“So your parents and the lawyers have drawn up a list of things you must do. It’ll help restore your reputation, and in effect, that of our companies. Simple, easy, seamless, yada fucking yada.”
“What if she doesn’t do them?” Lo asks.
Jonathan shoots him a sharp look. “I was getting there. Hold your fucking tongue for a second.” His eyes fall to me. “Starting today, you no longer have access to your trust fund. When you complete all the tasks, your inheritance will be restored to you in full.”
My money is gone.
I’m broke. Just like Lo.
I wish I could talk to my parents. I would have completed their list without putting my financial security up as collateral. The guilt motivates me enough.
Jonathan stares at Lo, and I know he wants him to ask for his own trust fund back, especially now that we’re both penniless. But Lo remains resolute and tight-lipped.
His father switches his attention back to me. “I must admit, your father didn’t like this idea all that much. He preferred you keep your trust fund, but your mother convinced him otherwise.” I wonder why Jonathan tells me this; maybe to vouch for his best friend. I’m not sure.
“What’s on the list?” I ask softly. “Do I have to leave?”
Jonathan lets out a short laugh. “Running away doesn’t solve anything. In fact, it makes you look guilty. No, you’ll stay in the city, preferably Princeton after the lawyers get done with the university.”
I’m not going to be expelled? Hope surges through me, only to be smothered by Jonathan’s next words. “You will apologize publicly during a press conference, and you will start seeing a psychiatrist handpicked by your parents.” He narrows his eyes at the list. “They also want you to stopvisiting bars and clubs, but really, the three of us in this room can agree that you can go, just don’t be seen. This is about your image not a fucking path to morality.”
He taps his pen on the folder. “The most important and last item on the list…” He reaches into his suit jacket and reveals a small black box. I don’t look at Lo. My eyes zone in on the case as Jonathan opens the lid, a shiny diamond ring inside. “Congratulations,” Jonathan says, his voice more rough than enthusiastic. “You’re now engaged, and the wedding will be held in a year.”
My joints don’t work properly, even though all my thoughts scream violently for me to take the ring. It’s a small price to pay for what I’ve done. But to turn what Lo and I have into bait for the media, cheapening our love, hurts beyond words.
More tears pool.
“Lil,” Lo says, squeezing my hand. “We can find another way.”
We can’t.
This is what they want, and we’ve been selfish long enough. I shake my head, grab the box and pluck out the ring that glitters. It’s larger and more extravagant than anything I’d ever want. I take a small breath and slide it onto my finger.
It fits perfectly.
I can’t stop staring at the way it sparkles and dwarfs my small hand. It’s gaudy and feels cold and wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Lo. He’s fixated on the piece of jewelry as much as me, and I already know what he’s thinking. This isn’t what he imagined for us either, a proposal by his father in his office.
Maybe…maybe we’re just not meant to have a happy ending.
Maybe we don’t deserve it.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
LOREN HALE
When I was in rehab,I had plenty of free time to let my mind wander. Stupidly, I started thinking about how I would propose to Lily. Not any time soon, but when we were both healthy and happy. I even envisioned the ring I would buy her—a small pink sapphire. Simple, non-traditional. I think she would have liked it.
Now I’ll never know.
I glare at my father, hating that he has hijacked my proposal. It’s not entirely his fault, but if we’re being coerced into marriage, I’d rather have something on my terms. He could have given me a day’s notice. Anything.
Instead, I’m going to shelve this memory with all of my other black, inky tarred ones, ruined by something larger and nastier than me. Lily quietly appraises the ring with sad eyes. I wish I could fix this, but rejecting her parent’s pleas will hurt her more. The shame she caused is tearing her from the inside out, and doing nothing to repair the damage would rip her soul.
“The wedding,” I say, breaking the tense silence. “You said it’s in a year.”
My father nods and sips his scotch.
