Taryn
As predicted, Rowan didn’t budge despite Gráinne’s plea, and Liam McGuiness isn’t returning calls.
We have another couple days of winter break before school is back in session, so I can’t even track him down on campus.
Now that the shock has worn off, I’ve gone through a range of emotions.
Unfortunately, acceptance isn’t yet one of them.
“Are you going to tell Sam?”
My roommate came home the other day to find me lying on our living room floor with my brothers and Gráinne. Needless to say, it freaked her out a little. She’s been processing this news right along with me.
Truthfully, despite being roommates ever since we arrived at college, Stephanie and I don’t hang out too much.
We aren’t close, but she’s great to live with.
She tends to keep to herself, or else she’s out somewhere with her boyfriend.
Nonetheless, she’s never failed to be sympathetic when I’m having a bad day, and boy, does this top them all.
I was glad she agreed to join me at the cafe this morning.
Explaining all of this was tough, but she caught on quickly.
Her long-time boyfriend is in the New York clan.
I suppose he’s one of Rowan’s minions now.
“I don’t know, Steph.” I sigh and take a sip of my coffee. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I wouldn’t even know how to explain it to a guy like Sam. “I’m not sure what it means for us.”
“You’re not sure what it means for you?” she repeats incredulously. “You’re not going to keep seeing him, right?”
Now, this—this can be added to the rapidly growing list of things that amaze me.
Stephanie has been seeing the same jerk since our freshman year of college.
He cheats on her. I know it. I know that she knows it, despite her reluctance to acknowledge it.
I can’t understand how she is sitting here, acting like I should be expected to be a faithful little wifey to some playboy that I have no choice in marrying.
It’s just great that infidelity suddenly bothers her.
“I haven’t even talked to Liam yet. The jerk is nowhere to be found.” I sigh. “I have no idea what he wants. Maybe he’ll want an open arrangement.” The words taste bad as I say them. I don’t want this to be my life. I start shredding my napkin. I’m a neurotic mess.
“You and Sam aren’t all that serious, right? It might be easier just to break it off now,” she coaxes. She searches my face for a reaction.
I stiffen. She’s not exactly wrong about us.
Sam and I are friends with benefits. That’s the extent of it.
We don’t go on dates or have deep, meaningful conversations.
I’ve written a few papers for him. He’s helped me with my investments.
We hook up whenever it’s convenient. It’s an easy relationship.
We aren’t exclusive, and we’ve never discussed a future together.
I mean, yeah, I’ve thought about it. Sam is the heir to a fortune.
His family owns one of the largest fashion houses in the world.
He’s a pretty trust fund baby, and the sex is decent.
There are worse potential partners. Still, Sam knows I want to go to California, and he doesn’t seem to mind our expiration date.
We met my sophomore year, here at St. Agnes University.
The small private school itself is a bit unorthodox.
In its own little bubble about forty-five minutes outside of Manhattan, St. A’s provides a world-class education to the children of America’s richest and most corrupt.
Billionaires, mob leaders, politicians on the take—they all send their kids to school here.
It enables us to prepare our minds to run the world they insist we are entitled to, while at the same time, lets us organically—or sometimes forcibly—be coupled off, so the cycle will continue with the next generation.
They are all in each other’s pockets, and the interdependencies are always too confusing for me to keep track of.
It’s why I quit trying. This world wasn’t supposed to be my future.
I want to graduate and leave this all behind.
The violence. The drama. The politics. No, thank you.
At least that was the plan I had carefully crafted for myself.
I also assumed I would continue to have fun with Sam during this last semester at St. A’s before heading off to Stanford in the fall.
Having a regular hookup makes life a little easier.
No messy entanglements. No trolling local bars for acceptable one-night stands.
No shameless flirting with guys who I’m not interested in beyond sex.
