Page 72 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
I set aside a plain black T-shirt and jeans for the trip back to Dallas, and when I slip into the bathroom to shed my evening gown and get dressed, I hear the door to our room click firmly shut.
And then nothing. Just a deafening quiet.
Sure enough, when I exit the bathroom, my twin is gone. Ginny is actually going through with it. She’s going to climb up on that stage and pretend she’s been the one competing in the pageant all along.
I shake my head. Why am I so surprised? She’s been primping all morning. Clearly she’s intent on winning the crown.
I guess I thought that our conversation might have made her realize how foolish our charade has been. Granted, we veered way off topic when I lobbed the conversational hand grenade of Adam into the mix. But couldn’t she see that what we’ve done is wrong? I don’t deserve to walk away from this week with a glittering tiara on my head, but neither does she.
I sit for a minute, trying to figure out my next move. I know what it is, though. Deep down, I’ve known all along.
I’ve got to find Gray.
Leaving the room is risky, but I don’t have a choice. I stick to the stairwell until I reach the first floor. Then I creep toward the bustling hallway that leads toward the ballroom.
It’s a hive of activity. I’ve lost all track of time, and apparently, the onstage-question competition is due to start any minute. I have to get out of here before someone spots me. I’ll just have to talk to Gray later.
But when I turn to go, I see him. He’s at the far end of the hallway, opposite me. And he’s not alone.
He’s talking to my sister.
All the breath leaves my body in a single, nauseating whoosh. I can’t see the two of them together. Not now. Not when the memory of my night with Gray is still wrapped around my heart like its own beauty queen sash. And not when I’ve just had to confront all of the pain of Adam’s betrayal with such brutal, aching honesty.
Ginny still has no idea that Gray is anyone other than a member of the judging panel. But Gray will take one look at her and think she’s me.
He won’t do anything outwardly demonstrative, like kiss her. He won’t even touch her. But he’ll look at her the same way he looked at me last night when I first walked onto the dock. That look means too much to me to watch him bestow it on my sister. I know it’s a far different thing than what Adam did to me. I shouldn’t even compare the two.
But it aches in the same brutal way.
So I turn around and flee.
I don’t think about where I’m going or who might see me. I just want to put as much distance between myself and the Gray/Ginny encounter as I possibly can.
My inattentiveness comes back to bite me in the end, because just as I round the corner of the hotel’s palatial lobby, I run smack into my parents.
“Whoa there,” my dad says as he catches me by the shoulders. “Where’s the fire, Charlotte?”
I stare at him for a beat, wondering if he would have any idea who I am if I wasn’t dressed in my regular clothes, which I’ve started to think of as “the Charlotte costume.” Or more precisely, the kind of thing someone wears when they don’t care very much about personal appearance.
“Hi,” I say stiffly.
He wraps me into a big bear hug, and I feel my resentment melt away. I can’t be mad at my father. He loves me, and I love him right back. Other than Ginny, he’s been the most constant presence in my life. Ineedhim.
Especially now.
I cling to him like a small child and close my eyes, wishing with all my might that there was something he could say or do to make it all better. But he can’t tuck me into the corner of his office anymore with a book to take away my troubles. I’m a grown up, and this is an adult-size mess I’ve made. For once in my life, a book can’t fix things.
“Hey, what is it?” He holds me at arm’s length and studies me, probably thinking I’ve had some sort of falling out with my “secret boyfriend.”
Nope. Not yet, anyway.
“Nothing.” I paste on a smile.
“Good.” He nods. “Because we just got word that the pageant has opened up today’s prelim to family members. We’re on our way to go watch your sister compete.”
I shake my head. “But the prelims are supposed to be private. Are you sure?”
Susan nods. “Absolutely. It’s all over the Miss American Treasure Facebook page. A small audience will give the girls more practice for when they have to face the onstage question during the finals. They’re expecting a sold-out crowd, not to mention all the people who will be watching at home on television.”
