Page 51 of The Other Side

It startles me.

Frightens me.

“Now, I’m going to find Roger,” he says. “Lindsey is probably floating around, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to give you a tour if you look for her. Can you do that?”

My throat bobs, and I crank out a shy nod.

His eyes poke down the length of me before traveling back up. “Good. Seems like we can use the time apart anyway.”

He walks off, and my mouth twists alongside the curdling in my belly.

“Caviar tartlet?”

My hand snaps to my chest when the waitstaff slides in front of me. I skate my gaze back and forth between him and the platter, the last few minutes draining out of me. “Sure.”

I pluck the bite-sized appetizer, figuring if I’m going to keep myself company tonight, I may as well eat. No matter how unappetizing the food looks or sounds.

The man steers away once I thank him. I lean my nose over the tart shell to inhale a whiff, and I twitch from the pungent fishy smell.

Against my better judgement, I take a tentative bite. My fingers lay against my lips as I chew, attempting to hide my repulsion from the rest of the crowd.

I scoot my head around, locating a trash can near the entry point we came through. When I toss the remainder of the tartlet in the garbage, I turn on my heels to draw a generous sip of champagne.

My clutch vibrates in the crook of my arm, but I pay the rumble no mind. Instead, all of my attention is consumed by the scene before me.

The thing about the color white is there are no different shades. It’s not like when you pick a blue crayon from a box, you have the option to choose blue, sky blue, turquoise, or cerulean.

White is the same shade no matter which white crayon you pick up.

As I search around me, all I can think about is how everyone looks identical. All the men look exactly like Jesse. All the women mirror each other in their fitted cocktail dresses.

Including me.

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to blend in. I wanted to fit in the places where everyone desired to be. But as I look at the sea of white in Roger’s backyard, I find myself begging for someone to throw caution to the wind. For someone to do something radical. Look different. Say something outlandish. Act goofy.

I’ll take anything.

If it was up to me, I would’ve spit that caviar tartlet into the landscaped hedges along the perimeter of the fence. Nothing alluring resides here. As much status and wealth are dancing around me at the moment, there’s not one splotch of color that I see.

Not one.

My chin angles toward the fairy lights, and if I wasn’t entirely sure before, I sure as hell am now. Because after all this time, he was right.

The colorful Christmas lights are way better.

My lips wrench open, extracting a gasp when the car lights up in hues of red, green, blue, and gold.

I pivot around, eyes scanning the perimeter of the vehicle. Brant’s draped a string of Christmas lights over the top of the seats, the minuscule bulbs glowing radiantly beneath the black sky.

“What do you think?” he asks.

I shake my head, ejecting another breath as I regard the scene. “This is wonderful.”

“To be honest, I really like the warm-white lights. They’re simple, elegant, not too gaudy.” My head swivels to gift Brant my full attention. His throat rolls, his hazel eyes pleading with me to listen. “But I decided against it. I figured we could use the color.”

Brant

My forearms are draped over my head when my phone quivers against my abdomen.