7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Bella

I ’m standing in front of the mirror, holding up dress after dress, groaning at each one. Nothing feels right. This isn’t just any party—I’m going with Ryan. The thought makes my stomach twist, but I shake it off. It’s not like it means anything. I’m just playing my part.

“Are you seriously still trying to pick a dress?” Lacy asks, flopping onto my bed like she owns the place. Her curly hair bounces as she grins at me. “Girl, you’ve tried on half your closet. Just pick something.”

I glare at her in the mirror. “It’s not that easy, Lacy. I don’t want to look…ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? You’re going with Ryan,” she says, stretching out his name like it’s some fancy title. “You could wear a potato sack, and he’d still look at you like you hung the moon.”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “No, he would not,” I snap, turning back to the pile of clothes on the bed.

“Oh, please,” she teases as she rolls onto her stomach. “You’ve seen the way he looks at you. And don’t act like you don’t think he’s fine.”

“He’s not fine,” I say quickly, but the way my voice hitches at the end betrays me.

Lacy gasps and sits up like she’s discovered the world’s biggest secret. “You do think he’s fine! Bella, oh my God, you’re blushing!”

“I am not!” I whip around to face her, but that’s just plain stupid, as she can now confirm that my face is burning.

“You are so red right now.” She points at me and laughs. “Just admit it—Ryan is hot.”

I cross my arms. “He’s…okay, fine. He’s attractive. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure, it doesn’t,” she says with a wink. “You keep telling yourself that.”

I groan and turn back to the mirror. “Can you just help me pick a dress?”

Lacy hops off the bed and starts rifling through my clothes like she owns them. “You need something that says, ‘I’m confident, but I’m not trying too hard.’” She pulls out a dress and holds it up. “What about this?”

The dress is a soft, dusty rose color with thin straps and a flowy skirt that stops just above my knees. It’s simple but elegant. I take it from her and hold it against my body, looking in the mirror.

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “I think this could work.”

“Of course it works,” Lacy says, digging through my makeup bag. “Now, sit down. I’m making you look like the goddess you are.”

I sit at the little vanity in the corner of my room, letting her work her magic. She brushes and curls my hair, pinning a few strands back while leaving the rest to cascade over my shoulders. Then, she adds a touch of makeup—just enough to highlight my features without feeling heavy.

When she’s done, I barely recognize myself. My skin looks flawless, my eyes pop, and my lips have just the right amount of shine.

“You look amazing,” Lacy says, admiring her work.

I smile at my reflection. For once, I actually feel beautiful.

As I leave the house, I see Ryan leaning against his car, waiting for me. He’s wearing a dark suit that fits him perfectly. The jacket hugs his broad shoulders snugly, and his tie is slightly loosened in a way that gives him an effortless, polished look. He’s tall—taller than I remember, somehow, or my mind is playing tricks on me—and the way the streetlight hits his face makes him look almost unreal.

My heart skips a beat, but I quickly snap out of it. It’s just Ryan. Get a grip.

“You look nice,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say, trying not to fidget. “You…too.”

He opens the car door for me and I slide in, grateful for the moment to collect myself. The ride to the party is quiet but not awkward. We both know what’s waiting for us, but we aren’t ready to discuss it.

The party is at the Whitman estate, and it’s as fancy as I expected, complete with twinkling lights strung across the yard, a live band playing soft music, and people dressed to the nines. As soon as we walk in, heads turn.

“Is that Bella and Ryan?” someone whispers.

“I thought we were joking about those two,” another says.

“They showed up together? What an unfortunate pair.” I hear someone else laughing.

I grit my teeth and keep my head high, though the words hurt. Ryan doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just doesn’t care. He’s too busy scanning the crowd, probably looking for someone worth talking to. A group of men approaches him almost immediately—Mark, Dan, and Steven, all guys from his old circle. They clap him on the back and start talking about business or sports or whatever it is men like them talk about.

“I’ll be back,” Ryan says to me.

“Take your time,” I say, forcing a smile.

I wander to the bar, needing something to take the edge off. The bartender hands me a glass of wine and I sip it slowly, trying to blend into the background. But then I hear my name.

“She doesn’t belong here,” a woman says.

I glance over and see a small group of women huddled together, all dressed in designer gowns. I recognize two of them—Hannah and Claire—and the pack leader is unmistakable: Mrs. Greenwich, Marlene’s aunt and the queen of Cedar Ridge gossip.

“She’s nothing like the women Ryan used to date,” Mrs. Greenwich continues, her voice dripping with disdain. “Remember Caroline? Or Vivienne? Now, those were real matches. I hear Vivienne is married to a governor, and Carolina won Miss USA.”

“What is he thinking? Bella is…plain,” Claire says, and they all laugh.

“I bet she’s just looking to push the responsibility for her son on him. How shameless can you be to go from one brother to another? Opening her legs for the entire family? That’s low.”

