Runaway Girl (Girl 2) - Page 106

Because I can.

Mostly, however, because Charleston is my home and I’m not going anywhere. If Beauty Queens Unlimited, the pageant coaching business I’ve spent weeks planning and organizing is going to be a success, this town needs to know I have backbone and determination. Maybe I need to continually remind myself of it, too, until I never waver in that belief again.

I take a deep breath and push away from the sink, mentally preparing to show my face in the ballroom for the first time. To see my parents for the first time since leaving home for good. I don’t fault myself for thinking of Jason, picturing how he would give that arrogant stare down at anyone who got in his way. That image causes my chest to pull painfully as I stride through the double doors and into the crowd, heads swiveling in my direction. I lift my chin and let them look. That’s right. I’m not going anywhere. Get used to seeing me. Having Jason in mind is a blessing and a curse in this moment, because it hurts, but nothing thrown my way tonight can be worse than losing him.

The world seems to pulse around me as my mother and I make eye contact. She stands in a circle of friends near an ice sculpture, her mouth hanging open where she left it mid-sentence. I school my features and meet her leaden stare without flinching. I’m grateful for the tick of surprise, maybe even respect, she affords me before turning her back. Everyone witnesses the gesture and knows what it means. I do, too. With a nod, I let the last remaining veil of my old life whisper off my skin and pool on the floor.

A waiter passes and I take the offered flute of champagne, pausing in the middle of my first sip when I notice someone on the opposite side of the room. Someone that is both familiar and unknown to me at the same time. Butterflies unleash in my stomach as Addison’s gaze lifts to mine and stays there. She wets her lips…nervously? No, I can’t possibly make her nervous. She’s at the gala of a woman who hates the very existence of her. Maybe that’s why she’s here. To face it head on, same as me. That possibility and yes, my own courage, pushes me closer.

“Hello,” I begin, splashing a little bit of champagne onto my knuckles when I gesture too broadly. “So…it’s an interesting few months we’ve had, right?”

A surprised laugh puffs out of her. “Oh God. Please don’t make me like you.”

“It’s not a requirement. I promise.” I subdue my smile, but it’s not easy. “Is everyone staring at us?”

Addison flicks a look over my shoulder and sighs. “Yeah.” She leans in. “Fuck ’em.”

We share a slow smile. It’s the first time that I notice a resemblance between us, courtesy of us having the same father. Subtle. Just a stubborn chin. But she notices it, too, and we both take long swigs of our drinks. The polite socialite in me wants to change the subject to something more pleasant, but this new Naomi? She doesn’t let opportunities pass. “I’m not going to make a big emotional scene or anything, Addison. Not when we’re standing here like two bugs under a microscope,” I say for her ears alone. “I do have a couple of things to say, though, and I hope you’ll listen and know I mean every word.”

After a moment, she nods.

I command my racing pulse to slow down, but it only seems to speed up. “We might not know each other, but you are my sister. You’re family. And I just wanted you to know I acknowledge you and…” I shake my head. “More than that, I admire you. I don’t know if you want this on your head or not, but you gave me the bravery to leave the church. One look through the window. I could tell you’d been through a trial and I wanted…one ounce of the courage you showed walking up those steps. I wanted to go out and earn it.”

It takes her a long time to respond. “It appears you did,” she says on a shaky exhale. “Thank you. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that.”

Elijah approaches, dapper in a tuxedo, and slides an arm around Addison’s back, natural as breathing. Whispers whip around us like industrial fans. How it must look to everyone—the love triangle of the decade—when in reality, it’s simply a man, the woman he loves, and another woman who unwittingly played a role in uniting them. Seeing them together inspires a yearning in me so deep for Jason, I almost can’t speak. “Good evening, Mr. Mayor.”

“Naomi. It’s a pleasure.” He trades a look with Addison, and whatever passes between them brings a rush of warmth to his eyes. Gratitude, I see, as he turns toward me. “Rumor has it you’ve started coaching pageant contestants full time. You’ll be sure to let us know how we can help you along.”

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