Chapter 54

The ride to the gala was short but warm, Grandma's soft humming blending with the quiet hum of the car engine. Eli kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear as he glanced occasionally at the rearview mirror. I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, my fingers twisting the strap of my purse in my lap. My heart beat too fast, too loud.

I hadn't been in a crowd since I ran. Every glance from a stranger felt dangerous in my mind. Every reflection in a window held a shadow I didn't want to see. But tonight wasn't about hiding. Grandma said it was a fundraiser. There would be cameras, and people with money and loud laughter, and I didn't know if I could smile long enough to convince anyone I was fine.

The lights grew brighter as we pulled into the venue—a wide, elegant building with tall glass doors and golden light spilling out from inside. People stepped out of sleek black cars in dresses that sparkled and tuxedos that gleamed under the night sky. Laughter spilled into the air like perfume—artificial and lingering.

Eli stepped out first, his usual expression unreadable. He came around and opened my door.

"You're shaking," he said softly.

"I'm fine," I lied, stepping out with careful grace. My heels clicked against the pavement, too loud in my ears.

Grandma took my arm gently. "Just stay close. Look at me if you feel overwhelmed."

I nodded.

Inside, the air was cooler, but no less thick. The sound of clinking glasses, distant music, and mingling voices filled the grand hall. Chandeliers sparkled above like a thousand quiet eyes watching me.

Inside the gala hall, everything shimmered. Crystal chandeliers spilled light like liquid diamonds across polished floors, and servers in white gloves floated past with trays of champagne flutes and tiny hors d'oeuvres that looked too expensive to eat. Joy tried to hold herself together, one shaky breath at a time.

Grandma leaned in and whispered, "Do not try the purple puffs on that tray. They look like desserts, but they taste like betrayal."

Joy blinked. "What?"

"They made my tongue go numb last year," Grandma replied seriously, then waved cheerfully at a man across the room who might've been a senator or maybe just bald and rich.

Eli, ever the shadow, walked slightly ahead, scanning the room like it was a war zone. His jaw was tight, his posture so rigid Joy wondered if he had a metal rod for a spine.

They hadn't gone ten steps before the first ambush came.

"Good heavens, look at her!"

Joy turned—and suddenly found herself surrounded by three women who looked like they'd known each other since the invention of gossip. They wore sparkling gowns that didn't quite match their wild personalities. One had hair dyed the color of red wine, another had feathers on her dress, and the third had enough jewelry to pay off a small nation's debt.

"Young lady, who did your makeup?" Feather Dress asked, squinting at her like she was inspecting fine art. "Because you look like you just stepped out of a magazine!"

"I—thank you. I did it myself," Joy said, her voice awkward but polite.

"Oh, modest and talented," Red Wine Hair said with an exaggerated sigh. "If I were fifty years younger, I'd fight you for Eli."

"Fifty?" the one with the jewelry laughed. "Please, you'd lose. I'd trip you with my cane and take him home myself."

Joy blinked. "You... know Eli?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Red Wine Hair said dramatically, fanning herself. "Everyone knows Eli. He's the mysterious little marble statue your grandmother drags everywhere. Doesn't speak unless spoken to, always dressed like a bodyguard, and somehow manages to dodge every matchmaking attempt in this building."

"Shy boys are the most dangerous," Feather Dress added, nodding sagely.

"He's not shy," Grandma chimed in loudly, suddenly appearing behind them with a glass of water and a tiny sandwich. "He just hates people."

The women burst into laughter.

"Mother, please," Eli muttered under his breath.

"Oh hush, you know I'm right." Grandma popped the sandwich in her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then turned to the old ladies. "But isn't my granddaughter just stunning? She looks like her mother used to—except with a better attitude and better fashion sense."

"Hey," Joy said with a little laugh, unsure whether to be offended or flattered.

"You'll get over it," Grandma replied cheerfully. "Now come on, let's sit. I wore heels, and if I stand too long, I'll start seeing stars—and not the romantic kind."

As they made their way toward a cluster of velvet chairs, one of the old women leaned toward Joy and whispered, "Don't worry, dear. Stick around long enough and Eli might finally talk to someone who's not his mother."

Joy gave a sheepish smile, glancing at Eli, who stood by the side with his hands in his pockets, looking like he'd rather wrestle a crocodile than make small talk.

Once seated, Grandma sipped from her water and gave a satisfied sigh.

"Ah. Nothing like socializing with rich people to remind you that you're still sane."

Joy glanced around. The room buzzed with small conversations, polite laughter, and the occasional burst of over-enthusiastic clapping. A string quartet played softly in the background, nearly drowned out by the sound of heels and ice clinking in glasses.

She started to relax. Just a little.

"I bet five thousand dollars someone here is wearing fake pearls," Grandma said suddenly, peering around the room. "Want to make it interesting?"

"Are you gambling again?" Eli asked, looking mildly horrified.

"It's only gambling if you lose," Grandma said with a wink.

Joy smiled despite herself.