“No,” I concede, “we aren’t serious. Still, I’m not sure I want to quit seeing him.” Mainly because I hate being told what to do. Still—my response bothers me. There’s no way I can keep seeing him with a ring on my finger. It isn’t who I am. Damn it. It’s all so hard to get my head around.
“You never know. Maybe you and Liam will hit it off.” She’s trying to put a good face on something so ugly that no amount of varnish will pretty it up.
I shrug. The truth is, Liam isn’t terrible to be around.
This is a small school. We’ve had classes together.
Been at the same parties. Ended up at the same bars.
We have mutual friends. I admit that I don’t know him very well, but Liam seems like a fun, affable guy.
He’s always been friendly toward me. Hell, he’s friendly and flirty with everyone.
I’ve never had a reason to dislike him. Before.
Stephanie giggles. “You guys would have gorgeous ginger babies.”
“We look like siblings. It’s so gross.” Liam’s hair is darker than mine, more auburn, but still.
He kind of reminds me a bit of that lead guy in Outlander.
So, have I noticed him? I mean, yeah, of course.
The genetics gods were exceptionally generous to him, and I’m not going to lie and say otherwise.
And, okay, I may have even wondered what it would be like to sleep with him.
Ugh. Fine. I admit it—I’ve had a fantasy or twelve.
He’s all muscles and magnetism. So, okay, I may have thought about it.
I’m pretty sure most of the girls at St. A’s have given Liam’s body some serious consideration.
But, did I ever wonder about him on a deeper level?
Hell no. I’m not sure Liam has much going for him besides his looks.
He’s never struck me as the brightest bulb.
The guy is always grinning like the world is a big joke.
Spoiler alert: life in the mob is anything but funny.
That’s really what it comes down to. He’s an unfairly attractive, shallow flirt with the emotional depth of a puddle, so I’ve never fallen for his charms. The guys I’ve slept with tend to remember my name the next day.
“I think you should tell Sam before he hears it around campus,” Stephanie says. And my mind snaps back to the current issue at hand. I admit it; she has a point. Nothing stays quiet here long. Secrets are a form of currency in this place.
“I know. There’s just a part of me that still hopes this will fall through somehow. I can’t help it.” I rub my temples, which are beginning to ache. “I’ll tell him on Sunday if I end up engaged.”
She nods her approval as Elizabeth enters the coffeehouse to join us.
A gust of frigid air follows her from outside, causing me to shiver.
We’re huddled at a small table in the corner, despite the place being pretty empty given that classes are out and it’s cold as fuck outside.
Our friend shrugs out of her oversized parka, dropping it on the seat back before smiling at us. “I’ll be right back.”
Elizabeth is a sweetheart. I met her last year at some house party off campus where she obviously was uncomfortable as hell, and we struck up a conversation. I’ve adored Miss Prim and Proper ever since. She’s impossible not to love.
After a couple minutes, Liz drops into her seat, hot tea in hand. “Gráinne told me your news. I’m really sorry, Taryn.” Her eyes shine with sympathy. “It’s tomorrow night, isn’t it?”
I cringe. “Yep. I’ve been summoned to the O’Toole Manor for a quaint evening cocktail hour in honor of my pending nuptials,” I say as if I’m Jeeves the Butler.
I’ve played the night out in my mind a dozen times.
Sometimes, I think about what would happen if I just said no.
Literally. What if I waited for him to pop the question to smile and say, “Uh, nope. Don’t think so.
” Or, what if I didn’t even show up? Or, what if Liam simply refuses to propose?
I role-play all of these scenarios in my head.
In my heart, though, I know none of these things will actually occur.
“Gráinne asked me to come,” Elizabeth shares.
“Rowan doesn’t want Luca there, because he thinks it’ll cause too much drama.
So, she wanted me to be her date. I wasn’t going to attend, but I will absolutely be there if you need me.
” I can see the concern and sincerity all over her face.
Gráinne’s fiancé, Luca, is part of New York’s biggest Italian mafia family, so I get how Rowan might only want to focus on one alliance at a time.
