Page 18 of The Opposite of Romance
My makeup looks pretty good, especially considering I’ve followed a YouTube tutorial to do it and had to improvise with a few of the items that I didn’t have. I’ve had my hair done professionally, thank God, because I’m a lost cause when it comes to it. It’s up in a messy but fancy updo with a few waves framing my face.
It used to be my go-to hairstyle for fancy events. A memory of the last time I wore it hits me like a ton of bricks. I was wearing a short navy-blue number and felt pretty good about myself. I put on my highest heels and walked out of the closet to the bedroom where David was sitting on the bed. It was practically a catwalk, and I even did the ta-da motion with my hands. He was looking at his phone. I cleared my throat and told him I’m ready to go, hoping he will look up and notice me.
He glanced up before putting his phone in his pocket and saying, “Good. We can go now.”
I stood there for five full minutes, my cheeks burning and my heart heavy. Moisture threatened to form in the corners of my eyes, but I pushed it back. So what if he hadn’t noticed me? Confidence comes from within, right? I really shouldn’t be relying on his compliments to feel good about myself. So I took a few deep breaths to calm myself and got downstairs.
It took me years to recognize the moment for what it was. The beginning to an end.
Weight settles in my stomach remembering the scene before I’m saved by the bell. Grabbing my pashmina, I make my way downstairs, still frazzled. I find my purse in the living room where my eyes meet Logan’s through the wall of windows.
He asked me yesterday if it would be ok for him to come today. I said yes, of course, not refusing the poor man’s attempts to finish my project faster. He also told me, before I started getting ready, that he’s finishing up and will be out of my hair soon.
A shiver runs through me as his gaze travels my form. He’s not leering, no, it’s more like he’s shocked, dumbfounded, unable to look away. Sandy pushes the doorbell button two more times, so I give Logan a small wave and walk away.
“Fuck, who is this hot girl here? Better call the press and tell them the sexiest woman alive is hiding in Ocean’s Harbor.” Sandy fans herself while showering me with compliments, but I barelynotice. My skin is covered in goosebumps from that meaningless encounter through the glass.
“Do I look that bad?” Sandy asks, puzzled by my silence.
“Fuck no, Dee. You look incredible.” And she does. Her cleavage is fuller than ever, and the deep V of her burgundy dress certainly doesn’t hide it. She also decided to rock her post-partum belly in a tight-fitting dress, and I couldn’t be prouder.
“I got us a car,” she singsongs.
It’s not a town car, it’s an Uber. But it’s black and sleek and I love her for it.
“You’re the best.” I grab her hand as we enter the car.
“Don’t I know it. How are the kids?”
“They’re good. David took them to an arcade today, so Asher was out of his mind, of course.”
“That little boy is all me,” she notes.
“That he is.” Asher’s personality is very similar to Sandy’s. Fearless and always up for new adventures. Liv is more like me, cautious, kind of dark, but full of joy somewhere deep, deep inside.
“So, you’re ready for tonight? I’ve got my list right here, of course.” She pats her black clutch, and I stifle a laugh. That piece of paper takes up half of the miniature bag she’s sporting.
“I’m going to need a few drinks first.”
“Don’t worry, I’m on it.”
And she is. She grabs us champagne glasses 0.3 seconds after we enter the venue. The decorations are, of course, silver—giant chandeliers, tall silver vases filled with red roses and silver napkin holders.
“You’re going to look bomb in the photos, sis.”
Yup, I could probably pose anywhere in this room and look perfectly in sync with the background. A chuckle escapes me.
We mingle around the room, shaking hands with various industry professionals—other authors, publishers, and editors. Everyone is dressed to the nines, looking their best. Warm eyes wave at me from another side of the room and walk toward us.
“So good to see you, Sadie. You’re looking amazing.” Kate pulls me into a tight hug. She’s also an author, and we did quite a few romance book fairs together.
“You, too, Kate.” I smile back.
She notices someone else and heads toward them, when another figure replaces her spot.
“I heard about the divorce.” The voice is fake empathy at its finest. It’s sappy and sad, and I don’t believe it for a second. The face isn’t much more believable, either. Thin, pursed lips underneath thinning slicked back hair. I wonder if he even needed product for it, with how much oil his hair produces.
“Todd,” I grit out. “Lovely to see you out of your cave.”
