“Backup file?” Aster repeated.
“There’s always a backup on the cloud,” Mitch explained. “That way if something happens with the server, there’s a safety net. In theory, you could look at that.”
Aster’s breath came quicker. “I could? How?”
Mitch drained the rest of his drink and set it on a passing waiter’s tray. “It’s not hard. I mean, I could probably access the files through the server.”
“Seriously?” Aster asked.
“Of course,” Mitch said without hesitation. “My laptop isn’t here, though. It’s at my hotel.”
“Could you do it now?”
Mitch jingled his keys in his pocket, looking torn. “The only thing is, if I go now, I’ll probably miss the rest of dinner.”
“This is more important,” Aster said quickly. “I mean, if you don’t mind, that is . . .”
“Of course I don’t mind.” Mitch shuffled his feet. “And I mean, if you decide to go back to the city with your friend, that’s cool too. To see that Nigel guy.”
Aster stared at him a few moments before she realized he meant Clarissa, and her request to jet back to Manhattan that evening. Not long ago, it was exactly what Aster might have done: chances were the loft party would be way more fun than this dinner. But now she couldn’t even think about doing that to Corinne—or anyone else in her family. She didn’t want Nigel or any of the other smooth-talking guys at that party who would high-five one another later about banging the Saybrook heiress. She wanted the tall, adorable nerd in front of her, with his World of Warcraft tournaments and the painfully hopeful look in his brown eyes.
She glanced around the room. Clarissa was standing by the French doors that led to the patio; when she noticed Aster staring, she motioned her over. Instead, Aster slipped her hand into Mitch’s. And then she edged in even closer, wrapped her other arm around his waist, and kissed him. Mitch hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth to kiss her back. Aster leaned into the kiss, wrapping both hands around his waist and playing with the hem of his shirt.
At last Mitch pulled away, gently detangling her arms from around him. “Okay,” he said, his breath a little ragged. “What was that for?”
“For being you,” Aster said. She reached into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and handed them to him. “Now go. I promise I’ll be waiting when you get back.”
Mitch nodded, the dreamy look still on his face, and wove through the crowd to the front door. Aster leaned against the wall, listening to more toasts. She could feel Clarissa’s gaze on her, but for once she didn’t care what she thought. Her thoughts were elsewhere. On Mitch . . . and on that file.
Poppy’s murder might finally be solved—tonight.
27
By the time Rowan made it to the ocean, Corinne had already climbed out of the water and was sitting on the shore. “Hello,” she said pleasantly to Rowan as she hurried down the bluff.
“Are you all right?” Rowan cried, handing her a beach towel.
Corinne wrapped the towel around her body and robotically dried off her legs. Her hair and makeup were still flawless. “I just needed a moment. But I’m fine now.”
She picked her dress up from the sand, marched into the house, and climbed the back stairs to her room. Rowan trailed behind nervously. “Is this because of Will?” she asked. “Or Dixon? Because there’s still time, Corinne. You don’t have to go through with this.”
Corinne bent over her suitcase and found a new bra and panties. She buttoned herself back into the dress she’d been wearing before, a strange Stepford smile on her face. “I said I’m fine.”
She kept the smile pasted on her face as she gave her hair a final fluff and descended the stairs into the party. The room smelled like a mix of cigars, sea salt, and lobster soufflé. “Finally!” Rowan heard Mason bellow, and everyone burst into applause. Corinne floated through the group, kissing cheeks and clutching hands, taking an extra moment to give her grandmother a big hug. Then she glided over to Dixon, who was sitting at a table with his parents. He stood to greet her, and she gave him a long, passionate kiss on the lips. Everyone whooped.
Rowan remained by the stairs, unsure of her cousin’s decision. Was Corinne trying to prove something? And to whom—everyone else, or herself?
“What took you so long?” Rowan heard Dixon tease Corinne as he leaned in for another quick kiss.