I kind of understood, I supposed, but there were times when I saw Parker's empty chair or my Dad in the kitchen making dinner without Rosemary, and I couldn't help but feel something in my heart pull. Martin was a time-ticking bomb with not many months left to live. I was just as terrified of him dying as Rosemary and Parker were – although in a different sense altogether. When he was gone – what next? What would happen to the four of us? Would Rosemary stay and properly, legitimately marry Dad? I didn't like to think of the answer to that. So, firmly shoving the thought from my mind, I rummaged through the sheer number of evening dresses I had – all thanks to Rosemary, who had kept my wardrobe well stocked over the years. Whatever maternal instincts she lacked, Rosemary made up for with material things and over the years, I had come to understand that it was the only way she knew how to love. Picking an off-the-shoulder white dress that had immediately caught my eye amidst all the midnight blacks and navy blues and dusty greens, I pulled it on before slipping into a pair of silver heels. I kept the rest simple – light smoky makeup that I'd taught myself from Youtube videos; my chestnut-coloured hair tied up in a high ponytail; with no other accessories other than the charm bracelet from Parker. I decided I was ready. Looking into the mirror always gave me an unnecessary queasy feeling, but I cast a brief glance at myself in the bathroom mirror and forced myself to smile. It came out looking more like a grimace, but which sixteen-year old teenager wasn't awkward? Parker was already dressed in a newly-pressed suit when I came down. He was reading a book from one of his university courses; a tiny frown etched between his eyebrows. I sighed. He was only nineteen, but he was already too serious and mature for his age. Sometimes, it seemed to me like he had to grow up too quickly. "Where's my pumpkin carriage and string of mice?" I demanded playfully as I hobbled down the stairs painfully. Barely two minutes in these heels and I already felt like I was walking on stilts for hours. Whoever said that one had to suffer to look beautiful was bloody spot-on. But I tried to smile brightly all the same, knowing that my smile was often infectious enough to put one on his face as well. "Cinderella needs her entourage." Parker raised a teasing eyebrow at me. "I've got a stretch limo waiting outside but if you want a pumpkin, I'll see if Mum has one in the kitchen." I glared at him and he grinned. His grey eyes swept over my outfit before he nodded in approval. "You look beautiful," he told me sincerely, "and I'm not just saying this because it's your birthday or because you're my sister." Coming from him, that was high praise indeed. He was always polite, but also truthful, and he'd never compliment me unless he meant it. He held out his arm for me and I slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow. My footsteps were unsure thanks to the bloody heels and I feared I had dug my nails into his arm a little harder than necessary. But if he felt any pain whatsoever, he certainly didn't show it. Parker and I kept up a lively chatter throughout the ride. I told him about my school projects and acting classes, while he bored me with his own classes at University. It was, he said, a fair exchange for all the teenage girl problems I dumped on him everyday. It surprised me when the car suddenly stopped. The chauffeur opened the door for us and I stumbled out, looking around in confusion. "Where are we?" "Remember how, as a kid, you always wanted to go to a ball?" When I nodded in confusion, his smile widened and he gestured vaguely to the building in front of us. "Live your fairytale, princess." My jaw dropped. "You threw a party for me?" "I didn't do all of it," he explained, rather sheepishly, "you know Stella? The girl whose parties I used to attend in secondary school? She throws the best ones and I contacted her to throw one for you." "But my friends told me that I was having a party on Saturday..." " – it's a different party," Parker cut me off gently, with a reassuring smile. "It's subtle, so no one here actually knows it's your birthday; I know you hate fanfares like these. These people are here because they think it's a charity ball – which it is; it's for homeless shelters and some privately funded hospitals. And I know you've always wanted me to do things for charity so this is definitely one of them. But the party's also medieval, the kind with slow dancing and soft music – which you've always wanted." I felt a sudden rush of gratitude – the kind that left one speechless with an awkward lump in the throat. I didn't know whether to cry because I was just so damned touched, or thank him profusely and promise to actually give him a present for his next birthday, rather than buy a stupid pack of crisps and pass that off as a gift. I must've looked on the verge of tears, because Parker smirked. "If you start bawling your heart out, I'm out of here." "You wanker," I sniffled, glancing away from him and at the main entrance instead. It was definitely a black-tie event, if the man in a tuxedo stood by the doorway was any indication. People were still streaming in, but there was marginally fewer now and I was guessing that the event had started awhile ago. Parker tugged at my arm. "Come on, you big baby." I followed him into the building and to the main hall, where the party was in full swing. Then I stopped and stared in wonder. I hadn't been to parties like these before and so I had nothing to compare it to, but it was honestly breath-taking. My eyes swept across the room, pausing to admire the beautiful chandelier hanging above that complemented perfectly with the dim lights. The place was decorated in pastel colours, baby blues and light lavenders and soft cream. There was probably enough food to feed an army or two; and was that a chocolate fountain in the corner? And, of course, front and centre were the couples that slow-danced to the smooth, silky beats from the live band. "So? What do you think?" came Parker's voice from beside me. He slipped a flute into my hands, the stark orange liquid in my glass contrasting with the dark red one in his. "What do I think?" I echoed, a little faintly. It seemed wonderfully extravagant but it was for a good cause and I couldn't be happier. "Tell Stella she really outdid herself, and thank her for me please. And thank you too, because I know all these small touches were really you." "So long as you're happy, princess," he returned easily. Parker manoeuvred us to our seats and I sat, immediately kicking my heels off beneath the table. "By the way, I have to leave you for a few minutes – the head of one of our beneficiaries wants to speak with me. Will you be alright on your own for awhile?" "Of course. I'll keep myself entertained, don't worry about me." "I'll just be over there," he gestured to the little alcove where several men in black suits were conversing. I nodded and he stood up. "Don't fall into the chocolate fountain," he called over his shoulder, turning away before I could so much as flip him a surreptitious middle finger.