5. Willow
This engagement party was a fucking disaster for so many reasons.
The main one being my fiancé.
I tried to hide behind grace and poise, but as the day went on, it became progressively harder. I’d pasted on my best fake smile all day and held my fiancé’s arm, allowing him to make a fool out of me.
Again!
Passing the fountains set up throughout the terrace and the round tables draped with gold tablecloths and littered with champagne glasses, I heard the hushed pity and felt the judging eyes on my skin.
My parents, Royce, Aurora, and Sailor—and their doting husbands—were the only guests here for me. The remainder were strangers, people whose names I was learning today, at my engagement party.
Stuart never loosened his proprietary grip around my waist, leading me across the terrace like a prized medallion. Meanwhile, I considered my options on ending this engagement despite the little life growing inside me.
Hindsight was a bitch, because it couldn’t be more painfully clear here, surrounded by strangers on what was supposed to be a joyous day, that this arrangement was doomed from the get-go.
Initially, I agreed to go out on a date with Stuart, believing he was the next best thing to Royce—my best friend who I secretly fantasized about when I needed to get off.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Stuart didn’t hold a candle to him. My best friend was a playboy; Stuart was a downright cheater and a liar. While Stuart made himself look smart by putting other people down, Royce was sharp and deeply intelligent. It was what made him so dangerous. People were so focused on his muscles and swagger that they underestimated his genius mind.
And while I’d kept my distance for the past month, that genius mind had picked up on the fact that something was off between Stuart and me.
Ten years ago, I made the mistake of going to a party with a boyfriend I thought I could trust. It turned out to be one of the dumbest things I could’ve ever done, but like a prince, Royce swooped in and saved me.
Could he do it again?
Or would he forever discard me once he learned that Stuart had knocked me up?
My heart ached as I released a shuddering breath.
Life was made up of choices, and I regretted the one I made three months ago when I said yes to Stuart. In the first week of what was supposed to be a very brief relationship, I got pregnant. Even though we used protection every single time.
God sure had a funny sense of humor.
I was a pro-choice girl, except my mother’s deep Catholic roots had a firmer hold on me than I anticipated. So, in an attempt to make things right, I was getting married.
But enough was enough.
I’d have this baby but not his father, otherwise the weight of everyone’s stares—assessing me, judging me, pitying me—would be something I’d deal with for the rest of my life.
My fake smile faded by the time we reached Stuart’s parents—an aged, pompous-looking couple who seemingly couldn’t stand each other, which was so different from my own parents’ relationship. Watching them was like a vision board for my future if I didn’t fix this.
Stuart’s grip on me tightened as he pulled me closer, murmuring in my ear, “Smile, baby mama.” I turned to glance up at him and was met with a smug look. “We’re stuck together forever.”
I could see the blankness in his eyes, the unfeelingness, and goose bumps trailed down my neck. The longer I spent in his company, the clearer I could see his facade crumble. The man beneath the charismatic mask. The man who loved to wreak havoc everywhere he went, no matter with who.
He brushed a soft kiss against my lips, and it took all I had not to wipe my skin clean.
Nodding and saying hello to his parents, a congressman for the state of Delaware and his wife who looked constipated, the music switched back to a soft melody.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Royce leaving the DJ, his eyes meeting mine in a silent show of comfort.
“Ah, my son and future daughter-in-law,” Congressman Harris said in a deep voice. “Tomorrow better be perfection. The world’s watching us.”
Unease dripped down my spine.
Stuart nodded at him but didn’t comment.
“Fix your hair,” his mother scolded. “Discretion is paramount, Stuart.”
Congressman Harris turned his attention toward me, studying me critically. “Your parents got you a dress, right?”
“Yes,” I gritted, my hands curling into fists and my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. It was another of Mr. and Mrs. Harris’s attributes. They were snobs. My parents weren’t anywhere near as loaded, and I refused to ask them to fork over the funds to cover this elaborate sham of a wedding. A fact that these assholes never failed to remind me of. “And they would have paid for the wedding if we’d kept it small like I wanted,” I reminded him, although I wasn’t sure why I bothered.
I’d made up my mind—Stuart and I would have a heart-to-heart tonight. There was no way in hell I was going through with this wedding.