Chapter 54: Promise?

Before Lysander can say anything else to his mother, a man approaches us.

"Madam, I’m sorry to interrupt."

His mother turns toward him.

"What is it?"

He leans closer and whispers something into her ear. Whatever he says immediately changes her expression.

"Oh."

She looks across the room.

"I’ll be there."

The man nods and walks away.

Lysander watches him leave as his mother turns back to us.

"I’m afraid I have to go."

"Of course," I say.

She smiles at me.

"We’ll talk properly later, Nerissa."

I’d like that.

"Sure."

She pats my arm before turning to Lysander.

"And don’t you dare disappear on me again."

Lysander gives her a look.

"I won’t."

She raises an eyebrow.

"You’d better not."

Then she turns and follows the man through the crowd.

I watch her disappear.

Interesting...Very interesting

"What was that about?" I ask.

Lysander looks at me.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

I roll my eyes.

Of course.

Why would he ever tell me anything?

The song finally comes to an end.

Thank God.

My feet are killing me.

Lysander releases me and steps back.

"I’ll be back."

"Where are you going?"

He gives me a look.

"Somewhere."

I stare at him.

"Wow. Very informative."

He ignores me and walks away.

I don’t bother watching him go. Instead, I turn and head straight back toward the bar.

Isabella is exactly where I left her, sitting comfortably with her drink in one hand.

She looks up when I approach

"I see you’ve met my mother."

I drop into the seat beside her.

"Yeahh."

I pick up my abandoned drink.

"She seems nice."

Isabella smiles.

"Don’t take that at face value."

I pause as she leans closer.

"She is a very cunning old woman."

I burst out laughing.

"Seriously?"

"Very seriously."

She takes a sip.

"My mother can smile at you while mentally calculating how to destroy your entire bloodline."

I stare at her.

"That’s terrifying."

"She’ll like you, though."

"That’s supposed to make me feel better?"

"It should....she hardly likes anyone, I don’t even think she likes me her own daughter."

I laugh again.

Isabella looks at my now empty glass.

"More drinks?"

"Yes, please."

She pushes another glass toward me and I reach for it gratefully.

"Thank you."

"For the record," she says, "you survived the bitch Eva."

I groan.

"Don’t remind me."

"She doesn’t like you."

"I gathered that much."

"And you don’t like her."

"I didn’t say that."

Isabella gives me a look.

I take a drink.

"Fine. I don’t like her."

"Thought so."

We sit there for a while, talking about absolutely nothing important.

And somehow, it’s nice.

We talk about Spain, about the ridiculous number of people at the event, about the food, about how uncomfortable expensive shoes are.

Isabella tells me embarrassing stories about Lysander when he was younger.

Apparently, he once locked himself in his room for an entire day because their mother confiscated his motorcycle, crying until there was tears and snot all over his face.

I nearly choke on my drink.

"Lysander?"

"Yep."

"I don’t believe you."

"You should."

"That’s hilarious."

"He was fifteen."

I laugh.

"I wish I’d seen it."

"You would have loved it."

"I would have."

After some time I actually forget where I am.

I forget the marriage and the reasons I’m here.

I’m just sitting at a bar with a girl I’ve known for barely an hour, laughing over stupid stories about her brother.

It feels normal.

Almost too normal.

Then a familiar voice interrupts us.

"It’s time to go."

I look up.

Lysander.

Already standing there with his hands in his pockets.

I glance at Isabella and she makes a face.

"Already?"

"Unfortunately."

I sigh.

I don’t know why I’m suddenly disappointed I’m leaving...given I didn’t want to be here in the first place but I’d actually been having fun.

I stand and smooth down my dress.

Isabella stands too.

"It was really nice meeting you."

"Same."

She opens her arms and I hesitate for half a second before stepping forward.

We hug.

"Come visit me, sometime?." she says.

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She pulls back.

"And next time, we’ll drink somewhere without all these boring people."

I grin.

"Deal."

I turn toward Lysander. He’s watching us with an unreadable expression.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Of course.

I roll my eyes and walk past him.

We head toward the exit together. Thankfully, there aren’t nearly as many cameras outside as there were when we arrived.

A few photographers still linger near the entrance, but nothing compared to earlier.

Thank God.

I don’t think my feet could survive another red carpet walk.

As we step outside, I instinctively touch my lips. My fingers come away with a faint smear of lipstick.

Great.

I knew it.

I quickly rub at my mouth, hoping I haven’t been walking around all night looking ridiculous with a smudged lip.

Lysander notices.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing my lipstick."

His eyes linger on my mouth for a second then he looks away.

"It looks fine."

I narrow my eyes.

"That’s not reassuring coming from you."

"I didn’t think it was supposed to be."

I scoff.

We walk down the flight of stairs, when we get to our car. He collects the key from the valet, tips him heavily. Opens the car door for and I climb inside.

And as he gets in beside me, I can’t help thinking about the night. About meeting his family, sure I’ve met some before, like his dick of a brother....but he doesn’t count. It’s clear and apparent we both don’t like each other.

His mother and Isabella though? Those ones I like.

The strange way everyone seems to know something about my husband that I don’t and somehow, the thing bothering me most isn’t any of them.

It’s the fact that for a few hours tonight...i actually had fun.

With his family.

And I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing, I’m supposed to hate them and they are supposed to hate me.

I can deal with hostility....i know how to manage that. I don’t know how to handle people being nice to me.

This is all just shit.