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“I do want to go with you,” he confesses in a whisper so low I can barely hear it even with my face pressed to his head.
I lift my eyes to see he’s looking down at the carpet.
“I know you do, Sunny.”
“I’m just nervous.”
I hum thoughtfully, kiss his neck, and debate on how to approach this. I could tell him everything I want to do to him when we get back, but I don’t think that would actually help when the time comes for us to step out of the car and onto a red carpet.
Practical advice it is.
I grab his shoulders and spin him around once more, keeping my hands there and crouching down so he’ll meet my eyes.
“Okay, this is going to sound mean, but I promise it isn’t, okay?”
His frown turns confused. That’s progress.
“Okay?” he says like a question.
“No one at this thing is going to be thinking about you as much as you think they are.”
It takes a second, but the same words Liv once said to me seem to be the right ones—his eyes clear of worries, sharpen with attention.
“Everyone’s too busy thinking about what they’re wearing or who they’re going to be seen talking to, or who they’ll tell how much money they’re donating. If someone stares at you, then you relax your face so much that you look mean as fuck, and I promise no one is going to come near you.”
“Tucker!” he snaps, clearly unhappy with this imagined scenario where he’s rude.
“What? I promise it works every single time. Just give them your best resting bitch face and everyone will back off. They’re used to people pretending they’re happy. No one’s ready for a blank face.”
He hums this time—and I’m back on track, baby.
“C’mon, the sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll get back.”
“That’s factually incorrect,” he says, so serious and earnest that I can’t hold back my laugh.
It’s not like I do it that often anymore, not with Sunny.
The gala for the Ellsworth Foundation is like any other—stuffy and full of unnecessary shit. Fact is, this is how they get funding for all the STEM programs they sponsor for teenagers in at-risk communities all over the country.
I know Eli loves the charity, that they do a lot of great work and help millions of kids.
I wish my presence and that of any other influential person here wasn’t necessary to keep it going year round, but it is. Making a big splash about everyone’s dresses and plastering pictures all over the internet gets people talking.
It doesn’t stop me from wishing it didn’t have to be this way.
Sunny and I posed for less than thirty seconds on the red carpet—something I warned the PR employee managing that circus and all the paparazzi about.
The speeches before dinner are great, and not that long, but I’m surprised when I find our table and see we’re seated not only with Eli and Lex, but also with Beatrice and Iris.
That’s . . . blatant, and borderline suicidal, but no one looks worried that someone will question why we might look so familiar with each other.
I introduce Sunny to the girls, and they set him at ease faster than I thought possible—I think he maybe doesn’t know who they are, or more like who their families are.
I swear to myself I’ll keep it that way for as long as possible.
It’s after dinner when things go sideways.
Zack appears behind Iris, and offers her a hand.
