Chapter 1
ONE
MOLLY
Two years later
Pure-white butterflies gently flutter around the lavish ballroom. They land here and there, delicately flitting between the cacophony of white roses that fill the space. White petals line the floor, and the heavy scent of roses mixes with the sweet tang of coconut to perfume the air.
These are details I notice later, because I barely step two feet into the white and gold gilded ballroom before a hand is shoved in my face accompanied by an all-too-familiar squeal of delight.
Bess.
Upon my best friend’s ring finger sits a rock so big, I have to take a step back to fully appreciate its beauty. The giant diamond twinkles, catching the lights of the ballroom as my best friend holds out the engagement ring for me to admire.
“Holy shit,” I splutter, finally comprehending what this means. “Congratulations!”
Bess’s gorgeous red hair practically shimmies with excitement.
Shorter than my own five foot seven, she compensates by wearing heels high enough to cause even a drag queen pause.
But she rocks them—always has. For her birthday, she requested that everyone wear white, and her stunning dress—which dips between her breasts and ends mid-thigh—puts my second-hand two-seasons-too-late frock to shame.
But then it has always been so. Bess has a natural beauty and flair for fashion that often lands her in the social sections of gossipy news sites and high class magazines as a fashion-forward player.
I’ve never quite understood how or why she took me under her wing back in high school.
Or why she still puts up with me, but I’m forever grateful for her being in my life.
Bess is like a whirlwind—constantly circulating, bouncing from one thought to another.
Her energy remains untamed, her joy for life unquenchable.
Some people might label her basic or extra, but I like to think of her as eccentric.
She may forget to call or miss an appointment, become but if you need her, she’ll be there in a heartbeat.
The day I find out about Brad, she dropped everything and arrived at my place with an army of movers and a buttload of ice cream and tissues. She comforted me, directed the packing, then bundled me into her limo and took me home with her.
She then keyed Brad’s car while I slept and somehow got away with it.
I lived in her spare bedroom for six months while trying to learn how to function as a divorcee.
I wrap my arms around my best friend, beyond excited for her.
“Oh my god!” I squeal, jumping us up and down. “You’re engaged!”
“You’ll forgive me for not telling you earlier, right? It’s just—“ She pulls back to laugh giddily into my face. “—Pete surprised me by proposing in Montagues! You know how much I covet their designs. He had a handful of rings already picked out that Mr. Montague himself designed! Can you imagine?”
“I can’t,” I say, enjoying her profuse joy.
“Pete thought I might like to choose my own ring and this one, it’s perfect, isn’t it?” She holds up her hand to me once again.
“It is,” I agree, admiring the beautiful piece. “It’s perfect for you.”
“And it’s fifteen carats, Molly! Fifteen! And then we went back home and had the most amazing sex before coming here.” She tackles me into a hug once again. “I’m so happy!”
I chuckle, squeezing her tight. “I can tell. Pete’s a good guy. You two deserve each other.”
“Oh, Molly.” She brushes a happy tear from the corner of her eye. “I knew you’d be thrilled.” She pegs me with puppy-dog eyes. “Please say you’ll be my maid of honor.”
“Of course, silly.” I give her one last tight squeeze. “I’ll be there for you like you’ve been for me.”
“Thank you.” A shadow crosses her face. “I know this might be hard for you to—”
“Uh-uh.” I waggle my finger at her. “None of that now. We’re here for you, and you alone.” I pluck a small package out of my bag and hand it to her. “Happy birthday, Bessie. I know it doesn’t compare to fifteen carats and a lifetime of joy, but I think you’ll like it.”
Distracted from the morose path she might have guided us down, Bess squeals and dives on the wrapping paper, ripping it apart with the same gusto a toddler demonstrates on Christmas morning.
She opens the jewellery case and gasps. “Molly, you shouldn’t have.”
I grin, taking the pearls from her and gesturing for her to turn around. “Go on, they’ll look great with your dress.”
She twirls, holding her hair up for me to place the necklace around her throat. It took me a good few months to save up for the beautiful piece, but when I saw it in the antique store on Third and West, I’d been unable to consider any other present.
Bess deserves this and so much more.
I let her go, stepping back, nodding in satisfaction when she turns around.
“See? Perfection.”
She holds up her phone, snapping off a selfie before examining the picture. “They really are.” She touches a fingertip to the pearls. “I’m wearing these on my wedding day.”
