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“I know.” I arched an eyebrow. The Keurig behind me kicked to life, groaning as it began brewing my coffee. “You’re advocating for him now?”
“He may have screwed up my chance to be a Massey Suites heir, but hedidcall dibs first.”
Again with the dibs. This time, though, I frowned for a different reason. “He said you called dibs.”
“The Christmas party. The one I said I saw you at. I didn’t spot you first; Sumner did.” He said the words like he thought they’d shock me. They might’ve, but I kept it hidden, maintaining my poker face. “I attended with my mother, and he came with me as my secretary. He said you were beautiful. We were introduced to your mother before we had to leave, and she may have mentioned that you were the sole heir to the family fortune, and—well, that piqued my interest.”
“You’re a crappy friend,” I said without hesitation.
“I never said I was a good one.”
For a moment, we sat there in his ugly honesty, and I had the strangest urge to laugh. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, to find amusement in such a situation. Aaronwasa bad friend, but couldn’t have been the worst if he was here, admitting defeat and talking on his friend’s behalf. He had nothing to gain from this. He could’ve cut his losses and returned to California, leaving a broken mess in his wake, but he tried his hand at picking up a few of the pieces.
Aaron Astor absolutely sucked, but perhaps he had one redeeming quality.
My coffee finished brewing, the scent beautiful in the air, and Aaron’s eyes flickedto it. For a moment, I thought he was about to ask for a cup for himself, but he ended up pushing from the table. “You should call him,” he said, tapping his knuckles before rising to his full height. “He’s at the hotel in Bayview.”
“Bayview?”
“Your parents kicked him out of hiscomplimentary suite, and my family took our lodging elsewhere until we fly out tomorrow.” Aaron flapped his hand in the air. “It was all very dramatic.”
I gripped the mug tightly, the heat from the ceramic burning my palms, but I didn’t let go. “Yesterday really was a disaster, wasn’t it?”
He smiled. “But a fun one.”
“Despite everything, you’resmiling?”
“Life’s short. I’ll just move onto the next pretty girl who’s set to inherit a fortune.”
I opened my mouth to say some unkind things, but Aaron held his hands up to keep me from scolding him, heading toward the front door. This time, I was the one trailing after him, still yet to take a sip of my coffee. “It was nice to meet you,” he said as he stepped out onto her porch. “More fun than I anticipated.”
I didn’t say anything in response, but stepped up to the door and peered at him through the screen. A strange feeling stirred in my chest, one that ultimately had me speaking. “I would’ve married you,” I called after him, clutching my cup tighter. Aaron slowed until he halted, but he didn’t turn around. “If it’d been you who came out first. If you were the one who bothered to put in the barest bit of effort instead of sending Sumner.”
It was true, I knew. Without Sumner,I’d never have known the feeling ofwhat if. At the very least, I never would’ve been brave enough to pursue it.Happiness is better, Sumner had said to me, and it’d never been something I’d thought before. Without him, I never would’ve known how important it was to choose happiness.
Aaron turned around. He had his hand in the pocket of his chinos, looking like the picture of nonchalance, even now. Nothing fazed him, it seemed. Not even this. “I wouldn’t have done it,” he replied simply. “I would never have come myself.”
You were never worth it enough to come myself. That’s what the word said, their hidden meaning too obvious to miss. I looked down at my bare feet as a rueful smile twisted my lips, not watching as he retreated to Ms. Jennings’s vehicle. This would be the last time I ever saw him, surely. There’d be no more Aaron Astor hanging over my head, no more worrying about marrying a man I’d never love. That chapter, that fear, was closed and put to rest.
Not a single regret.With that peaceful thought in mind, I shut the door and flipped the lock.
CHAPTER THIRTY
My phone was dead, and even after I charged it, the screen greeted me with the telltale sign of discontinued cell service. My parents, in less than twenty-four hours, cut it off. They’d followed through on the threat I always knew they’d carry out, and they’d done so swiftly.
I knew I should’ve felt something at theno datasignal. It was a symbolic way of realizing that contact with them was fully cut off.
But the truth was that though they were technically the people who gave birth to me, they were never there for me in the way a true parent should’ve been. They barely paid attention to me growing up, shipped me off to boarding school until the ninth grade. I couldn’t think of a single time they’d bought me a birthday cake. They were never parents; we were never a family.
The only reason the phone weighed heavily in my hand now was that I knew life was about to become hard. Very hard. And, in that moment, I was alone.
But not for long.
“I can’t believe I still remember your number,” I said into the cordless landline, cradling it between my shoulder and my cheek as I attempted to calm my hair into a somewhat “I’m at Nancy’s. Come pick me up?”
And just an hour later, there was a sharp knock at the front door. This time, I knew the visitor would be a welcome one. When I hauled it open, I found Destelle standing on the other side, her curls loose and wild. She didn’t even miss a beat. “You’re crazy,” she said emphatically, shoving past me and entering Nancy’s home. “Insane. Normally, I’d love that for you—you know I like it when you let your wild side show a little—but you’re crazy.”
I shut the door behind her. “I do have my moments.”