Page 32 of Shattered Saint
With a sigh, I sat up and put my head back down in my textbook again. Even with everything somewhat back to normal, I couldn’t focus on the text in front of me. My thoughts were swirling with the unanswered questions that sat between us, and how and when I would find out the truth.
I cleared my throat and tried to focus on taking notes again. When I glanced up at Nash, he seemed to be doing the same, but I wasn’t fully convinced that he was able to concentrate either. I hated that while the tension between us had lessened, it was still there due to all the things that had been left unsaid.
12
BIANCA
The sound of forks and knives clinking against the small appetizer plates filled the air as the people around me chatted among themselves before dinner was served. I’d only been here for twenty minutes, and I was already over it. Once you’d been to one of these things, you’d been to them all.
I found myself gravitating toward the soft candlelight illuminating from LED candles and the images they created, instead of trying to bring myself to talk to other people. While I should have been trying to make small talk like everyone else, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and ran a hand down my emerald dress. While I wouldn’t mind being in a pair of sweatpants, I did have to admit that this was a beautiful dress.
“Ms. Henson.”
I look up and find myself face-to-face with someone I’d seen often at these parties my parents attend. Tristan Whitmore gave me a warm smile that I refused to return. The main reason why he was here? He was in my parents social circle in part because he was slightly younger than them and he was both rich and powerful due to him being a media mogul. He owned a ton of television and radio stations and as a result, had been making his mark on several online platforms. He had no problem donating to my father’s campaign even though he was a mayor of a town hours outside of New York City.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Whitmore,” I said, lying through my teeth.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Tristan?”
Before I could respond I heard something that grabbed my attention.
"Ah, Bianca!"
I jumped slightly when I heard my father's voice boom from across the room. He waved me over to a small group, which included my mother. All their smiles were just as fake as his. As I approached with Tristan right behind me, I noticed Easton's parents, Oliver and Amelia Beaumont, were in the small group of people my parents were talking to. I caught myself before my face registered how I was feeling inside: shock.
“It’s great to see you again, Bianca.”
“Likewise, Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont." I panicked slightly because if Easton’s parents were here, did that mean he was too? I’d been doing my best to avoid and ignore him despite the class we had together, and so far, it had worked. "It's always lovely to see you both."
"Thank you, dear," Amelia said, her smile soft, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was genuine. At least during all our interactions, she treated me better than her son, and that was saying something. She looked every bit the picture of elegance in her pearl cocktail dress. "We wouldn't miss this for the world."
My heart pounded in my chest as I wondered if Easton would make an appearance tonight. I’d rarely seen him at these events, but with my brother being around here somewhere, and with his newly found interest in me again, I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up. Pushing the thought out of my mind, I focused on the conversation I was having with the Beaumonts, including talking about how my semester at Brentson was going and upcoming events I would be attending with my parents.
That was until my mother spoke up.
"Is Easton joining us tonight?” my mother asked.
"Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to make it," Amelia replied. "But I’m sure he’ll be sad he missed you, Bianca. He mentioned that you had a class together this semester."
I felt my cheeks grow warm. I took a deep breath before I tried to play it off. "Yes, we do. Psychology.”
My mind went blank when Easton’s mother admitted that he’d talked to her about me. I couldn’t help but wonder what he said, but I wasn’t sure how or if I could get her to talk about the conversation they'd had.
Thankfully, the conversation transitioned from Easton and me to other topics. I hated that I was slightly intrigued about why he wasn’t here, but I refused to ask for more information. After all, it wasn’t my business, and I should just be relieved that he wasn’t.
"Amelia and I just returned from a trip to Italy. The Amalfi Coast is absolutely wonderful, especially this time of year."
"Really?" I was happy to engage in this conversation because it took the heat off anything related to Easton and me, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to travel to Italy yet. "What did you like most about it?"
"Oh, there were so many things we loved," Amelia said as her eyes lit up. "But I think we loved our visit to Positano the most. The beautiful water and colorful buildings cascading down the cliffs to the sea were absolutely stunning. It felt as if we were walking through a painting."
"That sounds divine," my mother added, a faraway look appearing in her eyes. "Van, we should plan a trip to Italy."
"Absolutely," my father agreed as he patted my mother on the arm.
However, I could tell that Dad’s mind was elsewhere, and I was willing to bet that it was on his mayoral reelection campaign.