We Irish are our own particular mess, and I suppose that’s enough to manage for one night.
“I appreciate it, Elizabeth. It would be terrific if you’d go. I may need someone to stop me from punching Liam in the throat.”
Her eyebrows shoot up while Stephanie chuckles. Unfortunately, her laughter is cut short when Elizabeth asks her, “Will you be there too? I heard Cole is going.”
“I—He—No. No, Cole didn’t say anything,” Stephanie admits quietly.
Her boyfriend is an asshat. I have seen this same look of disappointment and rejection on her face too many times to count over the years.
And, here’s the thing: she is so far out of his league, it’s not even funny.
Seriously. I have no idea how douchebags like Cole ever manage to convince kindhearted babes like Stephanie that they are the lucky ones.
I’ve seen it happen more than once. Bonkers.
I try to cut the tension. “You won’t be missing anything. I’ll smile and say yes like a good little mob princess.” My voice oozes sarcasm. I cannot believe this is my reality.
The worst part is, we aren’t even engaged yet, and Liam is already ruining my life.
I am not this bitter person. Truly. I’m not.
I am fun, damn it. I smile. Joke. I don’t snip at my friends.
Okay. I don’t snip at them quite so much, and they never have to walk on eggshells around me like this.
I may be sarcastic, but I’m not sulky or cynical.
I enjoy the hell out of life on any normal day.
So much so that I apparently need to settle down.
I breathe in the savory scent of roasted coffee beans as I make a futile attempt at calming myself.
“Care to share any of the conversation you’re having with yourself right now?” Stephanie grins.
I smile back at her. “We should go out tonight. Have fun. Celebrate my last night of freedom.”
She shakes her head but smiles. “That sounds like a horrible idea.”
“Absolutely. It does. What time do you want to leave?”
“Maybe 9:30? Ten?”
Elizabeth’s eyes volley between us, watching the conversation with interest. I doubt she’s ever been to a club in her life. “Elizabeth.” I catch her attention. “Can you be at our place by seven to get ready?”
“Oh,” she gasps. “Oh, wow. I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t know if I—”
“I won’t take no for an answer,” I tell her. I’m serious. Elizabeth has this calming force around her that I may need over these next few days. Plus, she could stand to have a little fun. I watch as she bites her bottom lip in thought. “C’mon. I need my girls tonight.”
That seems to do it because she nods. “Okay. I’m in. But I’m not really sure what to wear.” She seems uncertain again, and this is where my fashion goddess of a roommate comes in handy.
Stephanie claps her hands. “Why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? We can look for something to wear tonight. Plus, if you need something for tomorrow”—her voice dips a bit as she alludes to my engagement party—“you can get it while we’re out.”
“I bet Steph has a platinum card that’s burning a hole in her Birkin,” I tease.
My roommate grins as I say this, but I’m serious.
Stephanie is always buying other people shit.
It’s not like she doesn’t have the money, but she’s generous to a fault.
God, I hate Cole. I can’t believe he didn’t at least mention the event to her.
Well, she can go out tonight and have fun without him.
Maybe a girls’ night will do her good as well.
“I’ll text Gráinne,” I tell the girls.
“Oh. Do you think Luca will let her go?” Elizabeth asks with concern.
I throw my head back and laugh. Loudly. “Oh my God, that’s terrific. I’m going to ask her just like that. Really. ‘Do you think Luca will let you go?’ I guaran-fucking-tee you that’s the ticket to her showing up.”
Stephanie finds this hysterical while Elizabeth drinks her tea silently.
I smile. Breaking sweet Elizabeth out of her shell.
Getting Steph around guys that aren’t her asshole boyfriend.
Watching Gráinne display her backbone to her uber-protective fiancé.
Shaking my ass on the dance floor one more time as a single lady.
Yeah. It’ll definitely be a good night. What could go wrong?