“I had a lot of growing up to do.” I squeezed her hand. “Now I’m ready to start living the rest of my life—the one I should have had all along.”
“I like the sound of that.” Brooke smiled, and I saw a flicker of excitement in her eyes.
I’m going to spend every single day showing you how happy I am that you’re mine.
Epilogue
Brooke
One year later
“We’re almost there…” I looked over at Trent. “You sure you’re ready?”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Trent laughed. “I don’t even know what I’m going to say to Boone.”
“He will just have to accept this.” I held up my hand, which had a diamond I wasn’t wearing when I met him at the beach. “You used to be his best friend. Now you’re going to be his brother-in-law.”
“Yeah, I guess if your dad was willing to give me his blessing instead of saying the idea was bullshit, then Boone has to get on board with it eventually.” Trent reached over and took my hand.
Trent and I had really good year, but I had no idea he was going to propose. I came back to Cabot Beach to visit my family, and he decided to come with me. My family was aware that we were dating, but we decided not to pressure them to let Trent stay at my house during the visit. He had a few unresolved issues he needed to address with his father anyway, and we weren’t sure how long it would be before we came back. What I didn’t know was that Trent met with my parents the day after we arrived, and he asked for their blessing. He proposed to me by the rocks on Cabot Beach where we met after not seeing each other for several years—the first time I got lost in those ocean-blue eyes.
“He’s waiting outside.” I sighed when I turned into my driveway and saw Boone sitting on the front steps of my house. “Should we—go?”
“No, I’ve got to talk to him eventually.” Trent kissed my hand and opened the door.
“Hey there, Runt.” Boone stood up when we approached.
“Hey.” I forced a smile.
“Mind if I have a chat with your boyfriend?” He narrowed his eyes.
“It’s okay.” Trent squeezed my hand.
I’m not so sure about that, but if they’re going to fight, they might as well get it out of their system now—I’d prefer not to have a brawl at my wedding.
I walked inside and nervously glanced out the window. They seemed to be talking. I hoped that was a good sign. I didn’t get to continue watching because my parents came walking into the room with lots of excitement in their eyes. I showed off my ring and hugged them both. I tried to look out the window again, but they pulled me into the dining room, where I quickly realized we were about to have an impromptu engagement party. There was a cake, balloons, and I could smell one of my mother’s famous pork roasts—they obviously knew that Trent was going to propose at the beach and had everything planned.
It’s a good thing I said yes…
“Hey, you remember that night, right?” I heard Boone’s voice echo behind me.
“How could I forget it?” Trent’s voice—followed by laughter.
“Everything is okay?” I turned to them with concern on my face.
“Yeah, Runt. I decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to punch your boyfriend today.” He nudged Trent.
“Technically, he’s my fiancée.” I held up my hand.
“Wow, look at that rock,” Boone grunted and walked up to me. “I’m happy for you, Runt—I really am.”
“Thank you.” I hugged my brother for the first time in more years than I could count.
There was peace in my house. Boone and Trent seemed to have been able to mend their broken fence without any bloodshed. After the roast was finished, Trent told me that his father would be stopping by. Their issues weren’t completely resolved, but they had agreed to put them aside for the time being. The engagement was something everyone close to us wanted to celebrate. Trent had even sent a picture to his mom, and she asked us to stop by her apartment as soon as we got back to New York.
“I never thought I’d be happy to come back to this place.” Trent reached over and squeezed my hand once we were seated at the table.
“Too bad we can’t stay long.” I looked down and sighed. “At least we’ll have plenty of vacation time saved up for the honeymoon.”
“Definitely.” He nodded. “The company will just have to survive without us for a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks?” I raised an eyebrow. “Where are you taking me?”
“That’s a surprise.” He grinned. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Things at work had been going well for both of us. It seemed that Trent was getting a managerial tour of every department in the company, and there were whispers that Trent was being considered for Paul’s job if he was the next person to get an office on the top floor. They had a spot to fill—one that used to belong to Fulton. Nobody knew the full story exactly, but the rumor was that Mel filed a complaint against him after he suggested some quid-pro-quo when she applied for a position in one of the departments he managed. All that we knew for sure was that one day he didn’t show up for work and a couple of days later, his office was completely empty.
I was happy where I was at the company. I got to work on the Gordon Cosmetics account for almost six months, joined a team that was working on a strategy for a few other big accounts, and before I left for vacation, I turned in my resume for the Emerging Leader program. I didn’t know if I would get it after only being with the company for a year, but I wanted them to know I was interested in a leadership position one day. Trent thought it was a good idea for me to get my name out there, even if I didn’t get an offer the first time I applied.
“There’s one thing I miss about Cabot Beach.” Trent walked outside on the porch after our guests were gone and put his arm around me.
“What’s that?” I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“You don’t get sunsets like this in the city.” He kissed my forehead.
“No, but I’m happy with any sunset as long as I’m with you.” I smiled and snuggled in his arms.
