Prologue
Molly
"I’m so sorry, Maleficent!" My mother gushed. "We’ve been in such a fuss with the move that…" She shook her head helplessly. "We forgot."
I smoothed hands down the soft pink fabric of my party dress. Hours earlier I’d brushed my hair, scrubbed my face, and climbed into the big chair in the living room, waiting patiently for my party to start. It was my eleventh birthday.
"That’s okay Mommy." I replied, trying to still the wobble of my bottom lip. "I understand."
I pushed up from the chair, pausing to straighten my dress.
My father’s hand came down on my shoulder. "Molly…" His deep voice was filled with regret. "We’re sorry, Pumpkin."
I looked up at him. "It’s okay Daddy." I rubbed my nose with the palm of my hand. He opened his mouth to reply, his face stricken, then shut it, glancing away.
Words wouldn’t bring me presents or the promised party. I left the room, climbing the big curving staircase that filled our new foyer. We’d only moved into the brownstone last week. My shiny black Mary-janes clicked unfamiliarly on the hard wood floor. In my room, I took my dress off, hanging it in the giant walk-in closet. Underfoot, the plush white carpet was spotless, every surface immaculate. We had an army of nannies, maids and butlers to ensure nothing was ever out of place.
My room had been decorated in whites, soft pinks and Tiffany-blue. Mommy called it our upgrade. Daddy had said the other house had been a starter. He said we were old money, but Grandfather had insisted we earn our way. Grandfather was dead now. I didn’t miss him. He'd been mean, and used to pinch my arm when I was loud.
I missed our old house though. It had twelve bedrooms, thirteen bathrooms and was surrounded by trees and land. I’d had my own pony, and my brothers and I had been allowed to romp through the grass, climb trees and get dirty without Mommy caring.
Now, we only had eight bedrooms and seven bathrooms and there seven of us, Mommy, Daddy, Hendrix, George and Thomas, Samuel and me. Daddy said he’d be buying the house next door to expand, but I didn’t like living here. The city was noisy, and I couldn’t visit my pony and I wasn’t allowed to get dirty. Mommy said I was to be sent to school soon. I knew what that meant, boarding school. My brothers disappeared for some of the year, only to return for the occasional weekend or holiday. I didn’t like it. I missed my brothers, and I knew I would miss my home – no matter if it was new.
I flopped on the bed with a dramatic sigh.
"Eleven sucks." I lisped, tongue poking at the gap in my front teeth.
My door burst open, flying back to smack against the wall with an almighty crack. Samuel, home for the weekend, was accompanied by his best friend, Joshua Greenfeld, and Josh’s younger brother, Peter. Peter and I had grown up together, our families living next door to one another. I suspected part of the reason we’d moved to the city was because they had done so a year earlier. My mother and his were best friends, our fathers in business together.
"Happy Birthday!" They yelled. Peter bounded to my bed, landing beside me. He thrust a poorly wrapped gift under my nose.
"Open it!" He demanded, blonde hair flopping about. "It's for you!"
I carefully peeled back the poorly wrapped paper.
"This is us." I whispered, fingering the macaroni-picture frame. Under a thin piece of glass sat a picture of Peter and I, arms wrapped around each other, beaming at the camera. Samuel made funny faces in the background while Joshua laughed beside me, one arm looped around my shoulder. It had been captured at their family’s vacation home last summer.
"Of course," Pete declared. "You’re my best friend."
I looked up into his face, his blue eyes serious as he stared at me.
"You’re my best friend too." I whispered as my young heart fluttered.
Josh interrupted, snatching my hand and pulling me out of the room. "Come on. We've talked Estelle into taking us to the Zoo!"
We ran about Central Park Zoo, eating ice cream and stuffing our faces with hot dogs. Josh, Samuel and Peter may have thought it was a makeshift birthday party for an otherwise unremarkable day. But for me, it was a day that would define the next few years of my life.
That had been the day I fell in love with Peter Greenfeld.
Chapter One
Molly
Oh-my-fucking-god!" I slapped a hand to my mouth, immediately regretting my reaction. "I mean," my voice squeaked. "Congratulations!" I threw my arms open, wrapping them around my best friend, Bess Kirkson.
The ring on her left-hand tangled with my hair, ripping strands free as she disengaged.
"You'll forgive me for not telling you earlier, right? It's just," she laughed giddily, "Pete surprised me by proposing in Tiffany’s – like that scene in Sweet Home Alabama? You know, with Patrick Dempsey? He knew I loved it and decided to recreate it. Then we bought the ring and it's fifteen carats', Molly! Fifteen! And then we went back home and just had the most amazing sex, before coming here." She gushed, thrusting her hand in my face. The giant diamond twinkled, catching the lights of the ballroom. I snatched at her hand, using this as an excuse to free my stray hairs from her ring.
