by Diana Seere
“I’m not angry at him.”
“You seem angry,” Molly said.
“I’m angry at his family. They’ve done something to him and now he’s… I don’t know what. That’s why I’m a little tiny bit annoyed.”
“Yeah, you were such a little bit annoyed, I was afraid you were going to smash cake into Asher’s face,” Molly said.
“I wasn’t sitting anywhere near Asher.”
Molly laughed and took another drink. “You were glaring at him like you had laser beams in your eyeballs. I thought he was going to burst into smoke.”
“Like the demon he is,” Jess muttered.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never spent much time with him. He doesn’t visit the club very often.”
“Take it from me. He’s bad news.”
“And now he’s part of your family,” Molly said.
Jess finished her drink and held it out for a refill. “Let’s not talk. Let’s just drink.”
Shrugging, Molly poured and fell silent. Jess stared at the painting, searching for a signature. Did Derry sign his work, or was he so private that he left them anonymous? Unwillingly, she wondered if he had slept with every model, or painted every lover, if he displayed his favorites in his bedroom so that he could relive his happiest, most sensual moments?
Would she have to make love to him with other women looking on?
“… and the sister, the fat blonde,” a man’s voice said, carrying over the crackling of the fire, “she’s another gold digger.”
Molly and Jess locked eyes on one another, both instantly on the alert. Jess felt her face start to burn. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
“A social climber,” the man’s voice continued. He was the kind of man to talk high and loud, as if he were on stage and doing everyone a favor by projecting his voice into the far corners of the room. Like manspreading on the subway, only with his mouth. “Just saw her on campus, trying to suck up to my prof for a job. She’s not really a student, of course. Just wants people to think she is.”
Hand shaking, Jess set down her glass. Otherwise, she might’ve snapped its delicate stem in her grip.
Archibald Rumsey. Here. The bastard was here at the wedding, only several feet away. First at Professor Jane Lethbridge’s office at Harvard, now here.
His father was a senator in this state. The Stantons must’ve felt obligated to invite their family.
Another man asked, “She thought she could seduce her?”
Archie laughed. “Professor Lethbridge has been known to swing both ways, but she’d never touch that townie cow. No, the bitch probably just wanted to say she ‘went’ to Harvard. You know how it is.”
His companion made a grunt of agreement. “You called her a gold digger. I thought she’d hit on your professor.”
“I’d love to see her try. Even if she dropped fifty pounds, Lethbridge would never stoop to that level. The girl was grateful to be invited to a pig party. I would know. I’m the one who invited her.”
The other guy grunted like a real pig. “Come on.”
“No shit. Today’s maid of honor, the bride’s sister, now the legal sister-in-law to the obscenely rich asshole Gavin Stanton, was my date to my frat’s pig party a few years ago,” Archie said. “She had no fucking idea. She actually thought I found her attractive. That I would bring her to a real party where other guys would see her with me.”
“Well, it’s not like she’s ugly,” his companion said. “I mean, she’s kind of pretty, you’ve got to admit. Like you’ve always said about pig parties, I’m not particular.”
Jess’s entire body flushed like ice water being pumped into her veins. Archie had said that the night he humiliated her. She was reliving every painful second.
“That’s what a billion dollars can do for a girl,” Archie said. “I’m sure the makeover cost a fortune. But it won’t last. How could it?”
The other man didn’t seem to agree, which obviously annoyed Archie. Raising his voice, he went on with even more malice. “They’re cocktail waitresses, the both of them. What the hell is Stanton thinking? I mean, fuck her if you must, but… marry?” He snorted. “I hope he’s got an ironclad prenup, the stupid bastard.”
“You might want to keep your voice down, Arch. His family’s all over this place. Your dad’s a senator, but you’re not. They’ll kick your skinny ass out of here if you keep talking like that.”
“The fuck they will. I’m friends with the best man,” Archie said, laughing again.
Jess put her fist over her stomach, afraid she was going to throw up.