“I love you, Brooke.” He moved a hand down to mine. “I hope I get to see a million of them in your eyes.”
“I love you too.” I lifted up, and our lips met.
I’d watch them anywhere with you…
Forbidden Kiss
Taylor
“How does my dress look?” I turned around to check myself in the mirror and adjusted a couple of wrinkles in the fabric.
“It looks fine.” My younger sister, Anna, looked up from her book for a moment and shrugged. “Why do you care anyway? It’s not like you’re going to buy anything.”
“I want to blend in with the crowd—the best way to do that is to look like I belong there.” My shoulders slumped forward, and I sighed.
I totally don’t look like I belong there.
There was an art auction—technically, it was just a preview show for the art that was going to be auctioned so potential bidders could figure out what they wanted to bid on before the actual auction took place. Every year, Wellington’s gave a few tickets to the art department at Carson Cove University so that a few students could come to the art show. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity for most students because very few of us were ever going to have the kind of wealth required to get a real invitation.
I didn’t expect to actually win when I entered my name in the raffle, but luck was on my side—the fact that I bought twenty raffle tickets might have had something to do with it too. It was my senior year of college, and my last chance to attend the art show, so I decided to take a risk. Thankfully, it paid off.
“Have you seen my crimson-sin lipstick?” I picked up my makeup bag and started digging through it.
“Why would you ask me?” Anna looked up from her book again. “If anyone in this house is borrowing your lipstick, it’s not me. Mom was talking about lipstick a few days ago when she was getting ready for her date w
ith Brad—or was it, Steve?”
“Right…” I nodded and made a beeline for my mother’s bedroom.
Anna would rather die than wear lipstick.
My mom had been raiding my makeup since she decided that it was time to start dating again. I couldn’t say much—I did the same thing to her when I first started wearing it. I still hadn’t adjusted to the fact that my mom was going on dates with someone other than my dad, but he was the one that left, so I couldn’t say much about it. At least someone in the house was getting some action. I was too busy with school to have a boyfriend, and Anna was technically old enough to start dating if she wanted to, but she always had her nose in a book. I’m wasn’t sure she would even notice if a guy hit on her.
“Ah, there it is.” I found my crimson-sin lipstick sitting on my mother’s vanity—it was a stark contrast to the boring shades she usually wore.
Anna didn’t look up at me when I walked back into my bedroom and started applying my lipstick. I had no idea why she even bothered to hang out in my room anymore—it used to our tradition after school every day, but it had been a long time since we shared any common interests. Our age difference had a lot to do with it. She was barely sixteen, and I was twenty-three. I hated that we had drifted apart, but our lives were in different places. I was focused on graduating, finding a real job, and getting my own place. She was trying to survive high school, and if there was anything else going on, she didn’t talk to me about it. The divorce seemed to impact her more than it did me. I was old enough to realize that the relationship was broken before our dad left, but she was still young and naive.
“Alright, I don’t know when I’ll be back—don’t wait up.” I tried some humor to see if I could get a smile out of my little sister.
“I never do.” She looked up and rolled her eyes—but there was no smile.
Oh well, I tried…
The art show was being held at Wellington’s Museum downtown, which was about thirty minutes away from my house. I waited for my phone to connect to the car so I would have some music for my drive and skipped over a couple of Ariana Grande songs so that I could listen to my latest jam, Old Town Road by Lil Nas X. I started singing along as I drove through the streets of the Mandalay Subdivision. I didn’t live in the richest part of Carson Cove by any means, but my neighborhood was picture-perfect suburbia with well-manicured lawns and flower beds everywhere.
I always thought I would leave Carson Cove behind when it was time for me to go to college, but money got tight after my parents divorced. Living at home and attending Carson Cove University was the best option for everyone—I certainly didn’t want to drown myself in student loans and work two jobs on top of going to school.
Getting a chance to go to the art show is a definite perk of staying behind—I wouldn’t have gotten an opportunity like this if I moved to New York like I planned.
The drive was rather peaceful. There weren’t that many cars on the road since it was the weekend, and it was late afternoon, so most of the people my age hadn’t begun their weekend debauchery. I didn’t have any bad intentions on my agenda for the weekend, and I rarely mixed it up with the people my age who thought they ran the town on Friday and Saturday night. I didn’t have Carson Cove privilege as some people referred to it—that basically meant you were filthy rich and not afraid to flaunt it.
There would be plenty of people at the auction with Carson Cove privilege, and my only goal for the evening was blending in so that I didn’t look like an unprivileged member of the middle class. I wasn’t ashamed of being unprivileged, but it would be nice to have one evening where I didn’t get slapped in the face by it.
Tonight, I’m not simple little Taylor Abernathy from Mandalay—I’m just a girl in a black dress who enjoys art—standing next to people who could buy every piece with a wave of their hand.
