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“Did he?”
“No.”
Scarlett stands. I watch as she holds the side of the bench, stepping into her heels. “We should get back.”
Before I can say anything else, she’s gone in a swish of skirts. I stand reluctantly, and then follow her inside.
CHAPTERELEVEN
HANNAH
My phone rings at three fifteen exactly. I chew on my bottom lip, knowing who is calling without even looking at the screen. Westbrook High, where Rachel works, lets out at three fifteen.
I send the email I just finished proofreading and answer.
“Hi, Rachel.”
“You got married?” The question comes out in a shriek, running through a couple of octaves. “You gotactually married—inLas Vegas, to a guy I’ve never heard youmention, let alone met—and I find out about it because you told Dad and Dad told Mom and Mom told me?”
I pause. “Yes.”
“Hannah! What thefuck?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.” That’s true, at least. I’ve never lied to my sister, not about anything like this.
“How did you even meet this guy?”
“At a bar, in New York.” I lean back in my chair, staring at the black and white prints I have framed on my wall. Palm trees, the silhouette of a surfer, the Santa Monica Pier. “He came over to me and said all the perfect things. We both travel a lot for work, so we’ve met up in different places the past few months.”
It’s not a total lie.
But it’s not how I met the guy I’m married to. And it feels wrong to swap one Kensington in for the other. I might have met them both in bars, but that’s where the similarities in the stories end.
Crew pursued me. I made the first move with Oliver.
“He happened to be in Vegas for a friend’s bachelor party. Dad sent me there about the Coyotes, you know. We met up for drinks, one thing led to another, and…”
“And youmarriedhim. You, who said marriage was for fools with unrealistic expectations after Declan proposed.”
“We’re getting divorced, Rachel. Proving my point.”
“Yeah, that’s what Dad said. He’s disappointed, Han. He thought he’dfinallyhave another son.”
I rest my cheek on my palm so I can massage my temple. “Don’t guilt trip me. I made a drunken mistake. If I’d gotten a tattoo, wouldn’t you support me getting it removed?”
“It would depend on what the tattoo was.”
I sigh. “Look, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you. But it’s because I was hoping there would be nothing to tell. I just want to pretend it never happened.”
“Yeah…good luck with that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Mom is hell bent on meeting the guy who got you down the aisle.”
“What do you mean, she’s hell bent on meeting him?”
“Exactly that. Youmarried him, sis. Drunken or not, that means something.”
