Page 42 of Xander

I grimaced.

Jordan glanced away, inspecting the sparse garden. I presumed she did it to hide the raw emotions brought forth by the memories. A tear slipped out of her eye, and she quickly swiped it away.

“There was a security camera outside of their home. It captured voice footage of my parents screaming in pain and coughing, asking for help. I… couldn’t watch it. But I heard it.” Her eyes fluttered back to mine. “A-anyway, by the time they put out the fire, there was nothing left of my parents. I couldn’t even give them a proper burial.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I-I didn’t handle it well. It would have been one thing had they died peacefully. But the way they passed away… was awful. I couldn’t stop thinking about the pain they must’ve experienced during their last moments.” Her hands slightly shook as she wrung her hands together. “And you know the worst part? I can’t remember what the last thing I said to them was. I wish to God I could say that it was I love you, but it was probably something like, Can you pass the salad?”

I couldn’t imagine the horror.

She gave me a tight smile. “Your father was really supportive throughout the whole ordeal. I was shaken, and I-I did a few stupid things,” she said a little too quickly. With reluctance, she added, “Henry never left my side even after I-I ended up in a mental institution.”

Jordan peeked at me, intently examining my expression in search of judgment.

I had none to spare. It was an acceptable reaction to the traumatic way she lost her parents, though what she saw in Henry finally made sense.

“He visited me daily and helped me transition out of the institution,” she added.

Jordan didn’t love Henry, I could feel it in my gut.

She glorified his part in “saving her” from a difficult predicament. He was there for her during trying times, and she pledged allegiance to her savior. She was vulnerable and would’ve transferred similar feelings to anyone.

I didn’t know why, but I was relieved at the thought.

She shifted nervously after sharing the heavy details. “Oh god, I’ve overshared,” she said when I hadn’t spoken. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

On the contrary, she was brave for opening up about her parents’ tragic deaths and struggles with mental health. I wanted to take away her pain and erase all the awful memories until only happiness remained. I wanted to do something, say anything to make it better, though her flat tone told me the efforts would be futile. The wound was too fresh.

I did the only thing I could think of and distracted her. I pointed at a woman smoking a cigarette. “What do you think of her?”

“What?” Jordan asked, confused by the abrupt change of subject.

“The woman in the coral garden dress and the high bun,” I persisted. “How do you think she ended up at this party?”

Jordan regarded her with a blank stare for several moments. A relieved expression crossed her face when understanding dawned on her. She played along. “I bet she’s a dancer who recently moved to the city.”

“Why?”

“Dancer’s body with great legs. There is coordination in her movements, but she has a down-to-earth, small-town vibe,” Jordan deduced. “She moved to New York City recently to make a name for herself.”

She didn’t. Her name was Janet, and she was the daughter of one of Henry’s associates. Janet grew up in New York, was a shark in the real estate business, and a terrible dancer. “She’s got to be from the south,” I added. “I bet she is here looking for a sugar daddy to help her make rent until her career takes off.”

Jordan covered her mouth, gasping at the scandalous idea. “Now, that wouldn’t be very proper for a Southern belle.”

I smiled, eyes moving over her bright face. “No, it wouldn’t.”

She pointed at a man in a three-piece suit. “What about him?”

“Investment banker,” we announced simultaneously when he lifted a phone to his ear and cursed someone out.

We broke out in laughter.

Each story tumbling out of our mouths forged a new bond between us. By the end of the hour, we had given everyone a new identity and an imaginary life. Our made-up world was far more optimistic than the real one. With her wedding date looming over me, I was struggling now more than ever with my honest opinion.

Jordan had no idea what she had signed up for with my father. Henry had cajoled her inside a gilded cage without her realizing it, and the thought left an unpleasant aftertaste in my mouth.

She was a jailbird, just as I had suspected.