***
The flight really did me good.
I organized my thoughts and decided that I won’t let Blair go no matter what. Not without an explanation. Even if she says she doesn’t love me and, by some chance, it’s true, I want to understand what drove her away.
I hurry outside, spurred on by the ticking clock and a spike of adrenaline. We’re so fucking late, and it’s an hour’s drive to Yountville Estate.
I load mine and Blair’s luggage into the trunk first, then help my date with hers. Holding the door open for her, I shake the stiffness off my limbs, ignoring the guilt prickling my skin. I organized a replacement plus one without considering why Blair left.
Now, it feels like I’m cheating on her.
Too little too late for a change of heart now, I guess.
With a bit of luck that seems to elude me today, I’ll rent another room. If not I’ll crash on the floor, or with Rose and her new boyfriend. A little supervision won’t hurt her.
The drive to the venue is painfully quiet, my mind spinning, fixated on where Blair is right now, why her phone is switched off, and whether she’s safe.
But the incessant whirlwind is forced aside by a race against the clock when we arrive at the hotel. Once the receptionist checks us in—informing me that they’re fully booked—we rush upstairs to change.
Throwing my suit jacket on, I remember the day Blair helped me pick my outfits for the wedding. Looking back, that was when I started falling in love with her. It took all I had not to grip her waist, pull her to me, and kiss her in that small changing room.
The yellow skater dress Blair wanted to wear tonight hangs from the closet door along with the deep blue one she chose for tomorrow. I took them out of her suitcase, so they won’t crease, in case, by some miracle, she changes her mind and shows up.
Not even ten minutes after arriving, we’re downstairs, and—thank God—we made it in time.
Conor’s rising from his chair, and Mia’s halfway across the room, heading toward a piano.
As we stop in the ballroom doorway, all eyes turn to us. My brothers’ faces a mix of confusion, annoyance, and surprise... more or less what I expected if Blair was on my arm.
But it’s not my girl.
It’s Ana.
THIRTY-ONE
Blair
SITTING IN THE DEPARTURE LOUNGE, I watch Cody disappear toward a café. A tight ball of nerves forms in the pit of my stomach the moment he’s out of sight but it’s not nearly as overwhelming as I’d anticipated.
Maybe because I faced Nico and Mia. Or maybe because Cody keeps me grounded in the present, calming me with a kiss or a look whenever my hands start shaking.
They’re doing it now, and while Cody’s getting me a mochaccino, I let my mind flicker back to our past few days together, to the sense of freedom and happiness he evokes. It’s in every shared glance, every lingering touch, every sweetly intimate kiss, and mind-bending orgasm.
And it’s certainly there every time he murmurs,I hate youin that low, tender voice. Each time he says it, another hidden bruise inside me heals a little more.
It’s new, this bliss. New, exciting, and addictive.Heis addictive. The more time I spend with him, the happier I feel.
I pull my phone out of my purse at its quiet ringtone. Anxiety ripples through me as my father’s name blinks on the screen. I’ve been trying to reach him since last week, but now he’s calling, I’m tempted to let voicemail keep him from ruining my day.
Keeping it a secret from Cody, I started paving my way out over the past few days. I’ve not told Dad, but there’s nothing he can say to change my mind, so I’ve been quietly selling my valuables—designer purses, shoes, jewelry—piece by piece, hoping to scrape together enough money for somewhere to live when my father evicts me from my condo.
And he will because this is it. I’m done playing his games. Done sabotaging my life. It’s about time he found out.
“Hey,” I say, pressing the phone against my ear, eyes scanning the crowd for Cody. “I’ve been trying to reach you all week. We need to talk.”
“We’ll talk tonight. I need you at the Country Club at eight o’clock sharp. I’ll be heading there straight from the airport so make your own way.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I lift my chin higher, pumping as much conviction into my words as I can. “I’m not coming.”
