I was upstairs, getting ready for my father’s annual Christmas party, when Aaron appeared in the bathroom mirror.
“Are you about ready to go?”
Sometimes, I swore that Aaron and I could have been twins. He was much taller than me, but he had the same natural blond hair and matching dark blue eyes. He’d graduated from Princeton the year before I’d attended, and he was now working in business in Boston, like our father.
I swished the mascara across my lashes one more time, and then I put the tube away. “Sure.”
“Have you been okay?” he asked, crossing his arms over the chest of his designer tuxedo.
“Fine.”
“Aribel, I know you’re not fine.”
I ran my hands down the front of the black lace dress my mother had picked out for me when we’d gone shopping. It had an open V-cut with thick straps falling over my shoulders, a tiny empire waist, and an A-line skirt that fell to my knees. Grant’s dog tags had been replaced with a simple gold chain with a little bow pendant. My parents had gotten it from Tiffany’s for me for Christmas. It was simple yet extravagant.
I hated taking off Grant’s dog tags almost as much as I hated wearing them. They were my reminder as much as his text messages were. I desperately wanted to pick up the phone and make it all right, but something had kept me from doing it. I missed him terribly, and honestly, I couldn’t believe some of the things we’d said to each other, but I wanted to trust Cheyenne’s advice. I did need time away from him to get my head on straight again.
“Are you daydreaming?” Aaron asked, waving his hand in front of my face.
“No,” I said immediately. “What were you saying?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are lovesick.”
The color drained out of my face, and I was thankful for the rouge I’d just applied to my cheeks. “I’m just not feeling well.” I took a step around him. I found a pair of black heels and slipped them on.
“Aribel,” Aaron said softly, following me into the room. “Did something happen at school? Is that why you came home early?”
Oh, how I wanted to confide in my brother, but I knew exactly what he would think about Grant. Aaron would assume what I’d assumed when I first met Grant. But there was so much more to Grant than met the eye. I’d said that he hadn’t changed, that he wasn’t ambitious…and more terrible things, but none of them were true. His drive, and ambition just didn’t fit the mold I’d been carefully cut from. That didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m your brother. You can trust me.”
I sighed and relented. “I was dating someone. We got into a big fight when school ended. I’m just trying not to think about it.”
“Well, as your brother, I can say that no guy is ever going to be good enough for you.”
I cringed at his words.
“And if you’re already fighting, then it’s probably only going to get worse. But if you decide to see this guy, tell him your older brother will beat his ass if he hurts you again,” Aaron said.
The thought of Aaron trying to beat up Grant was highly amusing, and I cracked a smile for the first time in what felt like forever.
“That’s better. Come on, we have to get to the hotel. You’ll get to meet Sarah.”
In the limousine, my parents chatted aimlessly on the way to the Christmas party, and Aaron had his arm around his new girlfriend, Sarah. I gazed out the back window and prayed for the night to end quickly. We pulled up in front of the hotel and were escorted to the ballroom.
My mother took me aside at the entrance. “Aribel, please do try to smile while you’re here tonight,” she said with a wary look in her eye. “I’ve noticed that you seem sullen, but maybe the festivities will do you some good.”
I managed a polite smile and nodded. “Of course.”
“Also,” she said, gesturing for me to follow her, “we have invited a delightful young man who works for your father.”
I groaned. “Please don’t do this.”
“Just meet him!” she insisted. “His name is Henry. His parents are from the area. He graduated from Harvard three years ago, and he is already making his way seamlessly up the company.”
Twenty-five. My mother was pitching me to a guy who was six years my senior and listing off his good qualities, like he was antique furniture being auctioned off to the highest bidder.
“I’m not interested.”
My mother gave me a stern look. “It’s good and well that you’ve been focused on your schoolwork, but it doesn’t hurt to look around. You never know. You might like him.”
Grant. I liked Grant. No do-gooder Harvard grad from high-society was going to compare to Grant. I almost couldn’t believe those thoughts had just crossed my mind. Hadn’t I thought the same as my mother only four months earlier?
“Henry!” my mother said, fluttering her fingers.
Oh God, she had just been walking me right to him.
“Diana, so good to see you,” Henry said. His eyes swept past my mother and landed on me. “And you must be Aribel. I’m Henry Arbor.”
I handed him my hand to shake, but he brought it to his lips. His blue eyes stared straight through me. I managed not to squirm uncomfortably, but I quickly retrieved my hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
I got my first real glance at Henry, and he was everything I’d suspected—tall, blond, blue-eyed with a suit to rival my brother’s, and a smile that could charm a snake.
My mother smiled brightly at our introduction and then went back to find my father in the crowd. I avoided Henry’s curious glances and scurried after her. I spent the remainder of the evening tucked into a corner of the room, wasting time on my cell phone. A text pinged on the screen from Grant, and my heart raced.
Merry Christmas, Princess. Hope you get everything you want. Unless you manage to get a ticket into Jersey, I’m afraid I’ll be without the only thing I want. Stay warm, and come back soon. I miss you.
Tears swam in my eyes. Damn him! How did he bring out this much emotion in me from a simple text message? Ugh! I felt positively dreadful. There was no other way to put it. I missed him, and I wanted to make things right. I’d have to find a way to talk to him.
“Are you all right?” Henry asked, materializing out of thin air.
“Oh!” I blinked the tears away. “Sorry. I’m fine.”