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“I’ll go,” I state, and Moreen nods her head.
“Good,” she says before reaching for her drink and sipping from it delicately. Her eyes fall on her own wedding ring. It sparkles, but it never matches her eyes. They’re dull and lifeless.
This is what Evangeline will look like in the years to come. A woman who’s but a shell of her previous self. I don’t want her to lose that innocence or that childlike joy. I don’t want her to lose that strength. I don’t want to lose her to Thomas Meyer.
I pick up my glass and drain it. It hits the back of my throat, and soon after, I fall into a coughing fit.
“What the fuck was that?” It’s like I drank pure acid. It’s for sure going to set my body on fire.
“You looked like you needed something strong,” Prescott says, shrugging his shoulders. Well, he couldn’t be more right, and I’m sure tomorrow, I’ll need the entire bottle to get through the day.
“Frederic Clairwater does have some balls,” Sebastian mutters, and I feel the need to smack his head to the side for uttering that name.
“I want to fucking kill him,” I whisper.
“Well, I wouldn’t do that,” a soft voice says. I turn my head, and my eyes fall on Jocelyn. “You’re too pretty for prison.” She pinches my cheeks softly, and I scoff.
“Jocelyn, darling, how are you?” Prescott asks, putting his elbow on the booth.
“All good,” she says with her eyes on the invitation turning wet from our drinks. It’s always ‘all good’ before she dives into another topic that doesn’t concern her.
“Evangeline Clairwater… I know that name from somewhere.” Right. Jocelyn missed about two months of prime gossip and crucial changes because she did not attend our Saturday lunches at the tennis club.
“Oh Jocelyn, you have some catching up to do. Lots of juicy stuff has transpired,” Moreen says, and by the tone of her voice, she’s ready to share everything in detail, without leaving parts out.
“Chester fell in love,” Moreen shares like it’s some big revelation. I almost want to roll my eyes when it finally crashes into me what she said.
“Wait. Back up a little. I didn’t fall in love,” I say, confused with Moreen’s statement. I’ve been trying to come to terms with liking someone, and I’m certainly not skipping that step and going straight for love.
No. No, I’m not that far gone yet.
“I don’t know about that, Chester,” Moreen states as if she knows more than I do. I’m taking my bloody time to figure things out, and I won’t let Moreen make it even more complicated when everything is already falling apart.
“What do you know about love, Moreen? No more than I do,” I grit through my teeth. Her face falls before she clears her throat.
“My own experience with love might be twisted and difficult, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping my friends will find it someday.” Her words nestle deeply in my mind. I ponder over them slowly. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fall in love. But Moreen spoke from the heart, and it’s filled with hope. So much hope, which shows that she still believes that things could change for Evangeline and me. She believes in alternative routes and solutions.
And I hope she’s right. I need her to be right because I don’t want to witness Evangeline losing that bright light in her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-three
Evangeline
It’s a beautiful day. Absolutely beautiful. The sun shines brightly over the perfect scene in the large garden. White tents have been set up, decorated with small lights and an array of wildflowers. Wooden tables are scattered around the garden. They are set up with bouquets and candles. In the middle, an orchestra plays softly. It’s all so stunning.
The waiters wear black suits and walk around offering the guests expensive drinks or appetisers. It’s perfect, but at the same time, tainted by darkness. A black filter is over the whole ordeal, and as much as I love everything my eyes catch, I don’t enjoy it.
This should be a day for a happy bride-to-be and the love of her life. It should be family and friends on the guestlist, instead of business partners and possible investors. This engagement party has become a networking event.
The only thing I had a say in was the dress I wanted to wear, but even that had to be approved by the wedding planner. The dress that made the final cut is gold with shimmers all over it. It's straight and falls to my ankles. A large slit opens it and makes it easy to walk in. My gold heels match my dress perfectly.
The jewellery is provided by my stylist, and it’s made of pure gold and looks like it has weathered centuries. They are detailed and intricate, but bloody heavy. The earrings are long and have one large diamond nestled in each of them.
I look like a fiancée, even though this is a scam and a fraud, and I’m certain half of the people present know it. Some congratulated me from the bottom of their hearts. They told me we make a beautiful couple and wish us nothing but love and luck. Others only said it was a smart decision and that love can grow. There were a few who joked about knowing a great divorce attorney.
I had the urge to ask for their number straight away; I’m already dreaming of getting a divorce from Thomas Meyer.
But there’s a more pressing matter on my mind, one I haven’t been able to shake since Mum got back from New York. I’ve heard their whispers. I’ve seen their stares and even now, they stand in a corner, plotting and planning.
