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“I think it’s actually getting serious with a guy I recently met. He enjoys bird watching,” I deadpan, and my mother and I look at my father, who pales.
“A what?” he grits out in his thick British accent.
I try to keep my expression neutral.
“You know. Like, he’ll go and watch birds for hours and take photos of them; he also made me this super-cute friendship bracelet. So, I’m pretty sure it’s escalating quickly. He doesn’twant to have sex before marriage, so maybe we’ll have a quick wedding, you know?”
“You’re fucking with me again, aren’t you.” His frantic gaze bounces between me and my mother, both of us trying not to break out into laughter.
“Maybe we should start picking out dresses,” she says, nodding agreeably.
“Over my dead body. You two think you’re so funny, but you’re not,” he grumbles as he leaves the room.
My mother and I look at each other and begin to laugh. “It’s just too easy,” I say, wiping away a tear.
She taps the tablet’s stylus on her chin. “Maybe next time we should go with a cowboy theme. Nothing will put a bee in his bonnet more than a countryman trying to take his little girl to the middle of nowhere on a farm.”
I can’t help but laugh as I spring off the chair when my father walks in with a basket of my clothes and places it on the counter.
My mother likes to iron clothes. I’m not really sure why. My father tells me to let her do it when they’re in town because it makes her feel more involved in my life. They don’t have to twist my arm to let her take of a chore I abhor anyway, so it’s become an excuse for me to come back home whenever I please, not that I really need one.
“Oh, there’s a small pile I have to iron quickly. One second,” my mother says as she hurries out of the room.
“You look beautiful, by the way. Where are you off to?” Dad says to me.
“A party. One of the girls I went to college with invited me. Good way to spend a Friday night,” I reply.
“Don’t let your mother pressure you into thinking you need a man because you don’t. If anything, I’d prefer you remain single for the rest of your days.”
I sarcastically nod my head. “Absolutely. It’s why I’ve sworn to remain a virgin.”
He cringes at how casually I say it, and I can’t help but laugh. I love riling him up like this. It’s ironic because he tends to push everyone else’s buttons—forever a smartass—and yet my mother and I beat him at his own game.
“Be safe tonight,” he says, the same way he has since I was old enough to party.
I’ve never given them a reason not to trust me, even when I was younger. Sure, I’ve been impulsive when it came to some things, but nothing they haven’t thought I couldn’t handle myself. “Come over for dinner Sunday night before your mother and I fly out.”
“I’ll mark it on my calendar.” I beam at him.
“Here,” my mother says, coming back into the room and adding another two shirts to my basket of clothes. To be honest, I can’t even remember when I wore those last. She scoops me into a big hug. “Be safe and have a good night.”
“I’ll see you Sunday night,” I say, pressing a kiss on her cheek and then giving my father the same treatment.
As I’m in the elevator, riding down to the lobby from their penthouse, I look at my reflection in the mirrored back wall of the car. My short blonde hair is straightened and slicked back, showcasing my large silver hoop earrings. I live by the philosophy: the bigger the hoop, the bigger the ho. They’ve become a staple piece in my wardrobe from the first time I heard that.
I’m wearing a short black dress that emphasizes my curves, with matching red-bottomed heels. I absolutely love these heels; they’re one of my favorite pairs. I look at the time on the Rolex my father gifted me on my sixteenth birthday. It’s a must-wear every day. Everything else gets switched out, depending on my mood that day.
I’m late, but then again, I’m always late. I don’t usually do it intentionally. I just have a habit of misreading the time. Thankfully, for my career, I work on my own schedule, or otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d be fired.
My phone buzzes again, and I pull it out, noticing a missed call from Hawke. The guy’s persistent, but that’s not my problem. Tonight, I’m planning on getting laid. That will definitely wash away this weird fixation I have with Hawke as of late.
CHAPTER 14
Ivy
When I arrive at the party, it’s already in full swing. Makayla was very popular in college. She was known for her party-girl ways, which is why we naturally gravitated toward each other and became friends.
On the nights Billie wanted to focus on her studies, Makayla and I went out on the town in London. I don’t talk to her as much now, other than a few social media comments here and there. She moved to Manhattan—around the same time I came back—to be closer to her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Jared, who is originally from here. Despite our infrequent communication, there’s one thing we can depend on each other for. If there’s a party, it’s go time.