Is he kidding? “A code word? For what?”
“For when you’ve had enough and you need to get out.”
Now I’m really afraid. “I don’t know.” I think for a moment, offering the first word that comes to me. “Infinity.”
He grins. “May I say how fitting that is since it’s what you trace with your finger when you’re mulling something over.”
We enter the house and it’s more crowded than I expected. A lot of people must’ve come by taxi, or maybe they’re like Jack Henry and have drivers. I hadn’t considered that I might have to mingle with an elite crowd.
Shit. I may have married a man from the upper class but I’ve never rubbed elbows with these kind of people, not even in my music career. I’m a simple Southern girl with a twang I can’t shake no matter how hard I try.
Please don’t let me say or do anything to embarrass myself or my husband.
Emma’s at my side almost instantly, placing a drink in my hand. “Evan’s specialty—a painkiller.”
I put it to my nose and sniff. “Mmm … smells delicious.”
Jack Henry takes it from me and turns it up for a taste. “Be forewarned, L. Evan will fool you with these. He’ll add more and more spiced rum in each one you drink. He wants you smashed—if for no other reason than to fuck with me.”
Cock-block. I swear they’re worse than two little boys hitting each other in the nuts. I bet they did that to each other all the time when they were growing up. Poor Margaret. I bet she wore their asses out every day whether they needed it or not.
Emma laughs. “Jack’s not kidding. You should watch out for Evan. He loves nothing more than to fuck with his brother and he’ll do it through you if he has to—just like Jack will use me.” She hits my husband in the arm. “It never stops. I thought they’d grow out of it eventually—especially after we had kids—but they haven’t. They’re worse than my own children so I gave up hope a long time ago.”
I don’t intend on being curled over a toilet tonight or tomorrow morning. “Don’t worry.”
Emma grabs my hand and tugs. “Come with me. I want to introduce you around.”
We make the rounds and my sister-in-law introduces me to one person after another. Jack Henry was right. I’m passed from one person to the next like some kind of novelty. Everyone at the party wants to meet the woman capable of lassoing Jack McLachlan’s heart.
Meeting this many people at once, while trying to keep their names straight, is exhausting. I need a break from the crowd … and the alcohol. Jack Henry and Emma were right. Evan mixes much stronger drinks for me as the night progresses.
I catch Jack Henry’s attention and motion toward the outside door. I fan myself and then point at the door so he knows I mean to step out for air. He gives me a nod, a signal that he understands, and I blow him a kiss.
I step out into the night air and sit in a patio chair with my feet resting on an ottoman. God, it’s hot. I’m not used to bringing in the new year in the summer. I think I almost expected to see my breath in the cold air.
It’s a reality I haven’t considered—certainly not the end of the world—but I realize I’ll never have a white Christmas in Australia. All of the things I associate with the holidays aren’t the same here. I’m surprised by how bothered I am when I consider that my kids will never go out to play in the snow after they’ve opened their gifts from Santa.
“I see I’m not the only one needing some fresh air.”
I turn toward the female voice interrupting my thoughts and see a beautiful, petite blond with silky hair flowing down her back. “Yeah. It’s a lot to take in at one time.”
She sits in the chair next to me. “I noticed Emma parading you around so I’m guessing you are her new sister-in-law, Laurelyn.”
This woman knows my name but that’s not surprising since everyone at this party is aware that I’m Jack Henry’s wife. Still, it’s unnerving. “That would be me.”
“Your accent is adorable.”
“Thanks. It sort of sticks out like a sore thumb. I’ve tried to tame it but I’m afraid it’s no use.”
“Don’t. You sound like a sweet little country girl,” she laughs. “You shouldn’t change it to suit your husband.”
It’s true that I consider myself a country girl but I’m not sure I like this woman’s tone as she tells me I sound like one. I believe she’s trying to insult me—but in a catty way—as though I’m too stupid to see it. And I didn’t mention anything about changing my accent because Jack Henry didn’t like it. “My husband loves my accent and would never want me to speak differently.”
“You’re the one who said you were trying to change it.”
I know exactly what I said and it wasn’t that my husband didn’t like me the way I was.
I don’t know this woman and I have no desire to argue with a complete stranger. I came outside to get a break from empty conversations and I don’t intend on having another with her, especially if she’s going to put words I didn’t say into my mouth.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I get up to leave. “Jack Henry will be looking for me.”
“Oh, look. You’re right. Here comes Jack now.” She emphasizes his name—as if she’s correcting me about what I should call my own husband—and I’m taken aback by her nasty tone and sudden change of demeanor. Who is she? Did I get her name? I don’t think so.
She walks toward Jack Henry and goes up on her tiptoes. I know what’s she’s going to do because I can see it coming a mile away. She intends to kiss him on the mouth. “Hello, Jack.”
The bitch is quick, but he’s faster as he turns his head and grabs her shoulders to push her away. “No, Lana.” He sounds as though he’s scolding a child. Or a dog—so the term bitch would be accurate.
Disappointment is etched all over her face. His reaction clearly isn’t what she’d hoped for but then she breaks into a sneer directed at me. “I’m Lana and I can see from your expression that you’ve heard of me.”
“Don’t,” Jack Henry warns her.
“Don’t what, Jack? Tell her we were a thing and we used to fuck like champions?” She’s smirking, trying to get under my skin—and as badly as I hate to admit it, it’s working.