“Who?”
“Your dad.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I try not to, anyway. His choices ruined my life for a long time.”
He broke everything good in my life. Took everything. School. My reputation. Friendships. My relationship with Matt. The last of my childhood was ripped right out from under me.
“The last time I saw him was…” I look up, thinking. “Four years ago, maybe? But even then, I didn’t really talk to him.” I stare blankly at my salad. “We used to be close, too... when I was younger.”
The weight of my trauma settles around us like a thick fog.
“And here I thought the rich always had it easy,” she says with a teasing grin. “But holy shit. I don’t think I’d trade my poverty-stricken childhood for yours.”
I huff out a laugh. “Grass is always greener, right?”
What I don’t tell her about is the darkness. The depression. The loss of autonomy over my own life. The emotional instability thatfollowed me like a shadow. The years of therapy and mental health battles I had to fight just to feel like myself again.
“I guess,” she says, taking a bite of her food.
We chew in silence for a moment before she asks, “So where was Matt in all of this? Weren’t you friends back then?” She pauses, rolling her hand in a vague gesture. “Or… whatever you were.Are.”
“Yeah. He was there,” I say, nodding. “He’s probably the only reason I made it through with any sanity at all, actually.”
Not probably. Definitely.
Matt took me to therapy appointments before I left for Europe. Swept me away for weekend getaways out here in the Hamptons. Visited me while I was in France. He even did his own therapy sessions while I was in mine. Secretly. He doesn’t think I know about that, but I always did. Figured if he wanted to talk about it, he would.
He never did.
But he’d been going there long before I ever was. Thank God for that. Because he had his own shit to deal with.
“Speaking of Matt,” I add dryly, pushing my salad around. “And drama. We’re getting married on Friday.”
Sabrina’s eyes go wide, brows shooting up. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Yep. Can’t make this shit up.” I blow out a breath. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Girl,” she says instantly. “You know I can.”
That’s a relief.
I spill it all.
I tell her everything about Nate, Cole, the custody mess, the fake marriage. The no sex agreement. Her shock slowly fades as I get into the funeral and how I told everyone we were already married without exactly… clearing it first.
“I just want this to work out for him, you know?” I say near the end of my very long-winded explanation. “But at the same time, I’m afraid I didn’t think this all the way through.”
She arches a brow. “You think?”
“Like this account, for example. How am I supposed to keep up with work when I’m flying back and forth to Chicago?” I don’t even wait for her to answer. “I mean, it’s technically only weekends. Thatshould be fine. Except now I want to go to Switzerland. But then, how do I manage that? And is that even a good idea?” I let out a sharp breath. “Me. In Switzerland. WithMatt?”
She just sits there. Still. Staring at me.
It’s not shock. It’s a very clearwhat the hell is wrong with you?look.
Finally, she laughs softly. “Friend, out of all that, you’re worried aboutSwitzerland?” She shakes her head harder. “Were you even in the same room as me for that story? Did you hear yourself just now?”
I grimace. “It’s that bad, huh?”
