Chapter Two

Honey

I push my sunglasses up my nose in a vain attempt to hide the makeup melting off my face. I knew I'd regret caking it on this morning but did it anyway because I refused to let anyone see the red swelling under my eyes.

When the glasses finally drop off, I catch them in my hands and stare at my haggard, tired complexion. My lip quivers, and my eyes prickle with tears I can't help but shed. It started with a lone tear trickling down my cheek, taking the smallest remnant of mascara with it. Now they're in free flow, and I'm at the point where my snot is threatening to make an appearance. Mascara replaces my blusher, and no matter how much I wipe my cheeks, I can't get rid of the heavy black stains smeared across them.

Wiping my face one last time, I lay my head on the seat and close my eyes.

This is nothing. It's just a moment, and none of this will matter in ten years. I won't even remember Jamie's name.

I repeat the same mantra I've been saying to myself for the last few days, hoping it will stop the ache of my heart.

It doesn't matter that Jamie was the only guy in the world who actually got me or that we'd been stuck in the same business meetings since we were five. He is a guy who doesn't care about me. Everything was for show. Even all those times he held my hand under the table when I was so afraid I would faint because my mother had me in a dress two sizes too small. He was there.

Now he's not.

"The guy is an ass, Honey." Olivia sighs next to me, patting my knee as though that will magically make this all better. Easy for her to say when she's got a fantastic boyfriend in Mike and her whole family loves and adores her unconditionally. What's my mom going to say when she finds out? Dad will blame me for the breakup, of course. It's always my fault when things don't go as planned, and this will be one of those times.

Sniffling, I adjust my sunglasses, looking down at my phone and the video I've had on loop since it was sent to me on Saturday. My gut churns at the number of views at the bottom. Over a million people have seen this now, half a million have liked it, and we're only in a town of a few thousand.

So many people I don't even know have watched my humiliation, and so many of them are happy about it.

I let my thumb flick across the screen, passing through all the hurtful comments.

Bitch got what she deserved.

Jamie upgraded.

Honey 2.0

McKenna is so much hotter.

The Queen has fallen.

I wish I could see Honey's face right now.

Did that bitch bother showing up to school today?

"Yeahhh"—Olivia snatches the phone from me—"I think it's time you stopped watching that. You've had it on repeat since nine this morning."

I smooth down my red and blue pleated skirt. Just because I feel like a wreck doesn't mean I should let the rest of the world see it. "Kind of hard to ignore when people keep sending it to me," I mutter. I wish it didn't feel like Miley Cyrus had come tumbling into my stupid pink car, swinging her damn wrecking ball straight through my heart.

Because that's what the people want to see, right? The "queen" crying over a guy who picked a girl who's ten times hotter than her. I never actually viewed myself as the Queen. I didn't even think I was that popular, more like I was riding on Jamie's coat tails. I didn't, however, realize just how despised I was.

My mother was right.

She's always right about me.

I'm worthless without Jamie by my side.

Closing my eyes, I exhale deeply. Jamie's face connected to McKenna's plays in my mind like torture porn. The way he grabbed her with such fierce possessiveness flashes before me, and if you look close enough, you can see the faintest of smiles on his lips as he held her close. My heart aches because he looked like he wanted to be there and had no remorse over his actions.

That's what cut the most. Not seeing my apparent technical fiancé kissing another girl—sure, that sucked ass—but seeing him so happy about it was worse. He is so in love. He never touched me like that, let alone smiled like he was drunk because of it. My upper lip curls thinking about how he threw her in that room, and ungodly images of him having sex with her race through my mind.

Passionate. Sweaty. Hot sex.

Nothing like us or the mechanical missionary we tried out a couple of years ago. He'd always finish first, leaving me halfway there with nowhere to go.

Bet he even went down on McKenna too.

Ugh. I throw my head back against the car seat again, banging it in a steady rhythm this time. I can't believe I actually thought Jamie and I were in love. I was trying so hard, but he was just pacifying our parents. He pretended to love me because that's what he thought he needed to do to keep on his dad's good side.

"You know what? I think it's a Ryan Gosling kind of night." Olivia's hand clutches my palm. "Come to my house, and we can ugly cry the whole time. I'll get some ice cream, and we'll go all out. Calories be damned."

I hear the smile in her voice and give her hand a squeeze before lolling my head to look at my overeager friend in the eyes. Sunglasses still cover mine, thankfully, masking the tears threatening to spill. "I can't." I can hardly get the words out.

"Why not? Has Ryan Gosling ever let you down?" She squeezes my hand back.

I offer her a half-hearted smile. I've lost my boyfriend and reputation all in one day, and here she is, thinking an actor can make me feel better. Did she forget the bittersweet ending of La La Land ?

"I can't. I've got my etiquette classes tonight."

"Screw that. You've just had your heart shoved in a blender and you're worried about which fork goes where?!"

"I'm not, but if I'm late, you know my mom will own my ass."

She's quiet for once, knowing that I'm right. Controlling is an understatement when it comes to my parents. They tell me what to say, what to do, and even how to dress. I'm the girl with more money than I'll need in a lifetime yet have no freedom because of the constraints it wraps around me.

"At least the debutante ball isn't until after the new year. That's more than enough time to find a new date for it."

I close my eyes and press my lips together, dying slightly inside. Does Olivia have the worst case of foot-in-mouth syndrome today? I don't want to think about that right now. Jamie's dad will probably somehow still force him to take me, which would be even worse than going solo.

