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Her eyes find mine under her laughter. “We’ve had some killer parties here, for one. They were the most coveted invite in town. That is, until Carter put an end to them. He hated all the attention you got from other guys. He’s such a weasel.”
She gets up and digs in a cabinet next to the fireplace. “You left once, but Carter got on a plane and brought you back within a week. Only you know what he said to convince you to come back. Another mystery to solve.” Pulling out a book, she opens it and then returns to the couch next to me. “Whatever he has on you, it must be bad because you could have any guy you wanted.”
Whatever he has on me?
“You think he’s extorting me or—”
“Just a hunch since you never seemed that over the moon about him. Sure,” she says, shrugging, “you’ve had good times, but something was always off. I think you two are from a small pool of choices. I’m not judging. I’m in there swimming around, too. We can’t just date anyone when our families have so much wealth.” Her head wobbles. “Well, we can, but is it worth the hassle of possibly being cut off?”
“Why would we be cut off?”
“You know what I mean. It’s just easier to date people splashing around in that same pool as you than to fight to be with someone else. Not saying it’s impossible. Look at Matt and me. He’s broke. But I love him, so he’s worth the fight.”
“You had to fight for him?”
Her shoulders roll up and then fall again. “Not really. My mom loves him, but Carter’s family is different. I think you were the goal from the moment his family met you.”
“That’s so romantic,” I say, feigning a swoon.
“It’s about a suitable match in their eyes, not romance.”
I never thought twice about Loch’s money in terms of what I could get from him. If we’d met with less, I still would have fallen in love with him.
Holding the photo album, she places her hand on it. “You always dreamed of moving to France, but Carter put an end to that. So is extortion out of the realm of possibility? Not with him,”
Sounds like the end of me. Till death do us part indeed.
“But that’s just me because I think he’s an asshole.”
“I left, Allison. I left during the ceremony and didn’t go through with it. He cheated on me, but it doesn’t sound like it was the only time. So what was different that day other than the obvious and the wedding?”
She sits back, chewing the inside of her cheek. Reaching for her wine again, she finishes it. “When you left, you left me as well. I was left in the dark as to what had happened.”
Reaching over, I touch her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“It must be hard not remembering, but for what it’s worth, I tried my best to make his life a living hell for what he did to you.” She stands. “More wine?”
“I think I need it.”
She’s quick to the kitchen and returns with the bottle we already opened. Refilling our glasses, she says, “I was hurt when you left. We talk about everything, but there was no contact from you, and you never answered your phone.”
Her admission draws my attention. “I’m sorry.”
An assuring smile is quick to appear. Sitting down next to me again, she taps her glass against mine. “That doesn’t matter now that you’re back. Anyway, I know what’s happened since.”
She doesn’t, though. Not the full story of me in Manhattan, living a life I could only dream of. She doesn’t know the little things that matter, the parts that I protect in my heart from the outside world—how he looks at me like I’m his savior, the kisses he sneaks on my cheek when he thinks I’m sleeping, or how he stopped his life to tend to mine until I was steady on my feet again.
I sip wine and take a gulp, knowing I want to shout about Loch from the rooftops, to speak so freely about my feelings like I do at home . . . home.
Loch. “I fell in love,” I blurt.
Wine spews from her mouth, causing me to jerk back. “You what?”
I burst out laughing, but it feels so good to speak freely. “Good thing it’s white wine on these light-colored couches.”
She’s dabbing the sides of her mouth with her shirt when she asks, “You’re in love?”
“I am.” My body reacts—heart thumping in my chest and a smile that gives away the truth. “My whole soul is in love with a man in New York City.”
Allison leans forward, her hand touching my forearm. “I’ve never wanted anything less than true love for you. Céline,” she gushes, her shoulders faltering under the weight of a resolved breath. “Tuesday. Are you Tuesday with him?”
