Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I lay in a bed that wasn’t mine and stared at the ceiling, stewing in my own anger. This time, I’d chosen the furthest guest room from the stairs, not the one I usually occupied, hoping the sound of other people’s happiness wouldn’t reach me.
But it did.
It did, and it seared my soul.
Alone, alone, alone.
Everything reminded me of that simple fact.
Here was the thing about loneliness—there’s no such thing as a loner. Only someone who has tried to give others a chance and ended up thoroughly disappointed.
Burrowing deeper under the covers, I grabbed my phone and started watching old YouTube videos of my fencing matches. Mainly to spot Dad in the first row, cheering me on.
Andras always urged me to study my weaknesses. That my path to the Olympics required discipline and humility.
I still didn’t know if I’d ever make it.
It seemed unlikely, considering my past.
Yet, fencing made me truly happy. I would hate to let Andras down. Plus, the only time my mind shut off was on the piste.
And while getting impaled by a broody billionaire in a sauna.
A soft knock rapped on the door. I shot upright, the duvet rolling down my lap.
Maybe I hadn’t heard right? Why would Zach seek me out in the middle of his party?
I stared at the door.
The knock sounded again, this time louder.
I cleared my throat. “Yes?”
A sweet, feminine voice seeped through the door. “Farrow?”
Dallas Costa.
“Yeah.”
“Can I come in?”
Why?
“Sure…?”
The door crept open. Dallas waddled in, about a hundred centuries pregnant, clad in a shimmery gold A-line dress with a sweetheart neckline.
Her boobs were out of control. I doubted even the US military could wrestle them into submission.
She used what appeared to be a forty-thousand-dollar check to fan her face.
“Thank God, I found you.” With her other hand, she shoved a tray full of enough food to feed the entire neighborhood my way, cannonballing onto the bed beside me. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I went through every single guest room. How many are there here?”
“Thirteen.” And I’d slacked off on cleaning each and every one of them today. “Plus, a dumbwaiter leading to a secret cellar. I don’t clean that one, though. Can’t run the risk of finding the remains of people Zach has killed for mispronouncing Latin words or miscalculating his tax returns.”
“Oh, he does his own tax returns.” She waved a hand. “It’s like a hobby for him. A way to unwind. Kind of like sudoku or six-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzles.”
I studied her with a tilt of my head, still confused. “Why are you here?”
Translation: If someone made a mess downstairs that needs urgent cleaning, I might strangle them.
I was off-duty. It was almost eight-thirty.
“What do you mean, why? Isn’t it obvious?” She treated herself to a sponge cake off the tray, her light eyes twinkling with warmth. “Everyone else downstairs is a total bore.”
I bit down a smile.
I really liked Dallas, even if I felt like I shouldn’t.
Everyone in town knew she’d grown up rich. That she spent summers in Europe, waltzed at balls in Georgia, and rubbed elbows with people whose annual tax returns I couldn’t count the zeros on.
She had every opportunity to be exactly like Tabby and Reggie—a rich, spoiled brat. We shared nothing in common—no mutual interests, friends, likes, and dislikes.
And yet, I knew a loyal friend when I stumbled upon one.
Dallas reached for a donut hole, popping it inside her mouth. “The way you answered that dudebro at dinner the other day? Legendary. Finding women with a spine on this side of the river is hard. It’s like Air Force One flew by and sucked the personality out of everyone.”
“Thanks.” I regarded her with interest, still puzzled, and pointed at the tray at my hip. “Is this for me?”
Dallas released a joyous, addictive laugh. “Oh, yes.”
I admired the rays of sunshine emanating from her.
She struck me as the kind of person who could burn down the entire place if you rubbed her the wrong way, but also light up a room.
I dug her vibe.
She snuck another pastry. “I figured I’d make you a sample platter with all the stuff worthy of eating. I took it upon myself to test everything first. True friend, or what?”
“Total bestie,” I murmured.
“I’m a ride-or-die kind of chick.” She grabbed her tiny Hermès purse and tugged something out of it. “Hey, I made us those friendship bracelets.” A small plastic bag landed on my lap. She dangled an identical one, the beaded circle waving as she jiggled it. “No judgment, please. Being heavily pregnant is super boring. I had to cancel bungee jumping in New Zealand last week. Can you believe how overprotective Rom is?”
A small smile played on my lips. “Unheard of.”
I couldn’t believe she’d made me laugh on a day I felt so freaking sorry for myself.
When I didn’t make a move, she snatched the bag from me, pulled out the purple-green Swiftie bracelet (she’d remembered our conversation), and slid it up my wrist, thrusting hers beside me.