Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,76
known since I was a kid. He’d also invited some of our neighbors here in the building—people either he or Everly had made friends with. They were so much more sociable than I was. Before they’d moved in, I hadn’t known any of my neighbors.
I handed Everly her sidecar and took a sip of my old fashioned. The bartender was good. Everly glanced toward the door and smiled. “My sisters are here.”
Dad was draping feather boas—a red one and a blue; apparently he had multiple colors—around the necks of two women. One had long wavy hair and wore a bright red dress. The other had to be Everly’s sister. There was a strong family resemblance, although this woman’s hair was darker and cut shorter.
Everly waved them over, then hugged them both. “I’m so glad you came. Shepherd, this is my sister, Annie, and her wife Miranda.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shook hands with both of them, then slipped my hand around Everly’s waist to draw her closer.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Annie said. Her eyes flicked back and forth between me and Everly a few times.
Ethan approached with a smile. I could see Grant from the corner of my eye, still chatting—laughing, to be specific—with Everly’s friends.
“Nice party, Shep.” He patted my shoulder.
“Dad outdid himself.”
“He always does.”
I introduced Ethan to Annie and Miranda. After some small talk, Ethan realized he and Grant lived just a few streets away from Everly’s sister, on Queen Anne. When Annie and Miranda mentioned they’d remodeled their house, the three of them launched into an animated conversation about home renovations.
Everly and I wandered around for a while, sipping our drinks and chatting with guests. Dad had either run out of boas, or had decided all the guests were here, because I saw him dancing with Svetlana in front of the stage.
I wondered why she was still pretending to date my father. It had been over two months. Whether or not she believed Everly and I were a real couple, she had to have realized by now that I wasn’t remotely interested in her. If revenge was her motive, she was certainly taking it to an extreme. And if it was money she was after, my dad hadn’t been treating her to the finer things. He couldn’t. They spent more of their time together here than going out, and as far as I knew, he wasn’t buying her gifts. She wasn’t flaunting new jewelry or designer handbags. No fancy getaways.
Was it possible I’d been wrong about her? Maybe she’d been interested in my dad for who he was from the start. Or perhaps it had started as a way to get to me—or get back at me—but she’d developed real feelings for him along the way?
The idea was both disturbing and oddly comforting. I hated the idea that she’d been using my father this whole time. If she hadn’t been, if the two of them had actually found something together, it would save him from getting hurt.
Everly dragged me into the photo booth. I thought my hat was enough of a prop, but she shoved a giant mustache on a stick at me and insisted I hold it up. She grabbed a gold and black fan and a cardboard cutout champagne bottle.
We looked ridiculous. But by the third photo, we were both laughing.
A strange thing happened as the party wore on. I realized I was having fun. We tried cocktails we’d never had, posed for more silly photos, joked and laughed with our siblings, and danced together to the admittedly very good jazz trio. As I spun Everly around on the dance floor, her silver dress twirling, I felt a freedom I’d only ever experienced on stage.
Playing with my band, I hid behind anonymity. I let the other guys work the crowd. I was just there to let go. To lose myself in the music. But here I was, in my own home, surrounded by people who knew me as Shepherd Calloway, billionaire CEO. And I felt that same sense of freedom. I laughed and smiled and danced.
The band started a new song and I pulled Everly close. I lifted her chin and leaned down, kissing her. Not because we were supposed to. Not to sell everyone in the room on the veracity of our relationship. I kissed her because, in that moment, there was nowhere else I’d rather be, nothing else I’d rather be doing. And no one else I’d rather be doing it with.