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)
Ari peeled herself from me, giving Dallas a once-over. “Girl, I’m sure you’ve experienced plenty of positions to get to where you are today.”
Dallas ran a palm over her very pregnant belly. “You have no idea.”
“No, but I want to hear all about it.”
After more squealing and giggling, Ari and Dallas retired to the cabin while I took a lengthy shower, washed and blow-dried my hair, and shrugged on skintight jeans and a designer hoodie Dallas had picked out for me.
The clothes came with a note:
Not every girl wants a dress to feel pretty.
Some dazzle with combat boots and a sword.
One of them has even become my dear friend.
Happy Birthday, F. <3
— Dal
When I finished, the plane was already preparing for landing. Soon enough, the girls and I spilled out onto the tarmac, where a uniformed driver ushered us to Angelo’s.
“Only the best Italian restaurant in NYC.” Dallas kicked her feet up in the back of the limo. “And I’ve been to all of them.”
Ari and Frankie laughed.
Dallas didn’t, staring at my best friend, serious as a heart attack. “I’m not joking. Did you know there are twenty-four hundred? And that doesn’t include the underground ones.”
Ari’s smile disappeared. She elbowed me on a whisper, “Where did you find this chick?”
“At a dinner party.” I shrugged, grinning at Dallas. “Where else?”
After a seven-course meal, during which I ate enough for the entire nation of Belgium, we grabbed cocktails at a nearby bar. Frankie flashed her fake ID and bought us five rounds.
“How can you afford this?” Dallas stared her sister down. “I thought Daddy confiscated your credit card after you bought a small island for service dogs to retire on.”
“Can you believe the lack of altruism from him?” Frankie rolled her eyes, knocking back a fruity cocktail. “Those dogs have done more for our country than most politicians.”
“I’ll ask again, Sis. How can you afford this?”
“Oh, Oliver gave me two of his Amex cards. Such a gem.”
Dallas choked on her mocktail. “You two are in contact?”
“No.” Frankie giggled, like the answer was obvious. “I texted him that I need to borrow a card or two, and he sent them to me with a courier.”
“Frankie, credit cards are not a cocktail dress. You can’t borrow them.”
“Of course, I can. How do you think I’ve been funding my life for the past three weeks?”
By the time we reached Broadway to catch a show, we weren’t pleasantly drunk—we were completely hammered.
“What are we watching?” I hiccuped, swaying inside Dallas’ arms.
She’d knocked back non-alcoholic margaritas while we got sloshed, periodically glaring at her mocktails and hissing out, “How ironic it is that pregnant women can only have virgin drinks?”
“Cinderella.” Frankie spun around, her ’50s dress blooming like a flower. “It’s a limited four-week run. Isn’t it great?”
Isn’t it fitting? I corrected to myself.
No matter how hard I tried to run away from the comparison, it always boomeranged back to me.
Ari pulled me from Dallas to make sure I didn’t squash her, coiling my arm over her shoulder to carry me into the hall. Theater-goers weaved in and out of the building.
We found our seats and fell into them in fits of unexplained snickers. Frankie and Ari even produced a small tiara from a designer bag and placed it on my head.
The show was incredible. I had to keep myself from crying through most of it.
And when we escaped into the prickly early winter night, all I could think about was that Dallas was right.
Sometimes you have to write your own story to get your happy ending.
“So.” Ari pressed her shoulder to mine, deliberately walking faster than the Townsend sisters to lose them. “What’s going on with Zach?”
“We’re fooling around while he’s engaged.” I barely mustered the energy to tip a shoulder up. “So, you know, pretty messed up.”
“Dallas says he’s your puppy.” Ari scanned my face. “That he follows you around and stabs anyone who dares to get near you.”
“Ha.”
“Does this mean he pees himself a little every time he sees you?”
“Hope not. I’m in charge of his laundry, too.”
I had no idea where we were going, and I was beginning to understand that it didn’t matter.
Sooner or later, a limo would appear out of thin air and scoop us all to a boutique airport, where we’d fly back home on a luxurious plane that looked like a Manhattan bachelor pad.
That was the reality of Dallas Costa, the most charmed girl in all of America.
“He wants me,” I admitted, feeling my throat squeezing around an invisible ball of anxiety. “But he wants to please his mother even more. This has no legs.”
But it had a heart and a soul, and that scared me.
I didn’t tell my best friend why Zachary Sun was so enchanted with me.
That something had made him a human-fearing heathen.
That I was his only shot at salvation, even though I had no idea what had made him this way.