Page 70 of Dear Roomie
“O, you look stunning.” He gives me another appreciative once-over and pulls me in for a chaste kiss.
My cheeks flush, both from his compliment and the attention drawn by the PDA. I always feel underdressed at these things; the emerald-green dress Mrs. Nicholson chose feels plain compared to the luxurious designer gowns many of the women are wearing.
“Thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself.” I try my best to keep my tone light, but just looking at him causes my heart to pang. It’s hard to see his smile knowing I’m going to kill it in a few hours.
“Not half bad?” He feigns offense with a teasing tone. “You wound me, Ophie. I got dressed up just for you, and you don’t even appreciate it.” He wraps me in his arm, burying his face into my neck, and whispers, “I guess you’ll just have to appreciate me getting undressed later.”
I freeze under the wrongness of his touch, but Tanner is oblivious to my discomfort. He pulls back, dropping another kiss on my lips, one that doesn’t stir anything inside me like kissing Morgan did. Kissing Morgan was a lightning strike against the rod of a skyscraper—an electrified inevitability. With Tanner, there’s no spark, no heat. Looking back, I don’t know if there ever was. Even at its best, kissing Tanner was a small shock of static, still electric, but nowhere near the same magnitude. Now it’s nothing more than the cold touch of damp skin.
“Hey, girls.” Tanner crouches to talk to his sisters at their level. “Why don’t you go play with some of the other kids. I promise I’ll bring Ophie back in a little while, and you can play with her then.”
The girls nod and scamper off to wherever the rest of the children have been banished. Mr. Nicholson runs on a platform of family values, but kids aren’t necessarily the best thing for this sort of atmosphere. The sounds of children playing would drown out the ethereal renditions of Christmas melodies coming from the small string ensemble playing next to the tree.
He grabs my hand and parades me through the house, introducing me to all of the people who were deemed important enough, or more likely rich enough, to get invited to this year’s soiree. I smile, putting on a well-practiced mask, and play the expected role of demure and polite girlfriend, but every word spoken passes by me unheard. It’s not like any of this will mean anything to me tomorrow. I’ll never have to see any of these people again or spend my night being a version of myself that doesn’t actually exist at a pointless party in order to please donors.
Morgan would hate this.
Ihate this.
The night passes by in a blur of endless small talk and smiling for the cameras who wanted “a real, candid look at the Nicholson family.” Through it all, Tanner never once leaves my side, keeping a hand glued to me like I might disappear if he lets me go—and I just might. At least the food is good, and the champagne flows endlessly from the silver trays.
We near the center of the room again, joining his parents in front of the tree. For the first time tonight, Tanner grabs a flute of champagne for himself.So much for his sobriety. My eyes narrow on the offensive glass. He must pick up on the venom in my gaze because he has the audacity to look sheepish. I open my mouth to ask him what the hell he’s thinking, but my words die on my lips as he grabs a knife from the tray to tap against the glass. The high-pitched tinging rings throughout the room, and the chattering of guests ceases. Even the musicians stop playing to observe. He places the glass back on the tray and clears his throat as he turns back to the crowd.
“I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for coming out to spend the holidays with us.” He flashes a thousand-watt smile, slipping into his politician’s son persona. It’s a seamless transition from the man I grew up with into one I barely recognize. “I know it means a lot to me, and my dad, that you are choosing to spend your evening here; however, that’s not the only reason I gathered your attention.
“I also wanted to thank my wonderful girlfriend for being here today,” he says, turning back to face me. His features soften from the plastic perfection he was projecting only moments before. “She is the glue that holds my very soul together, and this family wouldn’t be the same without her.”
Every eye in the room locks in on the two of us, and I freeze, keeping my fictitious smile in place even while my heart drops out of my stomach. A camera flashes in an all-too-pointed reminder that my every action is being recorded and scrutinized.
“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Tanner squeezes my hand and turns back toward our audience. “For those of you who don’t know, I met Ophelia when we were just seven years old. Believe it or not, she was an absolute menace. She never listened to instructions if she didn’t think they were right, and she was the first to throw a punch if she felt wronged. I was in awe of her but was too scared to approach her. Luckily, I didn’t have to, because when Jack Caldwell was making fun of me on the playground, she marched right up to him and punched him square in the face. I knew then and there that she was the girl I was going to marry someday.”
Oh, fuck no.
Please tell me he isn’t about to do what I think he is. If any god is listening, please strike me down where I stand. Death is better than this.
I’m powerless to do anything but stand and watch in abject horror as he pulls out a velvet box from his jacket and drops to one knee in front of me.
“Ophelia James Clarke, my beautiful and fearless Ophie, there aren’t enough words to describe how much you mean to me. You are my best friend, mysoulmate, the source of joy in my life, and the reason I strive every day to be the best version of myself so I can be the type of man you deserve. I know I’m not always perfect and that, sometimes, I mess things up, but I promise you I will spend the rest of my days trying to make up for my failings. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone, and I can’t go another day without making sure you and the world know it. So will you marry me, O? Will you make me the luckiest man who’s ever lived by giving me the honor of calling you my wife?”
No.
The room around me starts to spin as I grow light-headed. The pressure of dozens of waiting eyes bears down, throwing me even more off balance. I scan the room, looking for any familiar faces to ground me.
No.
Raelyn and Kinsley stand apart from the crowd, staring up at me with hope-filled eyes.
No.
Mrs. Nicholson wipes away a tear, and Mr. Nicholson looks at the two of us with pride shining on his face.
No.
That’s it. There is no one else here for me. No Grandma Anne, or Dad, or any of my friends from school. It’s just me, Tanner’s family, and a slew of local bigwigs who will eat this shit up. That godforsaken camera flashes again, capturing this cursed moment.
No.
By sheer force of will, I move my head and actually look at the ring in the box. The ring itself is beautiful but gaudy beyond all belief. The large center diamond is surrounded by a halo of smaller stones, making the ring bulkier than it has any right to be. I try to imagine it on my finger, but the picture never comes.