“Which one was that? I kind of dozed off during the ceremony.”
“Dozed, my ass,” Archie said. “You were still drunk from last night. Lucky for you the fake snow woke you up before you passed out in the aisle.”
“I was not drunk. I was hungover.”
“Same difference.” Archie was getting impatient with his companion’s change of subject. “I’m talking about the big guy, Derry. Gavin’s brother. Now he’s a man who knows how to have a good time. You’re not going to see him stupid enough to let a fat waitress tie him down.”
“I wouldn’t mind letting that one tie me down for a little while,” the guy said.
Archie groaned in disgust. “Not you too. You are drunk.”
“Now I am,” the man agreed. “Not letting expensive booze go to waste. But I wasn’t earlier.”
“Shut up and listen to me. I’m telling you something.”
“When aren’t you?”
“Derry Stanton was there,” Archie said. “That’s what I was trying to get through that thick, proletariat, alcoholic brain of yours.”
“Of course he was there, he’s the best man.”
“Not the wedding, you stupid fuck. The pig party. At the frat house that night.” Archie let out his breath, satisfied at finally delivering his bombshell. “And here he has to walk around with her all weekend, pretending he didn’t remember how much fun we’d had with her a few years ago.”
“Man, that’s awkward.”
“He doesn’t care. He slipped away with some hot chick or two before things got messy at the party,” Archie said. “Hold on, there he is. You’ve got to meet this guy. Hang out with him and you’re sure to get laid.”
“He’s cute, but I’m not interested,” the man said. There was a thump and a shout. “Hey, you spilled my drink.”
“You were being an idiot,” Archie said. He raised his already-loud voice to a bellow. “Derry! Derry Stanton! Over here!”
“Dude, you’re hurting my ears.”
“Shut up and act cool,” Archie said. “He’ll know which girls are extra fuckable. You don’t want to go to bed alone tonight, do you?”
“I’m kind of tired—”
“Derry!” Archie shouted again.
The man groaned.
Jess felt a sharp pain on her wrist and realized it was Molly, gripping her arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
In a daze, Jess shook her head and removed Molly’s fingers. She had to know it all. She had to. And besides, they couldn’t get away without walking right by Archie and his drunk, slightly less hateful pal.
“Good evening,” came Derry’s voice, cheerful and sociable. “I trust you fine men are having a good time?”
Jess closed her eyes and began to tremble. Derry, so close. And he didn’t sound like he was faking his happiness or his enjoyment of the evening. Wherever he’d been, whatever he’d been doing, he’d loved it.
“Derry, it’s been too long,” Archie said. “Remember your old pal, Archie Rumsey? And here’s my associate, Benjamin Tanner. He’s a stupid fuck but not too bad.”
Jess held her breath.
“Of course I remember you, my fine man,” Derry said with loud enthusiasm. He knew him. It was true. “Pleasure to meet you, Benjamin Tanner. You might want to talk to Archie about his introductions.”
“I’m used to it,” Benjamin said.
“
Beautiful day, isn’t it? I trust you’re having a lovely time,” Derry said.
“We sure are, Der,” Archie said. “As I’m sure you are.”
Derry’s voice warmed. “I certainly am,” he said, chuckling. “The finest of my life. And that’s saying something.”
The other men guffawed. Jess’s blood drained out of her body. She waited, cold and stiff as ice, to learn the truth about the man she thought she loved.
“I was just telling Benji about that party a few years ago,” Archie said. “You must remember that one, at my frat? With the girls?”
“How could I forget? You college men certainly know how to have a good time. Shame so many of you forget how to enjoy yourselves after you graduate,” Derry said. “Not a mistake I’ve ever made, thank God. Which is why you excellent fellows must excuse me. I’ve got a lady waiting for me and too little time to prepare for her.”
Jess put a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry.
Archie laughed. “Hear that, Benji? I told you. Any chance we could—”
“Find me at the Plat back in Boston sometime,” Derry said, his voice drifting away. “We’ll catch up. Bring your friend.”
