Page 87 of Wallflower
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re kind for saying so, but it’s been a long time since I looked good in a penguin suit.”
“Not true,” I insist. “You wear it very well.”
An awkward silence falls. The muscles in Chord’s jaw start firing and his thumb rubs anxious circles over the back of my hand, but it takes me a moment to work out what’s going on. Chord wants to ask Coach why Spencer Cook is here, but he won’t do it after promising that tonight is all about me.
I hate to see him upset, and I’m curious about the answer, too, so I gently extract my hand from Chord’s and take a small step sideways. “I think it’s time for me to freshen up, so if you’ll excuse me?”
“I’ll walk with you,” Chord offers, but I set a hand on his arm.
“You stay and chat. I won’t be long.”
My relative comfort in tonight’s spotlight aside, I still skirt the edge of the room to get to the bathroom on the other side, then linger longer than necessary to give Chord plenty of time to discuss his concerns with his coach. I use the facilities, then reapply my lipstick, smooth my hair, and check over my dress.
I step out of the bathroom and into the adjoining lounge, styled as a little alcove with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and deep armchairs where guests can make a call or catch their breath.
I’m all alone for the first time since I stepped into my dress, so I risk a little spin to make the skirt fan out. This dress was designed to twirl, and I grin when I see the pretty way the teal fabric flares and falls in a mirror, then clutch the back of the nearest armchair when my head spins. After three glasses of wine in barely an hour, it might be a good idea to sit.
Before I get the chance, a pointed cough grabs my attention, and I jerk my head toward the door. My heart flies when I see Emma, wrapped up in her red dress with a thigh-high split showing off her long legs.
I stand as straight as I can and clutch my purse to my chest like it’s some kind of shield. “Hello.”
“Mm.” Her eyes sweep down my dress and up again. “You’re here with Chord?”
A bitter feeling of not-good-enough aches in my throat. “I am.”
“Good for you. He’s not one for big events, you know.”
I curl my fingertips against my little clutch and concentrate on the texture of the fabric to calm me. “I know.”
“He’ll want to leave soon if he isn’t gone already.”
I know she’s trying to upset me, and I know Chord would never leave me here alone, but the mean girl behavior makes it hard to think, and all I can do is blink at her.
She sashays over, stops a foot away, and raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me. I’d like to use the mirror and you’re blocking it.”
I tighten my grip on my purse.Don’t apologize. Don’t apologize. Don’t give this woman the satisfaction.
But my legs won’t move. We’re locked in an uncomfortable stare. It’s too quiet for too long, and I’ve had enough wine that the words slip out. “I’m sorry.”
She gives me a tight smile as I step aside, then passes me and leans in to check her makeup in the mirror.
Her eyes flicker my way, and I realize I’m staring at her. I need to leave, so I turn toward the door, but she speaks again.
“Nice dress.” I glance down at it as if I don’t know what she’s talking about, and she adds, “Off the rack?”
My cheeks burn. “No. It’s—”
“I only wear runway to these things.” She smooths a hand over one hip, still absorbed in her reflection. “Chord likes it that way. He has good taste, you know? Never settles for anything less than the best—or never settles for long anyway.”
Her mouth twitches to make her inference that I’m not the best clear, and my face flames hotter. Is it possible I’ve already forgotten how awful people can be outside of Silver Leaf and Aster Springs? I want to be away from here, curled up in Chord’sarms and Chord’s bed, pretending that the world outside the two of us doesn’t exist.
I take another step away from Emma.
“I’msoglad Spencer and I were able to be here tonight. It’s for his father, of course. You know he was a San Francisco Fury legend, don’t you? Your marketing team practicallybeggedus to be here.” Her green eyes glint in the overhead lighting as she looks at me in the mirror. “Spencer is the best and most sought-after player in the NHL right now. Much stronger and more competitive than Chord, who’s barely able to earn his keep. From what I’ve been told, the Fury bosses think Spence would make anexcellentaddition to the team.”
My chin jerks up, and when my eyes widen with indignation, her mouth grows smug.
Outrage pulses through me. “That’s a lie.”
