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I’d been told my entire life that this—the money, the mansions, the status—was the absolute pinnacle. The dream everyone else wanted. That I was incredibly lucky. That this was the best life a woman could possibly have.

And I believed it. I genuinely thought that was happiness. It was all I knew, because I had nothing to compare it to.

Then Drew dragged me into his world.

A world so different from the one I’d grown up in. The noisy downtown bars, the cheap diners, the crowded mini-golf places and sticky-floored cinemas where no one cared what designer bag I was carrying or whether my last name opened doors. For the first time in my life, I was walking around without the Whitmore weight on my shoulders. I was in disguise, sure, but people were still…nice. They smiled at me. They laughed with me. No one whispered behind my back about that awful television incident. No one was keeping score.

There, love didn’t feel cold and performative.

And I don’t think women downtown are expected to endure neglect or infidelity in silence and carry on like nothing happened.

No wonder Mom left.

The thought hits me so hard it almost makes me feel sick.

No wonder she wanted out.

And no wonder she wants nothing to do with me now.

And Jasmine is just like I used to be.

She still believes this is the ultimate prize—that if you have enough money and status, you’ll be happy. She doesn’t know that there’s more to life than showing everyone how well you’re doing. That there’s a whole other world where people actually care about each other instead of competing over who has the richer husband or the bigger house.

So I can’t even be mad at her. I just feel sad. Because I remember exactly how it felt to believe that was enough.

“I think I want to be alone,” I say quietly.

She blinks, then gives a careless little shrug. “Suit yourself.” She grabs her bag and heads for the door. “I’ll text you about the bachelorette party. We should do Spain.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

I’m alone again.

For a long moment, I just sit there, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at me looks lost.

I don’t recognize her anymore.

26

DREW

It’s late Saturday afternoon, and I’m sitting in the same shitty snooker club I always end up in. Mostly because Levi likes it here. The place reeks of cigarette smoke baked into the walls since the nineties. Half the tables have worn-out felt, the AC gave up years ago, and the lighting is dim as hell.

Theo’s in the corner booth, legs swinging, drawing monsters with a half-melted red crayon. I’m nursing a lemonade like a soccer mom, staring at the bubbles.

Got work tonight. The gala.

Levi just finished destroying some guy at the table. He’s chalking his cue when a blonde in a short black skirt saunters over. She leans into his space with that hungry smile women get when they think they’ve found an easy target.

Levi doesn’t even look up at first. He just keeps chalking.

She says something. He gives her a one-word reply. She laughs too loud anyway, touches his arm, nods toward the back exit.

Levi finally glances at her. Unimpressed. He says something short—probably “Nah” or “Busy.” The blonde’s smile falters. She tries one more time, playing with her hair. Levi shakes his head once and walks away without another word.

He drops into the chair across from me, setting his cue against the table.

“Popular as ever,” I mutter.