The laughter, the silliness, even the old ladies arguing over whether Eli was emotionally stunted or just mysterious—it all added a strange kind of comfort she hadn't felt in months. Maybe longer.

Joy sat back into the plush chair and took a flute of something pink and sparkling from a passing waiter. It tasted like fancy fruit juice and glitter. The kind of drink rich people probably used to hydrate their orchids.

The old ladies hadn't left. They'd pulled up chairs like they were camping for gossip, and somehow, one of them had already gotten Joy's Instagram handle.

"You'll have to post a picture of you and Eli tonight," said Jewelry Lady, whose name turned out to be Mrs. Adeshina. "So we can tag him and ruin his life."

"She won't," Eli said, finally speaking. "Because I don't have Instagram."

"That's what makes it fun," she said, grinning mischievously.

Grandma waved her empty glass in the air, trying to catch a waiter. "Someone bring me a drink that tastes like bad decisions and comes with a lemon slice!"

Joy choked on her laugh.

"Do you always bring chaos to events like this?" she asked under her breath.

"Joy, dear," Grandma said, now nibbling a second sandwich she probably didn't even ask for, "chaos is what keeps these events from turning into funerals with canapés."

"Grandma," Eli muttered.

"I'm retired. I say what I want."

Before Joy could respond, the room began to dim, and soft music faded into silence. A spotlight hit the stage at the far end of the hall, where a man in a black tuxedo stepped up to the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began with that practiced politician's voice. "Thank you for attending the Foundation Gala. Tonight, we celebrate not only the work done to empower women across the country but also the generous hearts who make that work possible..."

Joy tried to focus, clapping politely at the appropriate moments, but her eyes kept scanning the crowd.

Eli leaned down.

"You want to leave?"

She nodded.

Grandma noticed immediately. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Joy lied. "I just need some air."

"Go with her," Grandma told Eli. "And if anyone suspicious follows, you have my permission to tackle them into the champagne fountain."

"I'm not tackling anyone," Eli replied dryly.

"Then at least throw a shrimp cocktail at their face. Be creative."

Just as they turned to go back inside, a new song drifted through the open terrace doors. Slow, smoky jazz—the kind you felt in your chest more than your ears. The kind of song people swayed to without realizing.

Joy slowed her steps. Eli paused beside her.

His expression softened the way morning fog lifts over water. "That's... my favorite."

She looked at him. "Really?"

He gave a small nod, eyes still focused on the source of the music. "It's an old one. My mom used to play it when she cleaned the house. I guess it stuck."

Joy smiled. "That's kind of adorable."

He glanced at her, and for the first time tonight, there was a faint flush at his cheeks. "Don't tell your grandmother. She'll use it as evidence that I have emotions."

Joy laughed softly. "So you're saying this is a rare sighting?"

He didn't answer right away—just held out his hand, eyes hesitant but warm. "Dance with me?"

Her heart did that thing again—half-skip, half-flip.

"You sure?"

"I'm terrible at asking things twice," he admitted, the corners of his mouth tilting up shyly. "But I'm good at trying."

She placed her hand in his without a word.

The terrace was quiet, the hum of music wrapping gently around them. Eli guided her to the center, his movements careful, as if he didn't want to startle her—or himself.

He held her lightly. One hand on her back, the other in hers. No pressure. No force. Just presence.

For a few seconds, they swayed in silence.

"You're not terrible at this," Joy said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked down at her. "I practiced with coat racks."

She blinked, then laughed. "Please tell me that's true."

"Unfortunately."

"You're full of surprises."

He shrugged slightly. "I don't like being the center of attention. But... I don't mind this."

She tilted her head, studying him. "You're really nothing like I expected."

"I get that a lot."

They moved a little more, the rhythm easy now, natural. His hand was still gentle at her back, guiding without pushing.

"You know," Joy said softly, "you're kind of sweet."

His eyes flicked to hers, and he gave a shy half-smile. "Kind of?"

"Okay, fine. You're actually very sweet. But I didn't want to say it too loud. Didn't want your ego to explode."

"I appreciate the restraint."

Their laughter faded into quiet again, and the moment stretched as the song began to wind down.

Eli's gaze lowered. His hand in hers tightened just slightly. She felt his breath, warm and steady.

She didn't move. Neither did he.

Her heartbeat climbed higher. The space between them shrank—inch by inch.

Then—

Someone inside called out Grandma's name, loud and off-key.

Eli blinked, straightened, and cleared his throat quickly.

Joy stepped back, brushing hair behind her ear. "That was... nice."

"Yeah," he said softly. "It was."

A long pause. He looked down at his shoes, then back at her. "Thanks for saying yes."

Joy smiled. "Thanks for asking."

They stood there for another second—too long to be casual, too short to be a goodbye—before the clatter of laughter inside reminded them the night wasn't over.

"Ready to go back in?" she asked.

Eli nodded, his hand briefly brushing her lower back as they walked.

Neither of them mentioned how close they'd just come to something else.

But they both felt it.