Present Day
Laken
Back to Jack fromTitanic.
Even when he knows the ship is going down, and will most likely end up as shark bait, the dude keeps his game face on. It’s like no matter how many icicles hang from his perfect blond hair or how blue his lips get, the dude has this never say die attitude.
You have to respect that. I mean, I think you have to respect that. The chips are down, the band is playing that annoying as fuck song, and people are dropping like flies off the side into the frigid water, but that son of a bitch never gives up.
So why in the hell am I sitting on my couch at six a.m. in an evening gown, stuffing my face, half drunk, and feeling sorry for myself when I should be pulling a Jack and climbing to the top of my own sinking ship instead of going down with it?
Good question. Maybe because I’m a fucking glutton for punishment. Or a moron. Or hopelessly in love. Can you be in love after only three weeks?
Yes. Never mind. I’m answering my own question. Yes, you can, because I’m head over heels in love with Niall Mackay. I just didn’t know it until I lost him. And now, after making myself sick off ice cream and cheap wine, I know now there’s only one thing left to do.
Tossing the demolished ice cream carton on the coffee table, I chuck the spoon across the room and discard the empty wine bottle on the couch cushion. The ship may be sinking, but it hasn’t gone completely under yet.
I’m going to do what I should’ve done six hours ago. I just hope it’s not too late.
Picking up my phone, I call for reinforcements. The minute she picks up, I don’t even bother with pleasantries. “Do you still have the security tapes we saved on that flash drive for a rainy day?”
“Of course,” Lollie says as if offended I’d even ask. “Why?”
“Email them over to me.”
“Why?” she repeats, a slight edge in her tone.
“Because there’s about to be a fucking tsunami.”
***
Threatening Gloria Hammerle ended up being the highlight of my year. No, I take that back. Having her cave under pressure and dissolve into a bucket of tears at my feet was the highlight of my year. Threatening her just felt fucking fantastic.
Spending the better part of a decade as the Hammerle housekeeper, Lollie had made friends with the gardener, the chef, the maintenance workers, and most importantly, the head of security. Not surprisingly, they all loathed Gloria as much as we did and took great pleasure in passing along security tapes of every debaucherously sordid sexual escapade she had on the grounds. Lollie had kept them all on a backup file, calling them her little insurance policy for a rainy day.
With Gloria still threatening to have Niall fired and Sophie thrown out of Ravenhill, as I ran out of the Tate & Cane party, I knew the floods were rising and I had to act quickly. Convincing Lollie to be my partner in crime wasn’t hard. She’d been waiting for a moment like this and gleefully emailed me every pornographic detail that was now burned into my retinas for all of eternity.
With the blackmail in my hand, it was almost poetic to have Gloria meet me at the same park where I’d first met Niall. Perfect for justice to be served. Once I showed her the footage, she folded like a cheap house of cards. Gone was the bravado of Lady Hammerle, her nose stuck so high in the air she’d trip over a pebble and break her fucking neck. All that was left on a bench in Central Park was a woman in a velour track suit with mascara running down her face as she begged me not to send the file to her husband.
Apparently, there was a prenup. And that prenup included a cheating clause.
Do you see the shit-eating grin on my face? Just wait, it gets better.
With a written agreement—because I’m not a moron—Gloria agreed to leave Niall and Sophie alone, and to step down from the board of directors of Tate & Cane as well as give me visitation rights with Preston.
Didn’t think I had that kind of power, did you? Yeah, me either.
But apparently, when your bare ass is on the line—and the pool table, and the chaise lounge, and the kitchen island—then a shift of power can happen in the grunt of an orgasm.
See what I did there?
Now, half an hour after Gloria ran off in a sniveling mess, I’m still here. I’m still sitting on a bench in Heckscher Playground, staring at the same slide where two unsupervised children started a chain of events that landed me right back in the same spot. Only this time, I’m alone and the only thing that’s unsupervised is my life. My future.
My hands shake as I type out the text I swore I wouldn’t send. Twenty-eight days. That’s all our pretend engagement was supposed to last in their eyes. For three weeks, Niall and I met at this same spot and built something that neither of us expected or wanted.
One promise unfulfilled.
Staring at the ring still on my hand, I give it a twirl and hit send.
