I smiled, because that’s what you do.
Inside, though, I was thinking, “It would be cool if you at least pretended this was a joint effort.”
Anyway.
Party day.
The house looked incredible. Lights in the trees, candles everywhere, a bar set up on the deck. The caterers were plating things like we were hosting a magazine shoot.
People started arriving around six.
“Claire!
This place is gorgeous.”
“You’re spoiling him.”
I laughed, accepted the compliments, refilled drinks, directed the DJ, adjusted a balloon arch three times because I’m neurotic.
Ryan was supposed to “make an entrance” at seven.
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