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“I was thinking we could do some shopping in town today. And Marcy Whitman said her daughter is back in town. She wants to get lunch. What is her daughter’s name? I couldn’t remember last night.”
Scarlett rolls her eyes. “Lucy.” She pops a strawberry in her mouth.
“Right. Lucy. We’ll leave right after you get changed.”
There’s a quiet sigh beside me. “Fine.”
“I was thinking you and Crew could come down next weekend as well. The country club is having a—”
“I’ll be in Paris next weekend, Mom. I need to approve the final designs forrouge.”
It’s news to me—the trip to Paris and that Scarlett told her parents about her new business venture—but I say nothing.
For the first time since Scarlett came downstairs, Hanson speaks. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Scarlett?”
Her hand tightens around her fork. “Yes.”
“The magazine might be doing well for the time being, but that’s no reason to get ahead of yourself. Especially now that you’re married.”
“I fail to see what my marriage has to do with it.” Scarlett’s voice is icy.
“You’re too smart to play dumb, sweetie.” Hanson’s tone is condescending. “You know what the expectations are.”
Scarlett stabs another strawberry. “Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Dad.”
“If you won’t listen to me, I hope you’ll listen to your husband. This arrangement took years. Don’t destroy it to play dress-up.” Hanson glances at me. “Surely you agree this is ridiculous.”
“If I thought it was ridiculous, I wouldn’t be going to Paris next week to help out however I can.” Without thinking it through—at all—that’s the reply that flies out of my mouth.
Hanson is too practiced of a businessman to show any surprise. But it’s obvious he’s taken aback in the way he doesn’t say anything right away. Whatever he was planning to say clearly no longer applies.
“How exciting!” Josephine jumps into the conversation. “I hope you two will make time for some sight-seeing. You never went on a honeymoon.”
“I love sight-seeing.” I don’t; I can’t recall the last time I actually took in the sights on a trip. My international travel for Kensington Consolidated usually consists of quality time spent at a hotel and in a boardroom. It’s worth saying so to see the dubious expression on Scarlett’s face, though. I resist the urge to laugh.
Josephine goes on and on about her favorite spots in Paris while Scarlett and I eat. Hanson stays focused on his newspaper. Scarlett eventually excuses herself to go up and change. I give her a few minutes head start and then follow.
When I walk into the room, Scarlett has already dressed in a pink sundress. She glances up in the midst of slipping on a pair of wedges. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I repeat.
“I’m leaving the car here if you want to go out. Keys are on the dresser.”
I slip my hands in my pockets, watching as she straightens and smooths her dress. “Okay. I might go see Andrew for a bit.”
“Okay,” she echoes. There’s some curiosity on her face—I’m sure she wants to ask about what happened with Camden again—but all she does is grab her phone.
“You want to head home when you get back?”
Our original plan was to spend another night, but I’m happy to head back early.
Relief washes over her face. “Yeah.”
I nod. “Okay.”
She glances around the room, checking to make sure she has everything. Then she walks toward the doorway where I’m standing. Rather than pass, she pauses. Her mouth opens. Closes.
Scarlett shakes her head. “Fuck it.”
