Inconceivable! (26 page)

I turned to John. “Where’s everyone going?”

“To the grand ballroom. The after-party is just as amazing as the meal.”

We lingered in the Regents Room, accepting congratulations as some of the guests formed an impromptu receiving line. Astrid slipped behind us and gave us cups of coffee, made slightly sweet by the whipped cream dollop floating on top. What I really needed was an IV with caffeine drip. Stat.

We headed to the hallway, the promise of karaoke luring us toward the ballroom.

“Hey. I need to stop in the restroom. You go ahead. I’ll meet you in there.” I let John’s hand slip from mine.

“I’ll wait for you.”

“No. Go. People want to talk to you, Mr. Prince-man.”

“And you. You’re like a breath of spring at our Winter’s Feast.”
Melt.

He left and I slipped into the bathroom. As soon as I sat down in the first stall, the door to the hallway banged open.

“Adela! I’m sorry, okay? I’m such an ass.”

I sat motionless on the toilet as complete silence followed Henri’s outburst. I saw his black shiny shoes outside the stall.

“Umm, it’s Hatty.”

Henri exhaled loudly and banged the stall door. I jumped up at the sudden noise and used the opportunity to get my clothes back in place. I pushed the door open and we were almost nose to nose. I gently put my fingertips on his chest and pushed him away.

“Sit,” I commanded.

“Fine.” He spoke heavily, flopping into a chair by the full-length mirror near the sinks.

I washed my hands and walked over to my soon-to-be brother-in-law. “What’s up, Buttercup?”

“It’s not funny. This is serious.”

“Okay, but I don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”

He looked miserable. The reddish glow of his cheeks revealed he had a first class ticket to Hangover-ville.

“Adela’s mad. She thinks I’m too flirty.”

“Well, are you?”

“No. Not intentionally.”

I sat on the arm of the chair and reached around his slumped shoulders to give him a squeeze.

“Look. Her worst fear is probably that she’ll get snookered into thinking she’s the one you love, only to find out through the tabloids you’ve dumped her for another woman. Not that you’d ever do that.
Right
?”

“Give me more credit than that.”

“I do. But she may feel a tad insecure. And seeing gorgeous women hanging all over you pushed her over the edge. You need to go find her and make it better.”

“I think I love her.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Then let’s go look for her.”

As he stood, he took a piece of chewed gum out of his mouth. He grabbed my right hand and placed the wad in my palm. “You’re my sister now.”

“So, this is what it’s like to have a little brother?”

“Pretty much.”

We both laughed and I put the gum in my mouth.

Sister
. It was the first time anyone had used that word in reference to me, the chronic only child.

Henri leaned against my side and slung his arm around my waist as I guided him into the hallway.

When we found Adela, she was leaning against the handrail of the grand staircase. Her long, fitted red dress was sleeveless, exposing strong, shapely arms folded across her body. I knew immediately she wouldn’t take any crap from him.

I whispered to Henri, “Don’t screw this up. Make it right.”

He nodded and went to her.

pening the doors to the ballroom, a whole new feast sprawled before me. There were jugglers, a guy on a unicycle, and a clown. A scantily clad woman on a trapeze swung above the dancing, thrashing crowd. A waiter stopped in front of us with tiny glasses.

“Absinthe?” the waiter asked.

John politely declined, but I grabbed a glass and threw it back in a single swig. The taste of licorice with a bitter edge coated my mouth. Only moments later, the strong alcohol made my head swim.

“Every hour, a shower of confetti rains on the crowd,” John said, pointing to the ceiling. “It’s like celebrating New Year’s Eve over and over. There’s a countdown one minute before.”

“Should I expect an acid-dropping midget in a bowler hat to ask me to dance? This looks like a scene from a Baz Luhrmann film.”

“Baz!” John raised his hand and waved. A dashing man with silver hair swirled over to us with a blonde woman in his arms.

“Baz, this is my fiancé Hatty. She knows your work quite well.”

My eyes were wide as Baz kissed me on each cheek. “Congratulations, you two! It’s so nice to meet you, Hatty. This is my wife, Catherine Martin.”

“You’re a costume designer, and you guys worked together on The Great Gatsby, right? We loved that movie!”
I’m a total fangirl.

“Thanks, Hatty. Your gown is exquisite, by the way.” Those words coming from Catherine Martin nearly knocked me over.

“Hatty, it’s nice to meet you,” Baz said. “I’ll let you two make your way through the crowd. If you’re feeling adventurous, stop at the water tank at the far end. You put in your legs and tiny piranhas eat away the dead skin. It’s popular in Thailand at the spas. Your grandmother told me about it. Very invigorating!” And with that, the Lurhmanns moved on.

I couldn’t see the tank (and there was no way I was going to feed my flesh to piranhas), but at the far end, I spotted the karaoke stage.

“You don’t really think you can outdo me at karaoke, do you? Maybe we should sing a duet,” I offered.

“You’re on your own, my dear. I always sing solo.”

