𝗜𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝗔𝗳𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿𝘀 | 𝐁𝗼𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲/𝗥𝗙𝗞

XXXII: "Life Imitates Art"

NOTE:
I made this playlist for y'all to enjoy it!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7ycQ5jkR8woPQbkxYc3fWk

The order of the songs mirrored the chapters of this book; the time where Bobby and Evelyn fell in love to where they are now and where they will be in the future. I put new and old songs; one after another, so it'd immerse you into the era they were in but also with a pinch of Taylor Swift and Lana Del Rey. Enjoy! <3

[16th June 1950]

The Bellamys checked into an opulent hotel inside the town of Greenwich; it took hours just to get there, but it was worth it given the long-awaited wedding was happening the very next day. They distanced themselves from the Kennedys and Skakels to give them the time and space they much needed. However, as afternoon approached, they received a call from George, Ethel's father, that the receptionist had so kindly connected to their room's telephone.

"Maurice, what are you doing staying at a hotel? You could've taken some rooms at our place!" The man on the other side of the telephone said — the friendliness in his voice made Evelyn felt sick to her stomach. "That's very kind, George, but we understand how busy you and Ann must be," Maurice replied with a statement that was only half-true; the Bellamys weren't about to burden themselves with wedding duties. "Ann insisted! She said you're staying here and must come to dinner. How does seven o'clock sound?" George's invitation sounded great to Maurice, and probably Julia, too, but Evelyn could only think about how painful it'd be for her to smile and laugh at the horrible jokes made by those insufferable, materialistic people during dinnertime.

"It sounds great, George. We'll be there with bells on." Maurice made sure his words sound enthusiastic enough, surely they would not be wearing bells, though. "Speaking of which, do you remember where my house is?" The man asked curiously, with some insincere underlying tone to his voice. Maurice began thinking for a second before responding, "I don't think a house as big as Joe described to me would be hard to find." He nonetheless received a long list of streets names from George that he began scribbling them down with the patience of a saint.

"Evie, come here," Julia called out to her daughter. Evelyn hesitantly rose from the couch in the living room and went into her parents' bedroom that was partitioned from hers. "What?" She furrowed her brows, seemingly in a bad mood from overthinking. "Put this on. I want to see if it fits you nicely." Julia held up Evelyn's ivory bridesmaid dress. "Mama, I just put it on two days ago. It'll fit nicely, alright? I'm not gaining weight," The daughter explained impetuously, she was more than ready to get nagged at by her mother. "Fine," Julia sighed out. "Go ahead, pack your clothes. Since we're leaving and all." She was in defeat as she allowed her daughter to leave, and Evelyn gladly did so.

"Well, I think that's all." George gave Maurice a sense of relief once he finished listing tedious names of streets. "Merde, it's easier to get to Timbuktu," Maurice cussed out, adding some sort of humorous words to cloak the fact he was being serious. "You'll be fine! You're a Frenchman, after all." The man's patrician way of speaking was a dead giveaway to Evelyn; she knew he was going to be a handful to deal with, she kept wishing her father would break all types of agreements he'd made with him and Joe. "We only have a couple of hours left, I'm going to get some shut-eye. See you in a bit, George." Maurice spewed whatever excuses he could think of just to get off the phone with that ol' Wisenheimer.

Evelyn continued observing her father inconspicuously; she was crestfallen — understandably so — that she'd have to watch the love of her life tying the knot with another woman. Maurice leaned his head back into the chair he was sitting on; his eyes glued on the ceiling, a million things rushing in his mind — not one of them was a concern for his daughter, he'd forgotten about that already. "So, we're leaving?" Evelyn spoke up, her father straightened himself up to look her in the green eyes. "Sept heures," He muttered while nodding. Evelyn suddenly felt the urge to throw something in Maurice's direction; she didn't understand how he changed from a warm, loving father into a cold, distant father as soon as a cheque of a hundred thousand dollars appeared in the mail.