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HANNAH
Once I’m locked in the bathroom stall, I bang my head against the door. Unfortunately, these are fancy doors. Instead of plastic that absorbs sounds, they’re constructed of some ancient wood that echoes the knock.
I blow out a long breath.
I just have to get through the rest of tonight. My flight is first thing tomorrow morning. I pee and flush, then grab the handle.
A cacophony of tapping heels echoes off the marble floor, accompanied by several female voices.
“…the blonde here with him?” one of them is saying.
My hand freezes, remaining still instead of opening the latch.
“She’s pretty,” another voice says. “He’s probably just fucking her.”
“Leonardo Branson told my father that Quinn will be a Kensington by the fall.” A third voice joins the conversation, as I realize exactly who they’re talking about.
“I didn’t think Oliver would ever get married, honestly. Even when he was supposed to marry Scarlett. He’s too…serious, you know?”
“Oliver still needs heirs,” someone else adds. “Unless he wants Crew’s kids to inherit everything. I heard Scarlett is pregnant again.”
“Really? I’ll never get off therougewaiting list, at this rate.”
Laughter echoes before the conversation changes to lipstick and mascara flakes while the group of women touch up their appearance. I lean against the door, listening to their voices bounce off the tiled walls before beginning to fade as they head back to the party.
I unlock the door and finally step out of the bathroom stall. No one else is in sight as I turn on the tap. Warm water starts to run, right as another stall door opens.
I freeze, watching in the mirror as Scarlett Kensington approaches the sink next to mine. She pulls a tube of lipstick out of her clutch, coating her lips in a fresh coat of red.
“People will say whatever shit they want about you,” she says, capping it. “To you. Doesn’t mean you should believe a word of it.”
I don’t miss the double meaning.I’vesaid some shit.
Nerves ricochet around my stomach. My memory of exactly what I said to her in another fancy restroom isn’t crystal clear. I was tipsy, and it was a couple of years ago. But I remember enough to know the flood of shame is warranted. And while I’ve wished for the opportunity to apologize, now that it’s here I’m not sure exactly what to say. Scarlett is intimidating.
“So Oliver isn’t supposed to marry Quinn Branson?”
“He was.” Her diamond engagement ring glitters as she looks through her clutch for something. The purse is dyed to match the fabric of her dress exactly, just like mine. “He won’t, though.”
“Why?”
She turns toward me, her expression amused. “Kensingtons don’t ask stupid questions, Hannah.”
There’s a fresh flood of anxiety as Scarlett stares at me. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head, a few ringlets cascading down in perfect spirals. She’s stunning, the woman who captures attention anywhere she goes.
Andshe knows, I realize. Either Oliver told her or she found out some other way.
I swallow. “My last name is Garner.”
“I remember. Hard to forget the last conversation we had.”
I hold her gaze. “I didn’t know who Oliver was when we met. Honestly, I hoped I’d never see you or Crew again.”
Her lips quirk.Almosta smile. “I believe you about that. But I didn’t think you were the type of woman to get married without asking for a guy’s last name.”
“I figured that wasexactlythe type of woman you thought I was, actually.”
A ghost of a smile flitters across Scarlett’s face. “I like your dress.”