“I’ll do that,” Archie called after him. Then, “Shit, he’s already got some pussy waiting for him. We’ll have to catch him earlier next time, see if he’ll share. Last time I saw him, he had four strippers on a trampoline. The man knows how to live.”
“What’s the Plat?” Benjamin asked. His voice came from a distance. They were leaving.
“My club in Boston,” Archie said. “Very exclusive. I’ll take you…”
As his words faded away, Jess got to her feet, her legs trembling. “Derry was at the party,” she whispered.
“He was just being polite,” Molly said. “I doubt he even remembered those guys.”
“He didn’t deny it. And Archie wasn’t making it up. He was proud of it.” Jess’s hands clenched into fists. “He was there. All this time, I thought he was…” She’d thought he was different. She’d thought he was better than the Archibald Rumseys of the world. But he wasn’t.
He was the same.
No. He was worse. He hadn’t only taken her to a party, he’d taken her to bed. He hadn’t only taken her pride, he’d taken her heart.
The Champagne roiled in her gut. “I’m going to be sick.”
“You need some fresh air,” Molly said, grabbing her elbow and pulling her around the fireplace to a pair of French doors overlooking the deck.
Teeth clenched, Jess cast a sideways glance at the room as she let Molly pull her outside. No sign of Archie, his friend, or Derry.
No doubt he was having a wonderful time somewhere. A fucking wonderful time.
“Come on, let’s walk,” Molly said. “Breathe, Jess. Breathe.”
The sun was setting behind the mountains, casting the lake into shadow. A film of ice and a dusting of snow had formed on its surface. Jess’s nausea was fading, but crippling shame was taking its place. “I’ve been such a fool.”
“We can’t get to our rooms without walking by a bunch of people,” Molly said. “How about those little houses near the pool? Isn’t your mom staying in one of those?”
“Yeah, but it’ll be locked.”
“Why would it be locked? This isn’t a hotel. The Stantons would make sure her spot was safe.” Molly pulled her along the path. “Is that one hers? She was telling me about how cute it was.”
“Yes, that’s it, but—”
“The light is on.” Molly dragged her over to the door and knocked. “You can be alone here for a minute until you feel—” Just as she was reaching for the handle, the door swung open to reveal Marilyn.
The sight of her mother’s kind, loving face unraveled Jess completely. “Oh, Mom,” she said, reaching out for her.
“What’s the matter? What—”
Not able to speak, Jess clung to her and inhaled her familiar scent. Tears that she’d held inside since first hearing Archie’s horrible voice now poured out of her.
As she sobbed, she heard Molly say, “Derry.”
“I knew it,” Marilyn said, holding her tightly. Her hand came down on Jess’s head, stroking her hair as she made soothing noises. “Thanks for bringing her to me.”
“I thought she might just need a minute to get away from everything.”
“I’m glad I was here. I had to change my shoes. They were beautiful, but I was silly to think I could wear them for more than an hour. Come in.” Marilyn drew Jess inside, wiped her tears with her thumbs, and led her over to the sofa. “Let it out, baby. Just let it out.”
“He was there, Mom. At that… party. The p-p—” Jess couldn’t make herself say it. Overwhelmed with old, hot humiliation, she began to cry again. “That party. And tonight he disappeared, and I’m pretty sure… you know…”
“Which party?” Marilyn asked. When Jess didn’t explain, she turned to Molly.
“Something at Harvard a few years ago?” Molly replied uncertainly.
“Oh no,” Marilyn said. She’d been the one to drive Jess home that night. Her hysterical, nonverbal, broken daughter. “No,” she said again, this time with steel in her voice.
“What happened?” Molly asked. She lowered her voice. “Was she assaulted?”
“Emotionally, yes. Absolutely she was.” Marilyn gave Jess a fierce hug before rising to her feet. “Stay with her, Molly. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
In alarm, Jess realized her mother was going off to confront him. She grabbed her mom’s wrist. “No, you can’t. He’s gone off somewhere. You won’t find him.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing.” Marilyn patted her hand and released herself. “I’m sure you’re right. I just want to let Lilah know there’s nothing to worry about, that we’re both fine.”