“Well, aren’t you a cocky so-and-so? Don’t you know I’ve spent the last three and a half years singing my heart out in karaoke bars throughout your fair kingdom?”

“Before we go mic-to-mic, let’s get a drink. What do you want?”

“Just water. I don’t want to impair my performance with more booze or caffeine.”

As John walked away, I set my sights on the five cartoon princesses standing together looking ridiculously over-the-top in nine inch heels and slinky dresses. They also wore scowls.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you guys again. Isn’t this amazing?”
Cause, ya know, I’m like the belle of the ball, tonight.

One of the blondes looked at me with an expression that screamed,
You’ve got to be kidding me
. Instead, she said, “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you! I’m so happy we got to share the news with everyone tonight.”

But none of the princesses smiled back at me.

The redhead spoke up. “We’re sure you’ll eventually become the kind of girl who fits with John and his family.”

The backhanded compliment took my breath away and released a flood of self-doubt.

Before I could respond, another woman spoke up. “Yes, if you need any advice on how to blend in, we’d be happy to help you. It’s clear you’re out of your league. I’m sure this all seems so… foreign to you.” The inflection of her voice made the word “foreign” an insult, a slap across the face.

“What do you mean?” I spat back at her.

“You’re too unrefined, and all that has to change. No more karaoke in pubs, dancing barefoot, or speaking your mind so freely. Good luck with all that.” The red-head laughed lightly as if she’d just made a joke.

Plato caught my eye and waved me over.
Thank goodness.

“Excuse me.” I turned my back on the women and left, wanting to punch someone.

I nearly ran to Plato. He grabbed my arms and furrowed his brow. “Hatty, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

I couldn’t repeat what they’d said without having a complete breakdown or knocking someone out. I think part of me felt like they were right―I didn’t fit in and I wasn’t refined. I belonged outside the walls with the rest of the nosy journalists who just wanted to get their story and go home.

“Hatty. You look pissed. Did those witches say something to you?” Plato put his hands on my shoulders and stared at me. I nodded, still wrestling the knot in my throat as the anger simmered inside me.

“C’mon. I have an idea.” Plato led me the length of the ballroom to the stage. The DJ was bopping along to the dub-step blaring through the single headphone he held against his ear.

“Hi! We’re ready for karaoke. Do you have “Raise Your Glass” by Pink?” Plato grabbed my hand and squeezed it. On this karaoke stage, he’d definitely have my back.

The DJ nodded and began swiping and tapping on the tablet he had plugged into the sound system. “When this number ends, okay, mate?” Like the Luhrmanns and Lucas, the DJ sounded like an Australian import.

We went on stage and stood behind the two microphones. I scanned the room for John, but didn’t see him anywhere. People noticed us standing there, and turned to see what we were about to do.

When the song ended, the DJ spoke into his mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, the next princess of Toulene.”
Hey, that’s Duchess, buddy.

The crowd stood still and every eye was on us. I took a deep breath and smiled, finally seeing John holding two glasses back by the entrance. Even this far away, his broad grin gleamed in the blue-white light.

Watch your crazy American fiancé show you how it’s done.

The song began and Plato grabbed his mic. This number was our favorite. It’s the one we always sang when we did karaoke together.

People smiled appreciatively as Plato rocked through the first verse. Sam came to the front of the stage with Tilda and Sara. They grooved and danced in their free-spirited way.

We ripped into the chorus, and the cartoon princesses stood in a hideous huddle sneering at us. My only thought when it was my turn to sing a verse?
In your face, bitches.
I grabbed the mic from the stand and yanked it to my lips. I spat the words, sending them like darts toward their frozen frowns. They were the only people in the entire place who weren’t jumping, dancing, or lifting their drinks as the song gained momentum.

More people joined the dancing when we cranked out the second chorus. Wine sloshed out of glasses as they bounced up and down singing with us. As we neared the end, the entire place exploded in a riot as people sang with us and kept dancing. Baz dipped his wife; they were wrapped up in their own little world. Mom and Dad stood just off the dance floor smiling at me, probably happy and relieved that I was comfortable enough in this setting to let loose.

When the song ended, people screamed, clinked glasses, and rushed the stage. Plato raised a shot glass, handed me one, and we clinked them together. I took a healthy sip, but didn’t suck down all of the liquid; I was still a bit unsteady from the absinthe. I handed the glass back to Plato and floated to the edge of the stage. Gerhard was there in an instant, swooping me off the platform before I could object.

He cradled me in his arms. “Hatty, never let them change you.” Gerhard lowered my feet to the floor.

John immediately took my hand.

“Sorry,” I yelled over the roar of the crowd. “We were probably a little over the top.”

“You were spectacular. I’m going to whisk you away before you have to do an encore.” John led me toward a side door.

In the hallway, we were alone. John’s strong hands formed a vise on my hips, roughly pulling my body into his while pushing me toward the wall.

“I love how you look and feel in this dress.” He slid his hands over the slick fabric to my backside, squeezing me while he kissed my neck. “Claire had nothing for me to grab back there.”