"Sadly, I don't think my mom will look at it like that." No, she'll think I brought this on myself for not being good enough. She will probably blame the fact I got a B on my history report last month for Jamie's indiscretions instead of seeing it for what it is. Jamie has just never been that interested in me. The sting of that thought radiates through my spine, but I had to admit it sooner or later.

Olivia gasps, bringing her hand to her mouth, and I look up.

Well, I didn't think my heart could break anymore, but apparently, it can. Jamie's right there, skipping down the steps hand in hand with McKenna. Her glossy dark hair flows in the wind, and the smug smile on her face as she takes my place makes my body deflate. I can't hear anything except the erratic beating of my heart as my ex-boyfriend walks away from me as though I never existed.

What did I do to make him turn on me like this? To toss me aside like I'm nothing but an old skid-marked jock strap?

He hasn't even looked at me since the video was shared on social media. Didn't talk to me in English when I sat there staring at the back of his head, willing him to acknowledge that because of him, all eyes were on me. The whispers were more like taunts, and he pretended to be oblivious to all of it, acting like it was any other day. I had to hold my own hand under the desk and swallow the little pride I had left to get through the class without crying.

Sighing, I turn on the engine of my car. "Come on, I need to get home before my mom calls."

Before Olivia lets go of my knee, she quietly says, "It will get better. I promise." I offer her a small smile and start to drive. Today can't end fast enough.

After twenty minutes of silence, then dropping Olivia off, I pull up to the Sanderson estate. I wish it was only a mansion, but with the extra fifteen acres we own around it, a vineyard, and stables, it's not exactly that simple. How can twenty-seven rooms full of so much stuff feel so empty? Beautiful architecture and brilliant design make the place feel more like a living museum than a home. I wonder if that's how the King of England feels when he walks around Windsor Castle. People would beg for the life I have, but as I sit here in my Pepto Bismol car, I can't help but feel sorry for myself.

I didn't ask for any of this and hate that my life has been planned through every intricate detail. My school, my hobbies, my hair color, my makeup. Hell, I was told I was marrying Jamie before I even knew what a boyfriend was. We were supposed to be inevitable. The endgame to end all endgames. Joining Sanderson and Nicks not only in a legal partnership but in blood. Although, with my luck, our fathers will probably still make us do it and expect me to consider myself lucky that Jamie only cheats on me with his secretary or some stupid shit like that.

"Hunniford!" My mother taps urgently against the glass, startling me. "What are you still doing out here? Ms. Rosen is inside waiting for you."

Despite the tapping splitting my already aching head, at least she hadn't started her conversation by mentioning Jamie. That means the video hasn't reached her friends at the golf club yet, and I might get out of talking to her about it today.

I push my sunglasses up my nose one last time before grabbing my purse and opening the car door. "Sorry, Mom. My history teacher wanted to talk over an assignment with me." It was a lie, but that's something I'm used to doing with her. It's the only way to survive in the Sanderson household.

Why have an ugly truth when a beautiful lie will do?

Walking past my mother in her impeccable white pantsuit, her heels click against the marble floor as she tried to keep up with me. "Hunniford, did you roll up your skirt? Your thighs are jiggling."

"No, Mom. Just getting fat." I grit the last part out under my breath.

"Well, we'll need to get you a size larger until you've worked that weight off." I roll my eyes, clenching my fists tight because the pain of my perfectly manicured nails digging into my skin makes dealing with her that much easier.

"Sure thing." Whatever, I don't want to pick a fight with her; I've had enough confrontation for one day. "Just going to get ready for my class." I push through the large steel filigree doors and rush up the stairs without giving her a second glance. I'll be in a good place if I can get out of this conversation without her asking me to remove my sunglasses.

"Before you go," my mom calls, and I clutch the banister a little too tightly.

I respond with the gentlest "Mm-hm."

"I've invited Jamie and his parents over for dinner Thursday night and canceled your horse-riding class already so you can join us. There's a new navy dress hanging in your wardrobe for the occasion."

Dinner with Jamie and his parents? Yeah, that's not happening.

"Thursday?"

"Yes. Why? Have you got something else planned?"

"No, it's just that Jamie has to go to this bonfire for the football team then. It's the first pep rally of the year, so I don't think he'll be able to make it." Ergo, maybe I can go to my class instead.

"Oh, that's too bad. You can probably still wear that dress to the bonfire, then." I grimace. Shit. That wasn't part of the plan.

"It might be a little too formal, Mom. I'll probably go for jeans and a shirt."

"Or Jamie's jersey."

"Of course." Jamie's jersey… the one that gets no airtime because he never plays. He's a terrible football player and a terrible sport, but I would always dutifully wear his spotless practice jersey because that's what I thought a supportive girlfriend should do. Too bad we had drastically different definitions of the word supportive.

I walk up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The weight of expectation runs thickly through my veins, and the disappointment I will have to face from both my parents irks my bones. I never wanted this. I wanted to be a normal girl with normal dreams, ones I could choose instead of fulfilling a damn legacy. A legacy that only involves me breeding the right kind of child for the bloodline.

By the time I get to my room, I'm already fifteen minutes late, and I huff out a breath as I clean my face and reapply my makeup. Mrs. Rosen won't care what I look like, but my mom will be right outside the room, waiting to say something to me, so I need to look as pleasant and perky as possible.

At least it's only a couple of hours before I can sit alone in my room and finally let my emotions show behind the safety of my locked bedroom door.