I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth to steady my nerves. I hoped I could revert to the little girl I always played when I was with Christian. If I couldn’t be his woman, I had to settle for being his little girl. After one more breath, I was ready and followed Trinity down the grand staircase.

In my school uniform, I sauntered up carefully behind him. He was drinking a glass of champagne and talking to a nondescript parent. I put my fingers over his eyes and said, “Guess who.”

He put his hand on mine and asked, “Is my girl out of bed without permission?”

“Maybe.”

“Is she in her pajamas?”

“No!”

He took my hand off his eyes and turned around to see what I was wearing. “Darling, you look quite respectable. I thought you’d dress up if you decided to crash the ‘adult’ party. It’s like you aren’t even trying to blend in.”

I put my arms around the crook of his arm, pulled his elbow against my chest, and rested my head on his shoulder. If it had been my first time doing that, I doubted he would have allowed it, but I had been doing that since Mexico. It was one of the rare forms of physical contact he allowed. We didn’t hug the way families did. He tolerated my arm clamp with an easy smile and placed a teensy kiss on the corner of my forehead.

The parent beside us started talking, like that level of clinginess in a seventeen-year-old was normal. Nothing was amiss to him. “This must be Beth.” He put out his hand for me to shake and I momentarily had to relinquish my hold on Christian. “Good job sneaking in,” the nameless parent praised. “I don’t know why they don’t allow students to come to these functions. I hardly ever see my boy.” Then his cell phone interrupted him and he excused himself to take the call.

Workaholic, I thought as the man walked away. No wonder he never got to see his son.

Christian turned his head forty-five degrees and whispered. “Beth, if you keep hanging on to me like this, people will think we’re a couple.”

I chuckled and gave him a bit of space, though I kept my hand in the crook of his arm. “That would be so embarrassing… for me. It couldn’t possibly be embarrassing for you. I mean, you’re so old that being seen with a cute young thing like me could only raise your reputation. I can hear them now, whispering about the adorable little woman you have on your arm. When they look at me, they wonder how I could have let my standards fall so totally when I clearly have so much to offer.” This was said to gently mock him. He always spoke of himself like he was so hilariously grand. “The last few times we’ve gone away together, the hotel clerks wondered why we got separate rooms, so it wouldn’t be the first time someone thought we were together.”

Christian glanced at me. “Your school uniform ruins the effect.”

“Too true,” I replied. 

His lips parted like he was about to say something, but no words came out. He had been growing more and more distant. He was putting space between us. It was in dark contrast to how we used to talk when we were together. We had conversations like bubbles in the bath, you weren't sure if they were doing anything until there were none. Like bubbles, his words were often meaningless, as if he was afraid to give himself to me. Even though he used evasive words, there had been thousands of them. Now there were dozens.

He was going to dump me and he wanted it to look natural.

Instead of giving me words, he placed a kiss on the side of my head, like I was a child. When he finally did speak, his words were light and meaningless. “What have you been up to? Slip anything good into the punch? I hate to break it to you, but it was already spiked when I arrived and not with anything tasteful, I might add.”

“I didn’t. That’s more Trinity’s game. I think the adults are plenty capable of getting themselves smashed without my help. Besides, it’s not like alcohol would improve their personalities.”

He laughed. “Probably not.” Then he dumped the rest of his champagne into a plant. He never overdid it with drinks.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked, trying to wheedle out the reason for the distance between us.

“Of course,” he drawled.

“Do you have a girlfriend these days?”

“Are you worried I wouldn’t tell you if such a thing happened?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“What, exactly, do you think would change between us if such a person existed?” he asked. His eyes darted around my person to see if there was something about me that he had missed, and then his gaze returned to my eyes, where the challenge in his question lingered.

I should have handled his direct gaze better. Unfortunately, I involuntarily averted my eyes and swallowed everything that had been waiting on my tongue.

“Besides,” he continued, “I would never refer to a woman I was seeing as my girlfriend. Girlfriends are for young men. You should be someone’s girlfriend.”

“Why would I want a boyfriend? You make being single look so charming.”

Again, he looked me over to see if he had missed something. His eyebrows lifted and dropped quickly as he dismissed whatever he had been thinking. I realized he was looking for signs of maturity as he discarded his empty goblet on a waiter’s tray. “To change the subject,” he began slyly. “I was going to ask you where you wanted to go this summer. I was thinking about Sydney or maybe Okinawa. Want to go swimming?”

“What about your place? I know you have a flat in London I haven’t seen.”

He shrugged his immaculate, elegant shoulders. “It’s boring, and I only stay there for work. It’s nothing but a bed and a window.”

“Yes, but I haven’t seen out that window,” I persisted, showering myself in innocent enthusiasm.

“It’s an alley-way, darling. An alley-way. I’d much rather take you scuba diving.”

I sighed and tried a different tack. “Christian, do you realize that I don’t have a home? I may not have visited my parents’ home more than twice a year when they were alive, but at least that was a place filled with pictures of us, books we had read, music we chose instead of elevator music, motel art, and old magazines. I haven’t had anything like that in years and I’m so lonesome for it I could die. Can’t you give me a place that could be my home?”

While I was speaking, he looked worried, but he calmed down considerably by the time I finished and answered smoothly. “Is that all? Why didn’t you say something sooner? I hate being in the same place. I can't put down roots, but I can understand it if you want to hang your Christmas stocking on the same hearth every year. I’m sure we could arrange for you to visit one of your aunts.”

“No,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to see them. They’re still disgruntled that my parents didn’t have enough money to spread around. Don’t try to fob me off on them. I want a home with you.”

He shook his hand dismissively. “You know my work has me hopping planes every other day. I would never be there.”

“Fine. I bet I’d see you more in London than I do now.”

Christian looked like he was tired of talking to me and I knew from his expression that he had no intention of giving in to my demand.

After that, he danced with me twice and Trinity once. Then he faked a yawn, patted me on the head and said his good-nights.

I stared at the pristine lines of his back and shoulders and felt like clawing my heart out. He was about to get a shock. I was going to run away from school.