My answers were always the same. School was good, and dad was fine. Only the former was true.
My phone buzzed, and I checked the message.
Bee: Where are you???
Knowing Bee would castrate me if I stood her up again, I sighed. Forced to shove aside one problem for another, I dragged myself from my car and trudged up the driveway. Reaching the front door, I rang the gold doorbell. Knowing how lavishly Elliot Montgomery spent his money, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was real gold. For appearance’s sake, he had plunged his way into bankruptcy without regard for his family or the thousands of people he employed.
The door opened, and I was surprised to see a butler, though not the one the Montgomerys had employed for years, standing on the other side of the threshold. This past year, Elliot had been letting go members of his house staff sporadically and without warning, forcing him to open his own doors.
I wondered how the hell he’d acquired the money to afford a new Jeeves.
“Ever McNamara?” Jeeves inquired.
I confirmed my identity with a curt nod.
“Follow me.”
He led me out onto the veranda where Bee waited anxiously with her parents and a woman I didn’t recognize. She was brunette with blue eyes and a sharp smile that instantly put me on edge. Mrs. Montgomery was busy serving lemonade from a crystal pitcher along with the sandwiches and cookies that waited on silver platters.
Give me a fucking break.
“Ever!” Elliot greeted cheerfully. He stood up and shook my hand with a warm reception. I had a feeling this was for the benefit of their guest. He confirmed it when, much lower, he icily added, “So glad you deigned to join us.”
Bee must have overheard, however, judging by the sudden stiff set of her shoulders. Rising gracefully from the chair, she reached for the pitcher. “Father, have some lemonade,” she offered. Pouring him a glass, she shoved it in his hand before he could turn it down.
“Thank you,” he bit out. More graciously after remembering the strange woman’s scrutiny, he offered me a seat. “Ever, I want you to meet Grace Harrell. She’s a reporter at the Blackwood Tribune.”
I knew at that moment that shit was about to hit the fan.
My composure was a renowned thing of beauty. Four claimed I had mastered the art of emotion and how to conceal it, wield it, and ultimately control it.
It was a good thing she wasn’t here to see me now.
“Grace, this is Ever McNamara. My daughter’s betrothed.”
It’s fiancé, you sixteenth-century prick.
Under the table, I ran my suddenly sweaty palms down the length of my jeans.
Grace was beaming when she turned to me and said, “I think it’s so romantic how the two of you played together as kids, and now you’re getting married.”
“It’s just marvelous!” Mrs. Montgomery cut in, inadvertently saving me from responding. “And although it was my dream to see my daughter have a June wedding, with prom in a few days and her birthday and graduation so soon after, I think a September wedding once all the leaves turn would be just as beautiful.”
“It sounds like the perfect ending to a fairy tale,” Grace agreed, “and I think our readers will want to hear every detail from start to finish.” She glanced down and started flipping through her notepad. I frowned when I saw the pages already filled with notes. “I think I have everything I need except the photo.” She then produced a camera from the chair next to her. “You two not only have an interesting story but you also make a beautiful couple,” she said excitedly.
My hands balled in my lap when I realized I had come here to do damage control, but instead, I was ambushed.
“Do you have a background in mind?”
“Oh yes! Follow me!” Melissa happily escorted us inside and led us to an elegantly decorated parlor where I spent the next two hours in various intimate poses with my best fucking friend.
“Beautiful!” Grace said after snapping another countless photo. “Now, I’d like to get a shot of you kissing your beautiful bride-to-be.”
I swallowed hard. “Don’t you think you have enough?”
Grace pouted sympathetically. “I know this can be a little tiring, but I think it will be eye-catching on our front page.”
My heart began to thunder in my chest when she raised her camera expectantly.
Kissing Bee was an unequivocal betrayal of Four’s trust. This wasn’t just another peck on the cheek or forehead.
“It’s okay, son. Lay it on her,” Elliot said with a nervous chuckle. Grace was now looking over her camera at us skeptically. Right now, we didn’t seem like a couple in love.
I looked down at Bee who was staring up at me with pleading eyes threatening to spill with tears. Bee never cried, so seeing her tears now gnawed at me until I reached for her.
It was just a kiss.
One meaningless kiss to save her from a far worse fate.
My hands clutched her narrow waist, pulling her to me. But when I closed my eyes, preparing to kiss Bee with an intensity I reserved for Four, all I could see was Four. In my mind, it was Four’s body pressed to mine and her scent filling my senses and driving them wild.
And then, in an instant, it was gone, and I knew that I’d never get it back if I went through with this. I stumbled away, panic spearing through my chest hard enough to cripple me.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Four would never understand, and I would never forgive myself. I wanted Bee safe, but in this instant, the cost was too great. Bee’s eyes widened as I took a step back and then another.
“I’m sorry,” was all I said.
And then I got the fuck out of there.
ETA to Prom… 1 Day
It was the strangest thing. Tomorrow night I’d be at my senior prom, and I was actually excited. I had a pretty dress, a handsome date, and Jamie had even taught me a few moves so I wouldn’t embarrass myself. It wasn’t like it would be my first time, but there was a stark difference between dancing drunk and dancing sober. When you were drunk, everyone assumed your terrible rhythm was because of the alcohol.
“You should wear your hair down,” Tyra advised as we parked. She had picked me up for school that morning so we could strategize.
“My ponytail will do just fine, thank you.”
“Not the way you do it,” she muttered.
“Hey!” My hands flew up to my hair as if it could hear and had feelings.
“I’m sorry, but as your best friend, it’s my job to be brutally honest.” At my sour look, she rubbed my arm placatingly. “I’m just trying to be there for you, kitten.”
“You’ve been hanging around Jamie too long.”
“It’s not my fault he grows on you! He’s like a mole in your armpit. You hate it, but at least no one will know it’s there.”
“I’m not sure that makes any sense, Tyra.”
“Really? I was pretty proud of that.” She cut the engine, and we hopped out. “Don’t forget we have a mani-pedi scheduled this afternoon. I invited Lou.”
“I’m not wearing nail polish.” I was frowning like I had eaten something bad.
“Then don’t, but those cuticles have to go.”
I studied my nails and realized they could use a little magic. “Fine.”