“She and Gavin are going to slip away soon,” Jess said. “They’re not doing a big departure. They warned everyone they’re just going to take off on their honeymoon when they’re ready.”
“And I’ll be sure to kiss her good-bye for both of us.” Marilyn shoved her feet into a pair of flats by the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t you worry,” she said again, then was gone.
Jess closed her eyes and fell back against the sofa.
Don’t you worry.
Why would she? What did she have to worry about? Her life was over.
Impulsive. Asher had thrown that descriptor at him thousands of times throughout his life, and he’d chafed against it, but right now, he reveled in it. The thought had hit him like Cupid’s arrow through his soul:
Wife.
He knew Jess was the One, knew it with a timeless sense of eternity that ran through the universe, a frequency that pervaded each cell, each membrane, every molecule that made up our known world, and even the unknown dimensions that Derry’s heart-swelled mind could not fathom. He was both larger than life and oh, so delicately focused on the tiniest of details as he created a haven for him and Jess, one in which they would be husband and wife.
The plans required too much of him, he knew, as he dashed to and fro, making furtive phone calls and seeking expert assistance for the whirlwind elopement he would unveil momentarily. He’d spent the better part of the reception thus far scheduling travel, a ring, an officiant, and making certain no luxury would be spared. It had to be perfect.
Perfect.
For Jess deserved no less.
“The jet’s arranged?” he hissed into his phone. “Amsterdam?” Chosen on a whim based entirely on Jess’s appreciation of his use of light in his paintings, he’d selected Amsterdam as their starting point. The Dutch masters held an appeal for him, and that she could see that—sense it from a simple examination of his work—made the destination all the more meaningful. He’d called a contact at the State Department earlier, chagrined to find that Jessica Eileen Murphy possessed no passport, but his friend assured him the orderly gears of the federal government could be cranked up a notch to get her a passport by morning.
“Yes, sir,” Roger answered. The stalwart pilot had flown the Stanton family around the world for years, one of a batch of three pilots who knew their secret, each paid three times the normal rate for their work—and happy for it. “We have the plane here at the landing strip in Montana, ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
“Thank you.” Derry readied to finish the call, the jeweler on the other line. He’d requested an express delivery here, to the ranch, for the hastily chosen diamond ring. They could resize it later, but he had to have a ring.
“And Mr. Stanton?”
“Yes, Roger?”
“Congratulations.”
Derry beamed into the telephone. “Thank you.”
Eva appeared, eyes wide and head tilted in question, judgment written all over her smooth face. “What are you doing on the telephone, Derry? You are the best man. Get in there and do your job!” Her hands were on his shoulders, shooing him before he could protest, the conversation with the jeweler cut off with a hurried apology and promise to call back in five minutes.
“I’ve already mingled,” he groused. “I spoke with Senator Rumsey’s little jerky son. Such a frat boy, that one. Blabbering on about some ridiculous party from ages ago that I don’t even remember attending. I gave a lovely best man toast and complimented the bride, which is not a difficult task. Lilah’s amazing and a perfect fit for Gavin. What more do I need to do, Eva?”
“I’ve never, ever known you to avoid a party, Derry,” Eva said in a recriminating tone, as if he were violating a social norm by not expressing his bacchanalian side.
His head swam. “You’re chiding me for not being a wild and hedonistic rake?”
She blinked, the slow, sly smile spreading across her face. “You have a point.”
Electricity shot through his every pore. Two more calls, and it would be set. He needed the ring and an officiant to perform the wedding.
And there was one minor detail he needed to remember:
To propose.
Eva came to an abrupt halt as that thought rang out in his brain like the bells of Notre Dame. Her own smartphone buzzed in her hand, and she looked at a text message, then up at Derry, then back at the screen.
