Chapter Sixteen

“Hallie! Come here, please. They need another family photo!” My mother’s overtly cheerful lilt grated from under the arched, white columns of the Art Museum of Dallas. It had been converted into a wedding venue for the day. A school trip had to be canceled to accommodate the event.

I tugged the green sage bridesmaid dress from the pebbled floor, stomping in Mom’s direction. Craig had been MIA so far—an hour into the pre-wedding photos—and Hera, in her Cowen Original ivory silk asymmetric ball gown, was in advanced stages of losing her mind.

As I made my way to my parents and sister, my inner thighs still sore, my center throbbing from my encounter with Ransom last night, I heard Hera billowing into her phone: “I don’t care if he’s dead, Braxton! If he’s not here, looking like a million bucks, in exactly twenty minutes I’m calling the whole thing off. See who’s going to pay off his student debt now. The useless bastard has been freeloading for years. He’s not going to make me look like an idiot.”

“Ship’s sailed,” Ransom murmured, in his black Armani suit as I passed by him on my way to my family, his eyes stuck to his phone. My heart skipped a beat, and I whipped my head around to see if he’d make eye contact. He did.

We shared a moment. A smile. An understanding.

Yesterday was the first time I’d climaxed with a man.

The first time I’d had sex. Real sex.

It planted a seed of hope inside of me. That maybe I could be happy.

I slipped between my parents. Hera stood next to Dad. She flung her phone into one of the bridesmaid’s hands. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

We were standing on the stairway leading up to the Spanish colonial revival-style museum.

Hera swung her gaze toward me. “Covering those tattoos with makeup would be too much to ask, huh?”

“Hera, enough,” my mother chided, wrapping her fingers around my shoulder protectively.

“I don’t understand what got Hera’s panties in such a twist.” I flipped my hair, grinning seductively to the camera as the photographer began to click away. “If aesthetics meant so much to her, she wouldn’t marry a man who looks like a pug.”

“You jealous bitch!”

With a savage mewl, Hera flung her bouquet, launching herself on me. Her fingers were about to encircle my neck when Ransom stepped between us, serving as a human wall. He didn’t touch her, but didn’t let her near me, either.

“Get out of my way!” Hera raked his chest with her French manicured nails.

“Hera, please!” Mom tugged her elder daughter’s arm, trying to pull her away. Dad grabbed her other arm. They exchanged exasperated looks, dragging her down the stairs kicking and screaming.

It was nice not to be the designated troubled child for a change.

“I’ll give you five.” The photographer winced, stumbling back. “I know what it’s like.”

Did he have a narcissistic sister, too?

“You need to calm down,” Mom said to Hera. “You haven’t been yourself in a while. I understand the pressure, but you mustn’t lash out at all of us, least of all Hallie.”

“Your mother is right. We cannot afford a scene, sweetheart. These people signed an NDA, but if something leaked…” Dad added.

I continued hiding behind Ransom’s back, my gaze scraping the back of his neck. Half-mooned red marks of fingernails—my fingernails—adorned his skin, and every fiber of my body itched to touch him again.

“Groom’s here!” A douchehead in suspenders and Adrien Oxford shoes weaved through the white, round dining tables arranged around the garden, knocking over garlands and centerpieces.

Saved by the sexual abuser.

Craig trailed behind him, in a suit and over-moussed hair. Even through his thick layer of makeup, I could tell he was pale. I stiffened at the sight of him. Ransom took a step back, so we were shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Think he’s mad?” I whispered.

“I think I’ll grind every bone in his body into flour if he acts on it,” Ransom replied.

“That’s a vision.”

“Just say the word, Princess.” He bumped his shoulder to mine.

Sensing our presence, Craig’s eyes landed on Ransom and me. His face clouded. His friend pulled him toward his awaiting bride.

“There we go, bud. One step at a time.” Golden Douche grinned.

Hera tramped toward them, crashing her bouquet against the groom’s chest.

“You’re an hour late, moron!”

Dad grunted, rubbing his eyes. “Get me Graham on the phone. I’m going to have to make sure this doesn’t get leaked to the press.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Craig said cagily.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should lay off the beer every once in a while,” my sister bit out.

“Get off my case, would you?” Craig flung his arms, weaving his fingers through his combed hair. “You’ve been on my ass for a year now. Lose weight, whiten your teeth, smile for the cameras, clap, monkey, clap. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take you anymore!” He rubbed at his cheek, as if he’d been slapped. “If I’m not good enough for you, just say the word and—”

“I can’t believe you have the audacity to clap back!” Hera cupped her mouth, clearly devastated.

“I can’t believe it took me this long,” Craig retorted.

His friend slinked toward the bar, which wasn’t open yet, desperately searching for someone to serve him. I’d have almost felt sorry for Craig if I didn’t hate him so fiercely.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” A woman in a green suit appeared from under one of the arches, clutching her iPad to her chest. “But we’re on a time crunch here, and we need to wrap up the shoot in less than an hour.”

“Looks like your meltdown’s gonna have to wait.” I pouted to Hera from the safety of being next to Ransom.

“You.” Hera pointed her finger at me, while dragging her future husband toward where my parents were standing. “I’m going to make sure you pay for this. Someone call the photographer. Now.”

The rest of the wedding was surprisingly bearable, everything considered. Even though I didn’t know anyone, people were nice to me. My parents introduced me to their friends and colleagues, proudly presenting me as their philanthropic daughter. But that could’ve been just to save face. Unemployed didn’t sound quite as charming.

