Grant loosened his tie a little more. “You’re welcome to stick around as long as you like,” he said, “but I’m going to spend the night at my mother’s house tonight. Scotty and my sisters will both be there, and Aunt Tina too, so I just feel like I should be a part of that. I can drive you home if you want, since the roads are bad, but the power should be back. A couple of our neighbors are here and said it went on about an hour ago.”
The balloon went completely flat, and shriveled. He was telling her she could leave. Not that she should leave, of course, just that she could. Her value to him had depreciated as his value with the family increased. It made her feel a little used, but that was silly. She hadn’t really wanted to come to this thing in the first place, so why feel glum that he didn’t need her anymore? It didn’t make sense, except that being surrounded by so much love made her realize she missed human beings—when they weren’t snapping photos or trying to twist her words for a magazine article. She certainly missed her own family.
That was hardly Grant’s problem, though.
“Oh, I can get myself back to the house. It’s not very far.” She wanted him to insist she stay, but he pulled a folded napkin from his pocket.
“OK, in that case, I wrote my cell number down so you can call if you have any trouble with the power or anything. You sure you’re good to drive? How many drinks have you had?”
“Just one.” She wasn’t drunk. Now that his sisters’ interrogation was over, she felt entirely sober. But she wasn’t good to drive. She didn’t like that damn snow. It was freezing cold and slippery out there and she was wearing high-heeled Christian Louboutin boots. Obviously Grant had never tried to navigate a snowy sidewalk in fifteen-hundred-dollar boots. But then again, that wasn’t his problem either.
“I’m fine to drive. You have a good time with your family.”
“Thanks. And thanks for coming. Drive safely.” He squeezed her shoulder, like a roommate, then turned and walked away, nudging the cuff farther up his tanned forearms.
But damn, if she didn’t feel dumped.
She shouldn’t feel dumped. That was stupid. This wasn’t a date. He wasn’t even telling her to leave. He just wasn’t insisting she stay. Maybe asking her to dance would have been a nice thing, though. Or getting her a drink? She looked around, suddenly feeling entirely awkward. The women from the bar had moved to the dance floor and were wiggling their asses like girls gone wild. Any moment now one of them was bound to have a wardrobe malfunction. A couple of the groomsmen had taken off their shirts and were wearing their tuxedo vests over bare chests. Neckties were long gone, or tied around heads like ninjas. This party was in full swing, and now being the invisible girl wasn’t nearly as fun.
“You don’t look like Jeanine Baxter from the news,” the wedding planner said, popping up over her shoulder like a prairie dog. She hadn’t even realized he was near her.
“I don’t?” Her voice was pensive as she watched Grant’s retreating form disappearing into the crowd.
“No, Delaney Masterson,” Fontaine whispered into her ear.
She whipped her head around and watched as an expression of victory spread across his face.
“Hah! I knew it!” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her over to a secluded corner. “You are her, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Yes you are. I am a master of subterfuge. I sniff out scandal the way a pig snuffles truffles, and those hideous glasses on such a pretty face were a dead giveaway.” He kept his voice low, glancing around furtively. Delaney looked around too, for an exit. Her heartbeat was so fast and shallow it vibrated in her chest. Leave it to the gay man to out her.
“Your secret is safe with me, cupcake,” he whispered. “But I must have all the yummy details.”
“There really aren’t many details,” she said.
He shook his head. “Oh, there must be. I live for that sort of thing. Let me guess. You’ve been having a torrid affair with Grant Connelly for months and came here to meet the family, but you’re keeping your identity a secret so they won’t realize you’re the wildly infamous Pop Rocks girl? Right? Am I right? Oh my God, that is so fucking adorable.”
“No, God, no. It’s nothing like that. Please, Fontaine, I know you have no reason to cover for me, but I’m asking you to anyway.” Oh, this was awful. Of all the people to figure her out, there was no way this man would keep her secrets a secret.
His excitement turned to crestfallen despair, like an impersonator changing identities. He drew in a sharp breath and covered his mouth with a slender hand. “That’s not it? Then is Grant the father of your secret baby and you came here to tell him? Oh! Trust me, girlfriend, we will all support you—you and your little Connelly bastard.”
She wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted, shocked, or beholden. “I’m not pregnant.”
Fontaine grabbed at her wrists again. “Holy bejebus, is he blackmailing you? Oh my gosh, that’s it, isn’t it? There’s another video and he’s threatening to release it. Grant Connelly is a cold-hearted scumbag.”