She uncovered her eyes just enough to squint at me. “Yes, I know.”
“Do you even care?” I demanded when her head lowered gently back to the cushions. “Is that honestly all you’ve got to say about it?”
“Obviously, I care.”
Relief flickered in my chest, but it died instantly when she gestured around the room. “I care that this lighting is awful. It’s so bright. If I’d known we were doing emotional trauma today, I would’ve set up my ring light and drawn some of the curtains.”
I closed my eyes briefly. When I opened them again, she’d rolled onto her side and was scrolling through her phone.
“Winnie,” I said tightly, following it up with her full name when she didn’t respond. “Winifred.”
Once again, she ignored me. Suddenly, I’d had enough, so I crossed the room, grabbed a handful of her hair, and dragged her upright. She shrieked. “Eliza!”
“Explain,” I said. “Now.”
“I hate you,” she informed me, swatting at my hands.
“I don’t care. Just explain to me how it’s possible that you’re so utterly blasé about all this,” I said fiercely. “We’re talking about the rest of your life. That’s much more important than your damn headache and the lighting in here.”
She flopped back dramatically but stayed sitting up this time, her expression settling into annoyance as she scowled up at me. “I’ll be rich, Elizabeth. It won’t matter what I say, so I’d rather just focus on that.”
I stared back at her, seriously wondering whether she’d left her brain at that club last night. “That’s your plan, to just focus on the fact that you’ll be rich?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “I think that’s a great plan, actually.”
My father nodded like it was a perfectly reasonable life strategy for his youngest daughter to have. Meanwhile, Winnie finally became animated, positively heart-eyed, but not because of her intended husband.
“Imagine the content, Eliza. I’ll have hundreds of thousands of new followers.”
Something inside me deflated. She was genuinely excited about this, but not because of her future husband or the actual marriage. It was all about the money, the followers, and the content.
“I’ve already reached out to my media manager about having the wedding filmed,” she said, all perky now as she pushed her hair back.
“Having the wedding…” I trailed off, a faint ringing starting up in my ears. “Are you serious?”
I didn’t even know why I’d asked. Of course, she was serious.
She nodded enthusiastically. “They’re interested, Eliza. Genuinely interested in the concept of a reality TV show aboutme.”
I stared at her, then at my father, trying to make sense of this entire surreal situation. For the umpteenth time, I wondered if I truly was the only sane person left in my family.
“You might be imagining the content,” I said slowly, glancing between them as I spoke. “I, however, am imagining the scandal. The humiliation. The absolute circus this will become when it inevitably explodes.”
Winnie blinked at me like I was speaking another language. My father let out a long, weary sigh likeIwas the difficult one right now.
“You’re being dramatic, darling,” he said patiently. “There won’t be any scandal.”
I laughed, but once again, it was only because of the shock. This had never happened to me before today, but so far, it had happened twice in only a few hours. The sound didn’t even feel like it belonged to me.
“You thinkI’mbeing dramatic?” I gaped at my father. “You’re arranging a marriage between Winnie andJesse Westwood.”
“Yes.”
“Jesse Westwood,” I repeated.
A flicker of annoyance passed across his features. “Yes, Eliza. I heard you the first time.”
“Daddy, that’s a horrible idea.”
