His bubble butt makes so much more sense now. All those rugby players online look like you could bounce a quarter off their…
“And then, of course,” Blanche continues, oblivious to the fact that I was totally checked out thinking about her son’s ass, “everything changed when Henry was sent away to complete his studies at boarding school.
“I can’t imagine how Ledger felt without Henry there as a buffer. He bought his first motorcycle with money he stole from his father’s desk, started joining every street fighting club he could find, and finally ran into the wrong people who got him into drugs. Luckily, it was always recreational and never anything more, but it was so hard to watch him turn inward and embrace his demons more and more. With Henry away, my husband turned his attention to Ledger and Margot, and while Margot was his princess who could do no wrong, and Henry was the perfect heir he had trained in his ways, Ledger could never meet the expectations set for him.”
Blanche pauses for so long I’m not sure she remembers I’m sitting next to her. “I’m lucky he’s alive, Sloane. And I’m even luckier that he’s forgiven me and not only has anything to do with me at all, but is also one of my closest friends. He’s such a good man despite his childhood. He deserves all the happiness in the world, and I would do anything to give it to him.”
She reaches out and places a manicured hand on top of mine. “I’m sorry for meddling. But now you know why I’m so invested in Ledger’s happiness.”
I feel tears forming in my eyes and squeeze Blanche’s hand. I decide not to be coy anymore and give her what she wants. “I’m glad you meddled. Very glad.”
With another smile, she takes a deep breath and then stands spryly from the bench. “Well, as refreshing as our respite has been, I think we'd better continue back toward the café, don’t you think?”
I join her as we head back, realizing that time has flown by, and it’s almost dinnertime. “I’m sorry for keeping you so late today,” I say. “I hope you didn’t have any dinner plans.”
She turns to me with the biggest smile I’ve seen all day. “I didn’t, but now that you mention it, dinner is a wonderful idea!”
Four hours later, I’ve been to Blanche’s home and gotten the grand tour. “The children didn’t grow up here, but I’ve had this house for years. We moved here when all the kids were out of the house. We wanted something a little smaller and closer to the city.”I’ve gawked at the fanciest library I’ve ever seen in a personal home. “This is nothing compared to the family home where Henry lives now. I’m sure one day you’ll get to see it.”Best of all, I’ve spent hours poring over baby pictures of all of Blanche’s children, but particularly one lanky, smoke-eyed boy.“Wasn’t he just the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen? Between you and me, I was concerned for a bit that he would never grow into how big his ears were, but then he shot up to six foot five during his sophomore year of high school and shocked us all!”
I’ve just agreed to join Blanche in her family’s box for the football game this Saturday when I realize I left my car at the café.
“Oh my gosh, we forgot my car earlier!” I exclaim, horrified that she’ll have to drive me back across town just because I was too busy gossiping with her to remember I had a whole car Iwas responsible for. “It’s been there all day. I hope they didn’t tow it.”That would be awful to have to explain to my parents. Unless the tow truck company has already called them about it. Ugh.
“Oh, not to worry, dear. I sent one of my assistants to retrieve it not too long ago. He should be back any minute.”
Okay, an assistant did her bidding to go get my car. Play it cool, Sloane. Everyone has an assistant these days.I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry you had to go to the trouble, but thank you so much.”
“It’s truly not a problem, dear. And I think I hear Andrew pulling around now. Grab your purse, and we can go meet him outside to make sure your car is unscathed.”
Making sure not to forget anything in case Blanche thinks I’m a clinger trying to fully move into her mansion, we make our way outside to see a sheepish-looking Andrew and a car that is absolutely not my car. It’s a freaking huge, gleaming luxury SUV that looks meant for a celebrity.
“Umm, Andrew,” I say, trying to stay calm, “I think you stole someone’s car. That’s not mine.”
“Well, the thing is, Miss…” Andrew starts.
“Just Sloane,” I say with a smile.
“Well, Miss Sloane,” Andrew continues, rubbing the back of his neck, “when I didn’t see your car, I went into the café to ask if they had anything towed today. The manager asked if I was looking for a black sedan, and when I said yes, he gave me the keys to this and this note.”
Andrew hands me a piece of paper sealed with wax, the logo for Rendezvous imprinted onto the seal.
I stare in shock at the note, take a deep breath, and decide there is nothing I can do at this moment except quell my murderous rage at Ledger’s complete inability to refrain from being a creeper.Turning to Blanche, I see her slight grimace, no doubt wondering if she’s going to reap the wrath her son just sowed. “Thank you for a wonderful day, Blanche. I think we’re going to be great friends.”
Obviously relieved, she smiles and gives me a hug. “I think so too, Sloane.”
Heading for the giant SUV that I freaking hope I can drive,I turn back just before opening the door. “If you can forgive me formurdering your son.”
Blanche’s laughter rings out as I situate myself in the car, adjusting the seat and mirrors to accommodate my slighter build compared to Andrew’s. It’s nice, way nicer than any car I’ve driven, and as I’m basking in the mix of my favorite car air freshener and new car smell, I turn and see the custom embroidery that Ledger mentioned. It’s a monogram in a classic font on the headrest of the passenger seat, and I stare at it in confusion. sSo? That isn’t my monogram. First and middle initial sure? But S? What on earth…oh my God. Ohhhh my God.
He had my initials monogrammed…but withhislast name. Sloane Olivia Sinclair.Crap.I’m gonna kill him. I also think I might love him.
Chapter fourteen
Mom and I stroll into our family’s empty skybox hours before kick-off. She insists on being the first one to arrive to make sure everything is in order. Blanche Sinclair always has a theme, and while the food and drinks are usually catered, she personally decorates the suite because “Nobody else can do it the way I can, darling.”
“What’s the theme today?” I ask, holding up a wig with a grimace on my face.
“This week is ‘let them eat cake’ because they are a bunch ofpeasants,” Mom looks at me like I’m dumb for having to ask and grabs the wig out of my hand, securing it onto her head in a single impressive sweep. “As happy as I was to hear you would be able to make it today, you can take yourself right back home if you’re going to bring such negative energy. This is one of the biggest games of the year, and so help me, we are going to enjoy ourselves.”
