Page 36 of The Ring
The only thing I thought might bother people was the no-phone rule, but I think most guests actually appreciate it. Without the worry of anything leaking online, they feel freer and more willing to indulge in behaviours they usually wouldn’t.
My grandmother used the excuse of wanting a relaxing, private evening to justify banning cell phones, but that’s not the real reason. If it were, she wouldn’t have hired professional photographers. What she really wanted was to be the only one with proof of what happened, ensuring that no matter what goes down, she can control the narrative.
The moment I saw TJ walk in with Amelie, dressed in a mustard-colored dress that attacked my eyeside, I knew she had made the right call. I don’t know what he was thinking, but I knew it bothered me more than it should. So, I’m doing one of my favourite things to cope—pretending it’s not happening.
Although I was against this sham of a party at first, I find myself actually enjoying it—well, two things about it.
The first is dressing up. I love wearing ball gowns, and tonight I’m in a silver Oscar de la Renta dress, Giuseppe Zanotti heels, Graff’s classic butterfly round diamond earrings, and a breathtaking 75-carat Mozambique Paraiba cocktail ring from Lydia Courteille on my right middle finger. It’s pure art—I’d love to wear it more often, but it’s widely impractical for daily wear. The only downside to the outfit is that I had to take off my Jessica McCormack ring, as the yellow gold clashed with all the silver. It makes me feel kind of naked, but the moment this party ends, it’s going back on my hand where it belongs.
The second thing is the dancing. I love dancing and watching others dance, especially ballroom dancing. There’s something so romantic and intimate about it. TJ and I used to dance at these events until our feet gave out. Now I can’t dance because I need a partner—one of the downsides of not having a boyfriend.
But maybe I don’t need a boyfriend to dance. Maybe I just need to find someone else.
Where is Laurie?
Or better yet, where is Lucian? He really knows how to dance. I look around, but they’re nowhere to be found.
What I do find is TJ heading straight towards me.
I quickly look away before he catches me watching him. He looks so handsome, and he is wearing a tuxedo.
Men in tuxedos are my weakness, but nothing beats TJ in a leather jacket.
He stands in front of me, saying nothing for a few seconds until the music changes and the band begins playing an orchestral rendition of “All of Me”by John Legend.Our song.
TJ extends his hand. “Can I have this dance?”
I stare at his hand, saying nothing.
“Come on, you know you want to,” he adds with a teasing smile.
Idowant to.
But I shouldn’t.
But I want to.
I hesitate for a second, my hand hovering midway, but I finally take his hand and stand up. “Fine,” I sigh. “But no talking.”
Every time we talk, it seems the only thing we accomplish is getting into a fight.
He responds with a playful gesture, miming locking his mouth with a key and tossing it away, then guides me to the dance floor.
We reach the middle of the dance floor, and he places one hand on my lower back, pulling me closer. Close enough to make me forget for a second how to breathe. His other hand finds mine, and our fingers brush softly before settling together. I look up into his eyes—those deep, alluring greyish-blue eyes.My legs feel weak. His eyes are like a precipice I could so easily fall into.
He leads effortlessly, every step sure and smooth. He’s good—he ought to be. He was my cavalier at Queen Charlotte’s Ball and atLe Bal des Débutantesin Paris.
We dance slowly, feeling the music wrap around us. The melody stirs up the memory of the first time we ever danced to this song, which was in this very same room.
I was fifteen. It was winter break, and we all came here to stay for a few days. My grandmother has her faults, but she also has her good sides. Like how she always lets us come here whenever we want, without asking, and act as if it’s our home. We each even have our own room.
The first night, TJ brought me here.
“I found our song,” he told me.
Three weeks earlier, we’d been in one of Edelweiss’ common rooms, watchingThe Notebook.When the scene came on where Allie and Noah are dancing on the street, I told him every couple should have a song.
“What’s ours?” he had asked.
