyes wide at Blaze …in a tuxedo.“Why…”

“Am I here?” he finishes for me.

“No.” I shake my head, trying to conceal a grin. “Why are you in a tux?” I take in his brawny figure, dressed to perfection in anexpensive,tailored tuxedo. His hair is perfectly styled, swept to the side, and as I make it to his shoes, I gasp. “You’re wearing your Converse?”

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