One of Those Faces (37)

“Yeah, I made those last year, and I stopped.” I flexed my knuckle over the key ring. “I’d be happy to make another one, just for her.” You idiot.

His expression thawed even more. “Really?”

“Yes,” I said, the word squeezing past my lips before I could stop it.

“Uh, thank you. That would be amazing.” He tucked the bag under his arm. “I’ll give you my number, and I can send you our address.”

I pulled out my phone. “Yeah, okay.” What are you doing? It was strange, on all levels. I typed his number and saved it. My hands felt detached, like they were acting on their own.

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he said, unlocking his phone.

“I’m Harper.”

His eyes darkened again. “What was the name you mentioned earlier?” His fingers hovered over the screen.

“Holly—Holly Bascom.”





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


I stood in front of the doors to the restaurant, looking around the sidewalk and scuffing my heel on the curb. I glanced down at my phone. I was already fifteen minutes late, but my feet wouldn’t move forward. Something burrowed deep into my gut. Dread, maybe?

I inhaled, and my stomach erupted into a growl.

It’s a party. It’ll be fun.

It was impossible to imagine a fun family “get-together,” as Iann had termed it. The last and only time my family had gotten together was to joylessly peer into an open coffin. I blinked, and the image flashed through my mind. I scraped the bottom of my boot over the cement before propelling it toward the door, dragging the second one behind it. My stomach grumbled again as the warm smell of steak and rosemary filled my nose.

“I’m looking for the Parks,” I announced breathlessly to the hostess.

She surveyed me dismissively from behind her booth, and I wrapped my coat tighter around my waist. “Who?”

I didn’t have the energy to say it again. “The Park family,” I wheezed, clutching the small gift box, the cheap fabric scratching my palm.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, yes, they’re at the center table in the dining room.” She gestured over her shoulder without turning around.

I stopped by the decorative plant right before the entrance to the dining room.

They were talking and laughing, flipping through menus, sampling the wine from their goblets. What kind of restaurant had goblets? Iann was sitting on the edge, only half his face visible from where I stood. The wounds had healed surprisingly quickly, but the older woman sitting beside him kept frowning at the cut along his cheek. She had the same brown eyes and nose as Iann. They had the same smile and wave to their hair, although his was darker and hers a light coppery brown tinged with flecks of gray. The dimples on the sides of their mouths both creased with each smile.

A younger woman with the same brown eyes sat beside two dark-haired toddlers, attending them frequently as they banged silverware against the table. A man with salt-and-pepper hair sat with his back to me.

Watching them saddened me. And scared me. What they had was so fragile, and they didn’t even realize it.

What business did I have to intrude on this complete, unbroken family?

Iann’s friends spread out across the rest of the table, an air of academia lingering above them. Jeremy was sitting beside Iann’s sister and her kids, in a heated debate with a girl in a fedora and wide-rimmed glasses beside him.

I took a step back and hovered there out of sight, shoulders bumping past me on their way in and out. The knot of dread twisted deeper into my stomach, erupting through the rest of my body. I knew I would regret that moment, as I looked on at the smiling faces at the table, at the only empty seat beside Iann’s father. It seemed orchestrated. He thought we might get along. That I could get his father’s approval somehow.

A hard lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t swallow past it. My own father hated me. How the hell did he believe anyone in his life would think I was good enough? You aren’t.

I stumbled past the hostess and swung the door open, the cold air lashing my face as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I’d been fooling myself this entire time, pretending to be someone else with Iann.

It felt like the air had been ripped from my lungs. I glanced back at the restaurant door, loosening my scarf.

I could feel her before I saw her.

The hair rose along my arms as she walked out of the glass door and onto the sidewalk. She passed so close in front of me that I had to take a step back to avoid colliding with her.

My mirror image. The phantom in the green coat from before.

Her hair was longer than mine, straight and flowing down her back in a sleek, dark ponytail sitting high on her head. She wore a clingy red dress that covered only half an inch of her thigh and black stiletto heels.

I had only worn heels once. They had been sturdier than hers, and I had wobbled the entire time. But she glided.

I trailed behind her, my heart pounding in sync with the clack of her heels.

I didn’t see the streets or the lights. I followed in her footsteps, blind to everything around us.

She disappeared into a building a few yards ahead of me. She had passed the line and the bouncer without intervention. I quickened my steps up to the door and felt the boom of the EDM coming out from the club, watching as she disappeared into the dark.

I glanced at the bouncer reviewing a couple’s IDs. I pushed past him through the door.