Page 71 of No Headlines Please

I wanted to share it with Delaney. She was a clean slate – someone untouched by months of bad press, someone who'd give me an honest take if I asked.

And these weren't the only reasons I wanted to tell her. Deep down, I actually wanted her to know that I wasn't the monster everyone claimed.

But where to begin?

With the three separate news helicopters hovering outside the church? With hundreds of guests filling the pews? With the flowers? The dress? Or the bride herself?

No.

The story started with my own mother – Evelyn Whitmore-McGuinness – who'd pushed for Sloane from the start. And why?

Because Sloane would be good for the brand, that's why.

In my world, nobody cared about love. They cared about the family empire along with carefully curated stories of how the brand itself had come to be – with glossy magazine profiles, handshakes worth fortunes, and the illusion that people like us were somehow better than everyone else.

What a joke. For one thing, magazines were a thing of the past, and it's not like I carried the family name.

Instead, the line of succession had come through my mom, who still wore that surname like a crown.

Whitmore.

Yes, those Whitmores. The ones with the watches, the handbags, the cosmetics, the luxury hotels, and more.

On the sofa, Delaney said, "I know what you want to say."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"That you'd rather not share any of it."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I almost did say that."

"So, why didn't you?"

"Because it wasn't true." And then, at her confused expression, I asked, "You wanna hear something funny?"

She nodded.

I met her gaze. "The truth is, I'm actually curious what you'll say."

"Really? Why me?"

"Because everyone else already has an opinion."

She hesitated. "You mean like your friends and family?"

Sure. Plus the rest of the world.

But I didn't say that part, because why tip my hand? If I wanted Delaney's honest take, I wouldn't be doing either of us any favors by jumping the gun. Keeping it simple, I replied, "Well, my mom wasn't happy it went off. I can tell you that."

Delaney looked thoughtful. "So your mom really liked her, huh?"

It was a simple question, but the answer was complicated. "Actually, I'm not sure."

"But you said she wasn't happy." Delaney sat up straighter. "Ohhhh, you mean because of the cost of the wedding?" She gave a sympathetic wince. "I can totally see it, especially if the food was already warm."

I almost snorted. "Mom wasn't the one paying." It was true. Sure she'd insisted on paying for the rehearsal dinner along with all of those ridiculous guest welcome bags. But Sloane had lined up corporate sponsors to cover nearly everything else.

Did I know this at the time?