Amelia sucks in a rush of air, her eyes flashing. Her hand shoots up, covering her parted lips as she stares at me with a combination of shock and sympathy. “God. That’s awful.”
“The real kicker of all that is I had made a lot of sacrifices for her. A lot. Nearly everything I wanted I had given up for her with the exception of medicine. But I chose NYU to be with her instead of playing ball at Michigan. I finished college in three years instead of four because she said the sooner I can complete med school and residency, the better. Then, on the fucking day I got into Columbia for med school and was set to propose, she informed me she had been cheating on me for the better half of six months.”
Six. Fucking. Months!
“Jesus, Oliver. I’m so sorry. I never heard anything about that.”
“That’s because no one knows, so if you wouldn’t mind keeping that to yourself, I’d appreciate it. The last thing I want is for that to hit the press next.”
She reaches out her hand, touching my arm and giving me a squeeze. “Of course. I’ll never tell anyone. I don’t blame you for not wanting to go in there. It seems we both felt like we had something to prove by showing up tonight.”
That’s not the reason I came tonight. But Nora is the main reason I didn’t want to go in. I’ve successfully avoided seeing her for years. In truth, I’ve been over her for a long time, just not over what she did to me. Most of my bitterness and resentment is on me. I should never have made those sacrifices for her.
I gave up pieces of myself I can never get back.
But Amelia deserves more. She always has, and she never got it. She deserves to have people look at her and treat her with the respect they never did. They owe it to her. Hell, I owe it to her. I don’t want her to leave tonight the way she is now.
“I only wish it had turned out better for us,” she continues. “But I think my carriage has officially turned back into a pumpkin and I should just cut my losses and head home. Tonight can’t possibly end the way I had envisioned it.”
Like a bolt of electricity flowing through me, suddenly I’m giddy with an idea that is quite possibly the most ridiculous idea in the history of ideas. Christa nearly swallowed her tongue when she thought Amelia was my date. So maybe everyone else will react the same way if that’s what they see. Bonus for me—I’ll have a hot as hell woman on my arm and maybe Nora will leave me alone.
More than that, I want to go in there with Amelia. I want to spend more time with her tonight. And if they don’t like it or think less of me for it, well, I don’t give a shit.
But Amelia being my date isn’t enough. Not with my reputation. They’ll just assume I’m using her, because ever since Nora and I split up… I’ve been somewhat of a player. A fact the media loves to report on. Hell, my face is splashed across the internet every other week, showing me with a different woman each time. Not in the last few months or so, but it’s been the standard of my life since Nora. It’s the way I keep from getting hurt again.
And the media reporting on it all? Well, that’s the standard of all my brothers’ lives. It comes with being a Fritz and living in Boston. We own this city. We’re royalty. For better or worse, that’s how it is.
But if Amelia and I really want to make an impact tonight… if I really want to make all those assholes who hurt Amelia choke, and Nora—who still calls me to tell me all her ‘happy’ news—realize that I’ve finally and officially moved on from her… it needs to be more than just people thinking I’m dating Amelia.
They need to know she’s something special. Believe she’s something special to me.
My fingers dig back into my pocket, locating that ring. Looking at her… plotting this insane idea… I’m hit with the fact that I know it will change everything. Both for her and for me.
A deviously crooked smile curls up at the corner of my lips.
Yeah. I have an idea, alright. And I think I can get Amelia to go for it. It’s only for a few hours anyway. What could go wrong?
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