CHAPTER SIX
BLAIR
T he bathroom is so different than the rest of the club I’ve seen so far.
The floors are a plain, sterile white, and the tile is cold on my feet as I slip my heels off, trying to regain some sort of composure.
My heart is still racing, the remnants of panic still clawing at my chest. I brace myself on the sink, looking at my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes are wide, my cheeks flushed, and my hands are slightly trembling.
I’m not angry; I’m just confused. My dad has only been gone for a year. Twelve months. That’s not long at all, and to see Mom already moving on is almost concerning. She always said I was the reckless one, but to me, this is fucking reckless.
Marrying a man I didn’t even know existed until fifteen minutes ago. Marrying a man whose son I was practically dry humping just last night.
What. The. Fuck.
I close my eyes, letting the cool air in the bathroom wash over me and try to deplete the magnitude of emotions I’m feeling. What does this mean for us? What happens now? What if Shay’s dad is as much of a prick as him?
The door behind me creaks open, and I jump, snapping my eyes open to see him in the reflection of the mirror.
Shay stands in the doorway, his face a mask of barely contained anger.
He doesn’t belong here, in this small, clinical space, but his posture and face tell me he’s not here to comfort me.
Not like I thought he would for a single second.
His fists are clenched at his sides, and his shoulders bob with every deep breath he takes. His blue eyes are hooded and dark—not the same easy haze they had last night. His hair that was slicked back and gelled perfectly is now tousled and messy, a few dark strands falling over his forehead.
“You’re fucking joking, right?” he snaps, stepping into the bathroom and letting the door close behind him.
His presence feels like a wave crashing against the calm I was trying to build—the calm I was trying to regain.
Turning to face him, I take a step forward. If he thinks I’ll be backing down, he’s mistaken. He must have forgotten last night. “You’re asking me?” I laugh sarcastically. “Like I fucking knew.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t lie to me. I know you knew about this.”
“Knew? You think I knew?”
He cuts me off before I can say anything else. “You sick fucking bitch. You were going to let me fuck you. What, is this some sort of stunt to try and drag my dad down? Got a reporter on speed dial waiting to hear the juicy story of how Henry Cornell’s son fucked his own sister?”
My mouth falls open. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t even know your dad existed until a few minutes ago. Hell, didn’t even know you existed before last night.”
My words look like they sting him for half a second before he steps again, invading my personal space. “You’re lying. And that stunt you pulled leaving the table? Nice fucking touch. I see through you and your mom’s bullshit, Blair.” He spits my name like it leaves a bad taste on his tongue.
I raise my hand, willing it not to shake, and put it between us before he can step any closer.
“You’re delusional if you think me or my mom have some sort of underlying agenda here, asshole.
Let’s get one thing clear: I don’t like you, and by association, I don’t like your dad.
I’m not thrilled about this arrangement either, but if you try and say anything bad about my mother, I promise you, I will fucking ruin you. ”
“Oh. Did I hit a nerve bringing mommy into this?” He lets his head fall back and cackles before bringing his eyes back to mine.
“Fuck off, Shay.” I don’t even have the energy to go back and forth with him anymore. It’s almost as if he gets off on being a dick—on stomping all over everyone around him. He’s in for a rude awakening, though, because I refuse to give him what he’s so desperately wanting.
“How about you fuck off instead and take Sylvia with you. Because I’ll be damned if my dad tries to replace my mom with yours.”
Now, I laugh. “Oh, is the pretty boy sad his daddy found someone new to fuck? Someone who isn’t his precious mommy dearest?”
My hand doesn’t stand a chance against his broad chest. He steps forward again, quicker this time, and doesn’t stop until the edge of the sink is digging into the small of my back. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
I should take this as my cue to dip out, but I don’t. Shay fucking Cornell is going to meet his match. “Or what?” I whisper, hovering my nose mere millimeters from his.
“Try me and you’ll find out.”
I huff and push him as hard as I can. He barely moves, but a few inches is all I need to slide out from between him and the sink. “If you think I’m scared of you, you’re wrong. Try me and see what happens.”
“So much bite for someone so small. I’ll destroy you,” he hisses at my back as I walk toward the door.
“I’d love to see you try,” I throw over my shoulder as I exit.
I only give myself a second to take a breath once the door separates us, but I know he won’t be far behind. Making my way back toward the lobby, I abandon my mom and dinner, then slide my phone from my bra.
Clicking Hannah’s picture, I bring it to my ear and wait.
“Hey, girl. What’s up?” Her voice is too cheerful for the situation.
“Can you come get me? Like, now.”
“Um, okay. Where are you?”
“Clear View Country Club. Do you know where it’s at?”
“Everyone does. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
I end the call before any more words spill from her mouth. I don’t want to deal with the questions yet. Instead, I slip out the front doors and start walking down the ridiculously long drive. Once I make it to the end, I cross through the wrought iron gate and wait.
Hannah didn’t lie. Within fifteen minutes, her old, white Impala was pulling up, blasting Ari Abdul. When I got into the car, I held up my hand, telling her not to even ask. Not yet anyway, and she didn’t. Ten minutes later, we were pulling into a parking spot on the beach.
Putting the car in park, she leans back in her seat and raises her hand to flip down her visor. A lone, tightly rolled joint falls down and lands in her lap. Picking it up, she hands it to me, then digs in the console for a lighter.
I bring it to my lips and spark it. I inhale deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs. When I blow it out, I let all of my frustrations go with it and close my eyes.
“Can I ask now?”
I take another hit and nod.
“Where are your shoes?”
Opening my eyes, I look down and realize I didn’t grab my heels when I left. It makes me laugh. “That’s it? You want to know where my shoes went?”
She shrugs and pulls her feet into her seat, crisscrossing her legs.
Extending her hand toward me, she reaches for the joint.
“I mean, you just look kind of trashy leaving such a fancy place with no shoes. I don’t really care, I was just curious and figured I’d give the weed a little more time to work into your system before I started really grilling you. ”
I roll my eyes and push further into the seat. “You’re not going to believe me.”
“Try me.” She takes another pull from the joint, then hands it back to me.
“My mom is getting married.”
“To who?” She raises a brow.
Hannah is the only person in Saint Bipal I’ve told about my dad.
It’s not for the fact I don’t want to—I love to remember his memory—but how do you bring up a dead parent?
On top of that, how do you bring them up when the wound is still so fresh?
Twelve months isn’t long enough to forget someone.
Which brings me back to the bullshit at hand…
I shake my head. I don’t even think I can say the words out loud. “I left my shoes in the bathroom.”
“I thought we were past the shoes, Blair. Fuck the shoes. Tell me who momma is shacking up with.”
I let the silence hang between us for a moment. “Henry.”
The corner of her mouth tips up. “He got money? Sounds like a guy who has money.”
“Cornell.”
Her jaw falls open. “You’re fucking lying.”
I shake my head again. “Wish I was.”
“Henry Cornell, as in Shay Cornell’s dad?”
“That’s the one.” I point to nothing in particular.
“Oh my God.”
“I know.”
“No. I don’t think you do. This means Shay will be your brother…”
“Trust me, I am aware. So is he,” I let out on a huff.
“Blair, oh my God. You almost fucked your brother.”
I hold up my hand. “ Step , Hannah. Step brother. And please don’t remind me.”
She shakes her head. “That’s really fucked-up.”
I take another drag. “Who you telling?”
The conversation fizzles out, and we sit in a comfortable silence. I’m not sure how long we sit, but by the time I’m finally ready to go home, it’s dark, and I’m high.
This is insane .