Whenever I felt out of place, I retreated to one of the rooms of the museum with a napkin and a pen and doodled. Doodling slowed down my heart rate. Helped my hands stop shaking. More than anything—it organized the mess in my head.

Ransom was always in my periphery, but never too close. He orbited around me, giving me space and keeping an eye on me at the same time.

After the ceremony came the unrehearsed dinner, and with it, my speech. The couple’s families sat in a row over a long, chiffon-covered table. Candlelight flickered across the garden. Hera looked regal with a crown of flowers in her hair, smiling up at me with admiring eyes. She played the part so well. Only difference was, these days I didn’t envy her for it. I pitied her. Pretending full-time must be exhausting.

I stood up, clinking my fork against my champagne glass. I had not touched a drop of alcohol throughout the wedding. I was proud of myself. Drinking had been my go-to strategy to survive family functions. Today, I was oddly present. I let myself feel, even when it wasn’t pleasant.

Ransom was sitting across the garden on an antique white bench, casually conversing with a man I was pretty sure was from the CIA. I still couldn’t believe I’d made this man break one of his rules and have sex with me. Kissme. A powerful buzz shot through me.

“Hello, all.” I smiled to the audience, peppering the gesture with a little wave. “Truth is, I’ve had a whole speech prepared and memorized for the occasion, but of course, me being me, now that it’s time to say something, I’m going to take a page out of my eyeliner’s book and just wing it.”

Chuckles erupted from across the table, accompanied by light claps.

I turned to look at Hera, whose tight smile collapsed like a poorly-constructed LEGO tower.

“Hera and Craig, Craig and Hera.” I sighed, knowing how stressed out my sister must be. “So perfectly matched, I couldn’t come up with a more fitting couple even if I tried.”

So far, not even one lie, and a very minimal dose of passive-aggressiveness. I was sure the unhappy couple could read between the lines. My hand shook slightly while clasping the champagne glass when I felt Craig’s eyes burning a hole through my cheek. My gaze stumbled to Ransom on instinct. He gave me a curt nod.

Continue. You are standing up for yourself. Fuck them.

“Hera is a woman of many facets. Daughter, sister, doctor, fiancée, a philanthropist. Craig is…you know, Craig.” I hitched one shoulder up. Everyone laughed, well-aware he was not as decorated and celebrated as my sister. “Some of you may wonder—how does a couple stay together for so long? Fifteen years and counting. People are dynamic. They change, evolve. Well, not these two!” I toasted the champagne glass in the air. “Craig and Hera have stayed exactly the same as they were when they first met. Which is why their relationship works.”

Hera shifted uneasily. Craig wrapped an arm over the back of her chair, shooting my dad an unreadable glare. Maybe he hoped Dad would cut me off. Surprisingly, he didn’t.

“Now, moving on to Craig, my new brother-in-law!” I said cheerfully. “Good ol’ Craig. You think you know him, but trust me, this one is full of surprises.”

Craig flashed a painful smile, nodding along, as if we were good friends. The silence blanketing the tables told me people were starting to catch up on the fact that I wasn’t being necessarily straightforward. I needed to wrap this up quickly.

“When I first saw these two together, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they were truly meant for each other. I believe that’s still the case. Identical dreams and aspirations, not to mention moral compasses, make these two so right for one another. While it is true that I don’t spend much time with them, I can honestly say, every time we are in the same room, it feels like I’ve never left. They sure know how to create an atmosphere.”

Albeit a shitty one.

“Hera and Craig, I wish you a long, continuous marriage, full of headstrong children who mirror you in every way. To Hera and Craig, everybody.” I lifted the glass in the air.

People cheered, clinked their glasses, and drank. I slanted my gaze to my sister and her husband. They both stared at me vacantly, pale and shell-shocked.

“I improvised.” I smiled sweetly at them. “You don’t mind now, do you?”

When the wedding was over, Ransom tucked me in one of the limos heading back to my parents’ mansion. He sat in the corner opposite from me. I raised the partition between us and the driver as soon as we slipped inside, turning to face him.

“You survived,” he observed, flicking cigar ash from the dash of his blazer.

“Trust me, I’m as shocked as you are.” I was so glad we were alone now. He was beginning to feel more and more like home.

“I’m not shocked. You never give yourself any credit.”

“Ransom?”

“That’s my name.”

“I’m going to Los Angeles tomorrow,” I stated, rather than asked, not leaving him much room to object.

He stared at me dispassionately, mulling this over. “Give me a few days.” This time he asked, not stated.

“No.” I erected my spine, taking a deep breath. “I gave you plenty of time. Los Angeles is not going to become safer in the next day or two. I find Texas triggering. I want to put some distance between myself and Hera and Craig. Surely, you can understand that.”

He did. I knew he did, because he rubbed his knuckles against his sharp jaw, hissing in frustration.

“L.A.’s a den of vipers,” he said quietly.

“To me, Texas is worse.”

“Don’t you have friends in New York?” he inquired. “Someone you could visit?”

I smiled, appreciating that he wasn’t fighting me on this. “I don’t have friends anywhere, remember?”

“That’s not true.” He pressed his lips into a hard line. “Now, you have at least one.”

My heart soared in my chest. We shared conspiratorial?grins. This was my chance to talk to him about what had happened between us yesterday. About our night of passion. But there was something so perfect about this moment, the tranquility of it, I didn’t want to ruin it.

Tomorrow, I told myself. Today, you faced the wedding. One battle at a time.

“Proud of you, Princess Thorne.”

“What happened to Brat?” I quirked an eyebrow.

Ransom shook his head. “Hera snatched that title five minutes into our first encounter.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Thief.”