Me: I’m smarter than I look.
Paige: So is that a yes?
I want to tell her no.
Hell no.
If not for the fact that Millie’s father fully expects me to be there, Iwould’vesaid no.
But that was before Millie showed me those texts.
Here. They’re cheating on you too—I suppose you should read them.
I don’t know what Princess Millie has planned but I know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Me: I’ll be there.
TWELVE
It’s been a busy thirty-six hours.
Well, twenty-four really. I spent the first twelve curled up in a ball, paralyzed by an indecisive, out-of-control feeling that was completely foreign to me. Not indecisive because I’m considering forgiving Allister for cheating on me and going through with the wedding. No—that part was decided the second I read those texts. My indecisiveness stemmed from the fact that I don’t know what I’m actually going todoabout it.
After that, I called the hotel concierge and asked him to send the doctor they keep on staff up to my suite. After a brief, HIPPA protected discussion about why I sent for him, he drew my blood to run a complete STI panel and promised results bythe end of the day. By early afternoon, I was able to put at least one fear to rest. Allister is a slimy, cheating bastard but at least he didn’t give me any communicable diseases.
I’ve considered just leaving. Renting a car and driving to the Hamptons house or taking a hotel limo to JFK and hopping the first flight out of the country. I’m a Blackwell. I have unlimited resources at my disposal. An apartment in Paris. A villa in Milan. A 350-foot luxury yacht docked in St. Tropez. I could literally go anywhere. Unfortunately, my problem is the same as my solution?—
I’m a Blackwell.
There used to be a time when the upper echelons of society were practically anonymous. Thanks to reality television and the rise of celebutantes like Delilah Hawthorne, that’s all changed. I’m no longer allowed to hide behind my books and piles of paperwork. I’m expected to contribute and support the image my family presents to the public.
That means social media.
You’re a Blackwell, Millie. Thanks to your cousin and your sister, you’re going to be talked about whether you want to be or not. It’s better togivethem something to talk about rather than let them find it on their own. Once a week. All I’m asking for is a simple picture, posted once a week.
Gwen has over a million followers across her platforms and posts daily. Paige has ten times that. I don’t even have a hundred thousand and barely manage to meet our family publicist’s expectations.
For the most part, they leave me alone but as soon as they catch wind of the fact that I left my groom at the altar—and how—the paparazzi will hunt me down and hound me with questions.
How did you find out your cousin and your fiancé were having an affair?
Do you think there’s anything you could have done to prevent your fiancé from cheating on you with your own cousin?
If Paige and Allister get married will you attend the wedding?
The only real chance I have at licking my wounds in peace is to wait until the last possible second before I pull my disappearing act and to keep the honeymoon reservations Allister and I have at the Hawthorne Cay—an ultra-exclusive, all-inclusive resort, situated on its own private island. It sat half-built for years after William Hawthorne passed away. It wasn’t until last year when his grandson, Wentworth Fiorella, decided to finish his grandfather’s final project did the resort become a reality. Allister and I were to be among its first guests. We were supposed to spend the next two weeks in wedded bliss, relaxing and enjoying each other on an island paradise, far outside the paparazzi’s reach. Now, I’m going to spend the next two weeks sequestered there, alone, while I lick my wounds and figure out how it all went wrong.
Don’t do that.
Don’t you dare start blaming yourself.
You didn’t do this. They did this—Paige and Allister—and they did this toyou.
After thewhenandwherewere decided, all that was left was to figure out thehow.
A dignified exit would be best.
Like I said—I’m a Blackwell.
