Occasionally, Kane’s deep voice cuts in with encouragement and stories about the constellations crisscrossing the sky.
He knows a lot about stargazing.
I wonder if he’s had it for years or if he just looked up the myths so Sophie would have a little help from her loving dad.
That’s totally Kane.
An explosive human contradiction who can shift from tender to torrid in ten seconds flat.
Our argument stings.
He never came up to find me since I stormed out, and I’ve been sitting in my room all afternoon, only sneaking down for food after I knew they’d eaten.
Of course, he left me a plate.
Of course, this rich beef stew with thick broth served over delicious sticky rice hit the spot.
He’s murdering my low carb routine along with my better senses.
I don’t know how to feel about that.
I don’t know how to feel about anything.
I just know I’m hurt that he’s down there having a sweet evening with the kids, while I’m up here like Rapunzel in her tower because that big idiot-lunk can’t swallow his ego.
But yes, Igetit.
I get wanting to flee and take the kids away from this mess.
He’s putting them first like any decent parent should.
Mom and Dad never would’ve left us in harm’s way, even if they weren’t exactly affectionate or attentive or—well, you get the point.
Ethan and I had to figure it out on our own.
Everything we had to learn about being a Blackthorn came from PopPop.
I’m no stranger to the limelight and cameras rudely flashing in my face. Or clickbaity people posting scandalous whispers about me online. It’s incredible how much having a fortune makes the world oh-so-interested in who you’re dating or just hooking up with.
Spoiler: the whispers are usually wrong.
Sometimes, you wish for the dating crap when the made-up alternatives turn fucking cruel.
One disgruntled personal chef my mother let go when I came home from college on Thanksgiving break turns into an exposé on how Margot Blackthorn is such a finicky eater. Why, she threw a fit until her parents canned a woman with Michelin star experience and five kids to feed.
And yes, I must be a spoiled bitch because I can fly private and work on my ‘tacky’ shoe designs at forty thousand feet.
Just another talentless rich girl who had the moon handed to her.
Just like her folks.
That one hurt the most, honestly.
When people compare me to Scott and Elvira Blackthorn, and not to Gramps. With Ethan, it’s different because he inherited the family empire.
Kane should also be used to the searing spotlight and people falling all over themselves to shred you just so they can walk away with a few pieces of your ego as souvenirs.
That’s what being famous is—forking over bloody scraps of yourself so the public can bite and tear and taste whatever they imagine.