* * *
One hour later
The art show was set up in sections where you could browse based on the price range, and there was an area with an open bar and some snacks I would have never purchased on my own, for those who were just there to socialize. Like most gatherings in Carson Cove, it was more important for people to know they were getting something expensive than to just enjoy it, so there was a card explaining why everything you could have was special. The liquor they were serving was a step above top shelf, the wine was older than anyone in the room, and the snacks were ridiculously expensive.
I learned that it was possible to spend five-hundred dollars for a pound of cheese and while it wasn’t bad, it didn’t taste that good. Even the crackers were from a premium bakery that boasted about using water you could only get a certain time of day from a special spring that was supposedly prehistoric with rich deposits of Tanzanite at the bottom. The crackers didn’t taste any different than the generic ones my mom bought at the grocery store, but the people around me acted like they were sampling manna from heaven.
I guess I’ll get a glass of wine—it’s not like I’ll ever get to drink anything this expensive again.
The only good thing about the exotic food and drink selection was that nobody seemed to notice an unprivileged in their ranks. I was completely ignored for the most part. I started walking through the gallery and immediately wished it was socially acceptable to take pictures because some of the paintings that were being auctioned were exquisite.
I might not have had the means to hang one of them in my home, but I loved art. I got that from my parents—they were both artists when they were younger, and several of our family vacations were conveniently scheduled around art shows at the destination they chose. That part of our family dynamic never rubbed off on my sister, and she normally complained when our vacation took a detour towards a museum, but I couldn’t have been happier.
My parents would love to be here right now—they might even be civil to each other while they were looking at all of these pieces of art.
I spent some time looking through the gallery while I sipped my wine, and by the time I got to the end of the first section, I decided that I wanted a refill. I hated to admit that it was the best wine I had ever tasted, although my palate was inexperienced. There were more people near the open bar than there were when I got my first glass of wine, so I had to wait my turn to get served. I tried to pretend that I was a statue that only got to take a step when the person in front of me did. I was nothing more than an image against the backdrop—a nameless face in the crowd. I hoped to stay that way for the rest of the night.
The glamorous, beautiful, and drop-dead gorgeous Carson Cove privileged were all around me, and I was extremely uncomfortable. As soon as my glass was refilled, I scooted over to the side to look for an opening, so I could disappear into the gallery. I must have blended in so well that the privileged thought I was literally part of the scenery because two women walked over and stood directly in front of me to sip their wine while they gossiped about the other guests. I wasn’t sure if they cared that someone was behind them or were just so caught up in their own conversation that they didn’t notice—I couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
“Did you hear that Jon and Mary Alcott are getting a divorce?” The woman on the left, a blonde in a Versace dress, leaned close to the brunette beside her. “They’re here together, but this may be the last event in Carson Cove that they attend as a couple.”
“Then I guess they won’t be buying anything.” The brunette hid her laugh behind her wine glass. “Unless they plan to take a pair of scissors to it when they split everything.”
“She’ll probably get custody of the kids and take him to the cleaners.” The blonde shrugged. “He won’t have much of anything after she’s done with him.
“I’ll mark him off my list of future ex-husbands.” The brunette grinned and sipped her wine.
“Speaking of—do you have any leads?” The blonde gave her friend a side-eyed glance. “I never thought I’d see the day Alexis Devereaux was celebrating the anniversary of her last divorce without an engagement r
ing on her finger.”
Oh my god! That’s Alexis Devereaux? I need to get the hell away from here—asap! She is not someone I want to be associated with by accident.
“I’ve got my eye on someone.” Alexis winked at the blonde. “I might even have our first date lined up before the end of the show—which means the countdown to taking him for half of everything he owns can officially begin.”
“Cheers to that.” The blonde tapped her wine glass against the one that Alexis was holding.
Alexis Devereaux was a Carson Cove legend. There were a lot of rumors about her, and most of them probably weren’t true, but one of them appeared to be—if she was single, she was on the prowl. She had two ex-husbands before she was thirty and had recently divorced the third—people said it was messy. I had no idea how men kept falling into her trap—okay, scratch that—I knew exactly why men kept falling into her trap. She was privileged and gorgeous. That was the perfect combination in Carson Cove, but it helped if you had a side of wicked, and Alexis Devereaux definitely had that.
Oh, thank god. They’re going to get more wine.
I watched as Alexis Devereaux and her blonde friend walked towards the bar—then darted into the gallery. I had already looked at the first section, so I started walking through the second one. I went slow and savored all of the artwork I would never see again. Once the auction was complete, it would be in the home of a privileged family from Carson Cove, and it was rare for them to part with anything—except spouses. I drained my glass of wine fairly quick once I started walking around, but I decided that two was more than enough. I still had to drive home after the show was over. I finished with the second section, moved on to the third, and when I was done with that, it was time to see some of the most expensive pieces that would be auctioned off.
Monet. Rembrandt. Picasso. Van Gogh. Oh my god—is that a real Michelangelo!?
Hatefully Yours Page 21
