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Caroline picked up her fork and tapped it against her lips. “That makes even more sense, then.”
“What does?”
“Why Annalise suggested Fiona to him instead of me. He probably told Annalise everything, don’t you think? It makes sense—she thought she was protecting me from him.” Caroline lifted her glass to her already stained lips, gaze drifting faraway. “Maybe I should marry him. If I knowhis motives, does it matter?”
I frowned as I waited for her punchline, and several seconds of silence passed before I realized there wasn’t one. “I just told you he was only going after Fiona for her money.”
“I’m a lot nicer than Fiona.”
“Fiona isn’t the problem here.”
Caroline readjusted how she sat on the floor, tucking her long legs underneath her. “I never understood how Margot fumbled Aaron. She chose her secretary boyfriend instead. I mean, I kinda get it. He was hot, but, like…why?”
The dots were still not connecting in my mind, and they clearly weren’t connecting in hers, either. “Because… Aaron is a gold digger.”
“A rich one.”
“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” I was only half joking. “I said his parents disowned him.”
Caroline loosely pointed a finger at me. “They didn’t disown him; theycut him off. It’s different. No parent is going to toss their child out of their lives.”
What about the Masseys?I thought, but didn’t say.
“And they cut him offfor now. To teach him priorities. Once he’s married, once they have a grandbaby on the way? They’ll make sure he’s comfortable again.” Her eyes gleamed. “Besides, what does it matter? They can cut him off, but his last name is still Astor.”
I sat back as she continued, the wine all at once making my head feel as though it’d been stuffed with cotton. When we were one-on-one, it wasn’t often that the divide between us was that noticeable. Yes, she had more expensive things than me, clothing and jewelry wise. Yes, she had more importance at the club. But for the most part, our viewpoints over the years never felt too vastly dissimilar.
Until right now, and I was reminded how wide the gap between us truly was.
“You don’t want to marry for love?” I asked softly.
“I haven’t been in love in twenty-six years.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Even Derek, he was…ugh. I’m too independent for love. I’d rather have a partner who lets me live my life. I’m not a hopeless romantic like you are, Lovey.” She swirled her wine in her glass, and before she took another drink, a few blended words slipped out. “Maybe it’s a Holland thing. Maybe we can’t love. My parents are the same way.”
“You can try. But not with Aaron.” I pictured her hanging off his arm, him giving her his soft smile. The image was justwrong, wrong, wrong.“You need to find someone else willing to try.”
“We’re from the same world, he and I. We could make it work.”
Until that moment, I’d been able to convince myself that it was the wine talking, tipsy rambling that she wouldn’t even remember in the morning. She held the rope of the conversation too tightly, though. In the haze behind her eyes, there was the steely determination of her stubbornness. Normally, I only saw it in the context of her fighting for the latest pair of Claire Hautes when the shop dropped online pre-orders. To see it now, over something like this, caused a stone to roll over my chest.
We’re from the same world, he and I, were the words she said.You’re not one of us, were the words she didn’t say, but meant all the same.
“You don’t want to marry him,” I said finally. “You only want him because Fiona wants him.”
Caroline pulled back an inch as my words hit her, and for a moment, I thought I’d finally done it. I’d cracked the surface. “That’s not true,” she said, but her tone lacked the conviction they’d held before.
“Care, he’s not even yourtype. You like buff body-builder guys.”
She looked away from me. “Aaron has muscles.”
“Last time, you said he was too scrawny.”
“I mean, he’s notthatscrawny?—”
“And no facial hair. Didn’t you say that men with no facial hair always look too young to you?” I tried to sound stern and sympathetic while also enunciating my words through the wine fog. “You don’t want to be with Aaron Astor. You want to be withsomeone.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Doyouwant to be with him or something?”
“No!”