I choke on my wine, and the sound draws their attention.

“Oh,” Mrs. Greenwich says, her eyes narrowing as she spots me. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” I say tightly.

She steps closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “Well, that’s unfortunate for you, but if you think this is the part where we cower and feel guilty for badmouthing you, think again. Listen, dear. There’s no point pretending. You’re out of your league here. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

Before I can respond, Ryan’s angry voice booms near me.

“That’s enough.”

I turn to see Ryan standing behind me with a cold expression that sends chills down my spine.

“Ryan,” Mrs. Greenwich says, her tone suddenly sweet. “We were just—”

“Gossiping,” Ryan finishes for her, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “About Bella. I don’t care who you are—you don’t get to talk about her like that. Not here. Not anywhere.”

“Ryan, darling, you misunderstand. We were just making an observation.”

“Oh, please. What you were doing was tearing her down. And for what? To make yourselves feel better?” His icy gaze sweeps over the group, making each woman shift uncomfortably.

“Now, wait just a minute,” Claire pipes up, her voice shaky. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

Ryan’s gaze snaps to her, and she immediately wilts under his glare. “You were comparing her to people who you don’t think are in her league because she doesn’t fit your narrow, outdated idea of someone who ‘belongs’ here.”

Mrs. Greenwich’s lips press into a thin line. “Ryan, we were simply reminiscing. Caroline and Vivienne were—”

“Gone,” Ryan interrupts sharply. “They’re gone. And neither of them ever had the strength Bella has shown just by walking into a room full of people like you and holding her head high. So don’t you dare try to belittle Bella when she’s worth more than all your empty words combined.”

The group is silent now, looking humiliated.

“I’m warning you,” Ryan continues in a low and dangerous voice. “Bella is with me now, and if I hear even a whisper of this nonsense again, we’ll have a much bigger problem. Are we clear?”

Mrs. Greenwich’s jaw tightens, but she nods, knowing better than to push him further. “Of course, Ryan. We wouldn’t dream of—”

“Good,” he says curtly. “Then enjoy the rest of your evening and stay out of Bella’s business.”

Ryan takes my hand—not gently, but firmly—and starts leading me toward the exit.

“We’re leaving,” he says, his voice low.

I don’t argue.

The car ride is silent until I finally speak. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” he asks without taking his eyes off the road.

“Defended me,” I say, my voice trembling. “I’ve been dealing with people like her ever since Caleb left. I don’t need you to save me.”

“I’m not trying to save you, Bella. I couldn’t stand there and let them treat you like that.”

I shake my head, staring out the window. “You don’t get it. This isn’t new for me. It’s my life.”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?”

“Excuse me?”

Ryan tightens his grip on the steering wheel as his jaw clenches. “You know what, Bella? That’s your problem right there.”

“Again, excuse me?”

“You just sit there and take it,” he says, his voice rising. “You let people like Mrs. Greenwich walk all over you, and instead of standing up for yourself, you just roll over and accept it.”

“That’s not fair,” I snap, heat rushing to my face. “You don’t know what I’ve been through!”

“I know enough!” he shoots back, finally glancing at me. His eyes burn with frustration. “You’re so quick to play the victim, Bella. But when are you going to realize you’re stronger than this? You don’t have to put up with their crap. You’re just choosing to because it’s easier.”

My hands curl into fists in my lap. “You think any of this is easy for me? Dealing with their whispers, their stares, their constant judgment? I didn’t ask for this, Ryan. And I sure don’t need you swooping in like some knight in shining armor, acting like you know what’s best for me!”

“Maybe someone needs to, because you’ve clearly decided you’re fine being miserable.”

My chest tightens and anger bubbles up inside me. “You have no right to dictate how I handle my life. None! Just because you’ve got everything figured out doesn’t mean you get to sit there and lecture me!”

Ryan lets out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Do you think I have it all together? Newsflash, Bella, I’m just as messed up as you are. The difference is, I’m not sitting back and letting life steamroll me.”

“Oh, so now I’m weak? That’s what you’re saying?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what you think,” I bite back, my voice laced with venom. “And you know what, Ryan? Screw you. I don’t need your pity or your help. I’ve been doing just fine without you.”

“Fine?” He slams the brakes at a red light and turns to look at me. “Bella, you’re not fine. You’re barely holding on, and you’re too stubborn to admit it!”

Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “You don’t know me, Ryan. Not really. So stop acting like you care.”

“You’re right. Maybe I don’t know you. And maybe I’m wasting my time trying to help someone who doesn’t want to help herself.”

The light turns green and he presses the gas pedal, his knuckles white on the wheel. The rest of the drive is suffocatingly silent. When he finally pulls up in front of my house, I don’t wait for him to say anything. I shove the door open and step out, then slam it hard behind me.

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