Her eyes tear up and she throws herself at me. “I’m getting married!”
“Yeah, you are.” Laughing, I gently give her a push. “Go! I can see your fiancé across the room searching for you. Go enjoy this time with him.”
Laughing, she pokes her tongue out at me. “You should mingle.” She dips her head toward the bar. “I invited all of Pete’s single friends.”
I roll my eyes at her blatant attempt to toss me back into the dating pool. “Leave before I throw red wine on your dress.”
Laughing, she skips away, sinking into the crowd of well-wishers as she makes her way across the ballroom to her fiancé, Pete Greenfeld.
His face lights up, and he opens his arms wide, catching Bess as she jumps into them. She wraps her arms around his neck as he catches her, leaning in for a kiss.
My chest tightens as an ache shoots through my heart, forcing me to look away.
I remember that kind of joy. I remember what it feels like to trust someone—to love them beyond all reason and doubts.
But I also remember the chest-crushing pain of betrayal.
I force myself to lift my head, pasting a smile on my face.
I love Bess and Pete—they are two of my oldest friends, which means I can be simultaneously happy for them and envious of their relationship. It’s pure. Untainted by lies and secrets.
I close my eyes, feeling a mix of emotions. I adore this for them, but even two years later I still hold grief for the trusting person I used to be, for the role of wife and partner I embraced.
I miss belonging to someone. I miss someone belonging to me.
I glance away, finding others in the room watching me with knowing glances.
It seems that while I might have escaped my ex, I can’t quite shake the shadow of him.
I turn, making my way determinedly toward the bar as I catalogue the crowd.
Bess and Pete are darlings of the Chars social scene.
Pete as the blond-haired, blue-eyed, shockingly friendly boy next door, and Bess as society’s charming little sister.
Between Bess’s social connections and Pete’s old money business ties, the room is packed with a veritable who’s who of the richest people in Astipia.
I wouldn’t be surprised to see a royal or two amongst this crowd.
It has always been so, ever since Bess and I become friends. She radiates so much positivity that she can socialize with everyone, while defending me from bullies and cliques.
I arrive at the bar just as Pete is passing. He catches my eye, grinning as he falls into step beside me.
“Hey, Molly McGee.”
I hip-bump him. “Hey, Petey Piper. Congratulations.” I gently punch him on the arm. “You never said a word. If you’d asked, I’d have given you access to Bess’s engagement vision board.”
He chuckles, pretending to rub the pain away. “I’d hope you know that by now I am intimately acquainted with my woman’s desires.”
I snort. “Oh, I heard all about your intimacy, mister.”
He glances across the room where his fiancée is chatting with guests. “I love her, Molly. I really do.”
I open my mouth to tease him, only to be interrupted by a familiar booming voice behind me.
“There he is! It’s about time!” Pete’s dad, Geoffrey, claps a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Thought you’d never get a ring on the girl.”
A mirror, though older, image of his son, both are blond, blue-eyed, and bigmouthed. They laugh easily, smile freely, and invite everyone to enjoy their orbit.
I watch, smiling as Geoff pulls a laughing Pete in for a hug.
“Come with me,” Geoff orders, practically dragging his son with him as he strides toward the stage.
Pete sends me an apologetic look over his shoulder. I wave him off.
“Go, I’ll bring you a drink.”
“Thanks!”
I chuckle, turning back to the line. I pull out my phone while I wait, absently scrolling until I hear a familiar name whispered behind me.
“…Bradley.”
I stiffen, my finger freezing on the screen.
“Left her for Yvonne. Such a lovely girl, that Yvonne. So graceful. Her parents are Dutch, I believe. Or Polish, maybe? Either way, they come from money.”
I swallow against the bitter taste that burns my tongue. I’m not surprised to hear this, though. For the last two years, I’ve heard gossip like this every time I step foot in the sacred spaces of the upper echelon.
But damn if it doesn’t still hurt.
“Are they here?” a second person asks.
“Oh, yes. Across the room. She’s the tall brunette. A model, you know. Though I believe she’s on maternity leave now. Twins, I understand.”
I force myself to remain still, ignore the screaming voice in my head that seems determined to subject myself to what will inevitably be a morose moment soaked in sadness and anger.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t look. Don’t do it. Don’t—
“You know,” the hushed words brush the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “I always assumed Bess would propose to Pete.”
I jerk upright, blinking up in surprise at Joshua Greenfeld, Pete’s older brother.