I open my door, slipping off the cool leather seat into the hot sun. Squinting despite my sunglasses, partially to hide my growing scowl, I survey the house.
I don’t want to be here. And I’m mad about that because I’ve never avoided anywhere before. I didn’t miss a day of school after what happened with Third. I avoided being alone in the locker room after that awful afternoon, but that was the only way in which my behavior changed.
Mom and Dad are approaching, and I force a smile on my face. I don’t want them to worry or to think I didn’t miss them. I’ve adjusted to almost everything about Cambridge, and they’ve commented—with obvious relief—on how happy I seem when they’ve visited me there.
I’ve grown up some, I guess, because being viewed as steady and settled no longer makes me want to make the next possible impulsive decision.
I hug Dad first, then Mom, my smile easier to hold as they exclaim over me and Rory, showing us around the changes they’ve made to the first floor. My expression doesn’t droop until I’m upstairs, alone in my bedroom, wishing it didn’t look identical to the last time I was here.
I drop my purse on the desk, walk over to the bed, and crouch down to lift the comforter’s corner. Tug the fitted sheet free and retuck it the way I like, repeating the process on the opposite corner.
There are still two hours until Mom said we needed to leave for Atlantic Crest Country Club, where Lili’s engagement party is being held. I use every minute, taking a lengthy shower, shaving, moisturizing, straightening my hair and then curling it. I try on every single dress I packed, settling on the same one I originally planned to wear.
I don’t even know why I’m so jittery. The party tonight will be attended by a bunch of people I’ve met many times before. None of them know anything about my new life outside London. Pierre didn’t make an announcement about his proposal. He and I and Rory are the only ones who know. My sister won’t say anything, and I’m certainly not planning to share the news.
It’s being back here, not the party tonight or the unpleasant conversation I’ll need to have with Pierre soon, that I’m uneasy about.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask when I arrive downstairs and only Mom and Rory are waiting in the foyer.
“He went to pick up Arthur,” Mom replies.
I nod. I knew Grandpa would be attending tonight—Lili is his favorite, and I don’t think he’d miss an engagement party for any of his grandchildren. Assuming he approved of the match, of course.
Mom and Rory talk excitedly on the drive to Atlantic Crest. I chime in occasionally so they’re not suspicious of my silence, but I already confessed I was out late last night with Gia and other friends, so they know I’m sleep-deprived and likely hungover. I’m not though. Well, I am tired, but that’s mostly because I lay awake last night, dreading today’s destination. But it’s hard to be hungover without drinking a single drop of alcohol, which is what happened last night.
The driver drops us off right in front of the main entrance, waving away the waiting valet. I climb out first, striding toward the heavy oak doors. Trying to set the tone for tonight, to be the confident, carefree Wren Kensington that everyone expects.
“This is so exciting,” I hear Mom tell Rory behind me. “I can’t believe it’ll be you girls getting married next!”
I don’t look back to confirm, but I can feel my sister’s eyes boring into my back. I’m going to have to have another conversation with Roryabout Pierre, and I’m dreading it almost as much as the conversation with Pierre himself. It’s another misstep I’ve made, somehow fooling a guy into thinking I’m ready to commit when the truth is laughable.
“If you meet the right person and want to get married, of course,” Mom adds, misreading Rory’s silence.
Or maybe she’s talking to me, not Rory. I’m the unconventional one. Or I was.
The imposing oak door opens right as I reach for the handle, a tattooed arm appearing, pushing it open.
I freeze. Blink. Blink again, still not comprehending the shape I’m staring at.
I know that sailboat. I drew that sailboat. And I recognize the anchor inked below it and the script on the wrist. My gaze skates in the opposite direction, up over a muscular bicep and along a broad shoulder, finally landing on his face.
Suddenly, I’m numb. My thoughts are spinning too fast, yet they’ve also screeched to a shocked standstill. I’m oblivious to everything that was paramount before—the pinch of my heels, or the silk fluttering around my calves, or my posture.
It’s not until Rory catches up with me and bends down that I realize my fingers went slack. My clutch has fallen, the contents spilling across the carpeted stair. A valet hurries over, assisting my sister with picking up my phone and lipstick and … the diamond ring that’s fallen out of the box I apparently didn’t close very well after trying it on earlier.
Mom gasps audibly, staring at it.
Rory straightens, handing me my clutch.
I’m most concerned with Sawyer’s reaction. He glanced at the ring, but his expression doesn’t flicker or shift. And now, he’s stepping around us, headed toward the parking lot, the guy he’s with following. Notsaying a single fucking word.
I deserve the silent treatment. Probably. Definitely, considering the way our last conversation ended and that I haven’t reached out once in two years.
“Wren, what—” Mom starts.
The valet is holding the door open, waiting for us to enter. I can feel the air-conditioning seeping out of the building, the cold rush doing nothing to cool my overheated skin.
He’s here.
