The seconds tick by, my fingertips a hair's breadth away from the book, which she didn’t share withanyone.
Fuck it.
I pluck the diary up, my heart racing as I walk over to the little built-in bench by the window that looks over the garden. Sitting, I open to a random entry, my pulse jangling as my eyes drop to the forbidden page.
Dear Boo,
I can’t help but grin to myself. It’ssoLark that she addressed her diary entries not to “Dear Diary” but to the stuffed elephant that lived on her bed.
Dear Boo,
Well, it happened (!!). You know I’ve been going around in circles about it for months, wondering if I was ready, or if I wanted to. But I decided I was, and I’m so fucking glad I did.
Bane and I HAD SEX. I, Lark Peltier, am no longer a virgin!!!
My heart plummets as I read the words. A horrible, gnawing, cancerous guilt snakes through me, twisting my insides.
Of all the fucking entries,thisis the one I had to read, after what happened last night?
I’m a beyond horrible friend and I’m going to hell.
The lump in my throat just sits there, leaden, as I return my eyes to the page.
It was SO GOOD! I mean, it hurt, but just at first. And there wasn’t really any blood THANK GOD. Bane was so cool about it all, too. I mean he was amazing before, and never once pushed for it, or begged, or anything. But when IT finally happened…holy FUCK.
He’s so hot (and big lol). And he made it sooooo good.
I feel vile. Dirty.
I thought it would bother me more than it wasn’t his first time. But it didn't. I wouldn’t want it to have been any different, or with anyone else. He was perfect. Lol his DICK is perfect. I mean really really big, but soooo perfect. Fuck, I love him so much.
Yeah, I’m officially a piece of shit.
For willingly engaging in what happened last night. For craving him. Forcomingfor him. For marrying the man Lark was supposed to have her happy ever after with.
I’m so fucking sorry, I think, squeezing my eyes shut and picturing her face.
I close the diary. I’m about to drop it back into the box and promise myself never to pry into her past like that again. But something stops me. Instead, my pulse thudding heavily, I close the box back up.
And I keep the book.
“I found an old school notebook of Lark's,” I lie for some reason to Melinda. “Do you mind if I…?”
She smiles politely. “Of course not. Anything you want?—”
The loud, metallic buzzing of an alarm goes off, next to a little lightbulb on the kitchen wall under a brass placard that says, “Madame’s Dressing Room”.
Jesus Christ, I’d forgotten about these.
Speaking ofDownton Abbey, these buzzers are a holdout from a century ago. They’re location-based “I need something” servant bells—one in the master bedroom, others in the dining room, study, and dressing room that Medusa, AKA Felicity spends so much of her time and my dad’s money in.
She’s recently decided she’s going to be a “mogul”, and has bought in—hugely, I gather—to this total pyramid scheme multi-level-marketing company called PetalGlow Essentials. Basically, she now sells scammy essential oils and yoga leggings—or, issupposedto be selling scammy essential oils and yoga leggings. So far, she just buys cases of them and then spends all day posting selfies of her and Chanel posing in front of them.
For all his prickishness, even Dad never used these fucking buzzer things, because they’re obnoxious and they reek of snobbery.
Unsurprisingly, Felicity, has absolutelyno problemusing them all the time. Honestly, the snobbery is probably a selling point for her. It also wouldn’t shock me if she’s currently buzzing for Melinda because she needs someone to film her latest TikTok dance.
Melinda’s usually calm demeanor flickers as her mouth sets.
