As I exit the car, I button up my black tuxedo jacket, peering at the huge mansion. Darcy slips into her gold high heels—she couldn’t drive with them on—which complement her ball gown. She smiles shyly.
I offer her my arm, which she accepts, and we make our way inside.
Music sounds from a string quartet, playing softly in the corner of the room. The entrance is filled with people who talk animatedly among themselves. There’s no indication of what we’re celebrating, but it’s a grand affair judging from the fancy dresses.
A waiter offers us champagne. I take two glasses.
“I’m glad I polished my shoes,” I tease, offering a glass to her. I’m also thankful I’m now clean-shaven as I would have looked like a savage with the beard I was sporting.
She accepts with a laugh. “Let me show ya around.”
I don’t argue and follow her through the mansion since she’s clearly been here before. The staircase is marbled, and branches off into two directions. Darcy leads me to the left, which seems to be less populated than the right.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” I say when it’s evident that this upstairs area is off-limits to guests.
“Since when do you follow the rules, Punky?” Darcy says over her shoulder.
“Aye,” I reply with a shrug, curiosity getting the better of me.
Numerous doors branch off the long hallway, which has me guessing these are guest rooms. The expensive paintings hanging off the walls and the low-hanging crystal chandelier adds to the wealth this place exudes.
Darcy grins before softly opening a door to the left. She pokes her head inside and gestures I’m to follow. This can’t be good. When I step inside and see the pressed white linens and the four-poster bed, I realize I was right.
“Whose party is this?” I ask, watching as Darcy walks over to the large window overlooking the grounds.
But she doesn’t reply.
“This estate is part of my father’s portfolio,” she says instead. “When I was a little girl, I used to pretend this was my castle, and I was awaiting my prince’s return. That prince was you.”
I adjust my bow tie as it’s suddenly suffocating me.
She turns over her shoulder slowly and smiles. “Yer finally back.”
“I’m no prince, Darcy.”
“Yer right.” She saunters toward me, stopping a few inches away. “Yer far too good for that. Yer a king. So now, the question is, are ye looking for a queen?”
She waits for me to reply, a brazen smirk tugging at her red lips.
However, I never get the chance to reply.
“Punky?” Hannah gasps, pausing in the doorway when she sees Darcy and me together.
I, too, am surprised to see her here, but don’t have time to question it because Cian and Rory almost crash into her as they attempt to see what she’s gawking at. When they do, I know I shouldn’t be here.
“Don’t be mad,” Darcy whispers into my ear as she stands on her toes. “I brought you here because no one wants to tell you the truth, and you deserve to know.”
“Whose party is this?” I repeat, dangerously low.
She nervously licks her lips. “It’s Rory’s engagement party. His and…Camilla’s. They’re getting married.”
Even though I heard her, my brain doesn’t want to process her words as truth. But when Babydoll enters the room, laughing with Amber, oblivious to what’s going on, there’s no denying that her “good man,” the man who can do what I cannot—make her happy—is my best friend.
My best friend is marrying the woman I love.
But Darcy isn’t done.
“I also wanted you to come because Brody is here. It’s time people stopped treating you like a fool.”
When Babydoll and I lock eyes, I realize that Darcy is right—it’s time to quit actin’ the maggot. It’s time for war.
All eyes are on me—eyes which look at me with a mixture of guilt, sorrow, and shame. So this is what Cian was talking to Amber about today. He had ample opportunity to tell me why Rory didn’t want to see me. Just how Babydoll could have shared who her fiancé is.
No wonder Hannah was so incredibly sheepish when speaking of Babydoll. She didn’t want to be the one who broke my heart. But you can’t break what is already broken beyond repair.
Before me stand the people I held closest to my heart, but now, all I see are strangers. So much has changed in ten years. Even though I was stuck in time, my friends moved on; just how I wanted them to. But seeing them together, realizing they had a life without me, fucking stings.
Worst of all—seeing Rory wrap his arm around a stunned Babydoll cements that she moved on with my fucking friend. And he on to the woman he knew I sacrificed everything for. But no one knows the truth, that Babydoll isn’t my sister. I can’t hate them for living their life.
So why can’t I shift this urge to throttle Rory with my bare hands?
Hannah’s eyes fill with tears, tears for me. But I don’t want her pity.
“Congratulations,” I say, breaking the ice as I raise my glass of champagne in the air.
“Punky—” Rory tries to make amends for betraying me in the worst possible way, but I cut him off, not interested in his excuses.
“To the happy couple.”
Darcy smirks, clinking her glass against mine before we both throw back our drinks.
Babydoll looks like she’s about to pass out, but that’s not my problem anymore. None of this is.
Cheers to new beginnings.
Why is he here?
We didn’t invite him because I wanted to avoid this—this uncomfortable silence. Rory’s arm around me suddenly feels so wrong. I subtly shrug from his hold. He sighs, while Punky looks like he’s about to rip out Rory’s throat.
I can’t do anything right.
When a grin tugs at Darcy’s lips, I realize Punky is here because of her. She knew the scene it would cause. She knew how uncomfortable this would make me feel. She also wanted to reassert her claim over him, but there’s no need.
She’s won.
I’m so thankful she helped him because if it wasn’t for her, Punky would still be behind bars. But there is still some unspoken competition between us which makes no sense. When I “worked” for her family, she always made sure the line was drawn—I was beneath her.
Not that I could ever forget.
And now, ten years later, she still insists on hurting me.
She and Rory were once a thing, and I know he still harbors some sort of affection for her. It doesn’t bother me. I know it should, but it doesn’t, and that’s because I feel the same way about Punky.
Years of therapy have helped me “deal” with my love for him, but seeing him now, I realize I still love him and not how a sister should love her brother.
I’m sick, I know I am, but I can’t help it. I’ve tried so hard to stop feeling this way, but I just can’t. My love for him hasn’t changed, and that’s why I agreed to marry Rory. I thought if I attempted to live a “normal” life, these feelings would eventually fade.
But they haven’t. They’ve only grown.
Looking at him now, I feel complete. Something is always missing when he’s not around, but now, the noise…it’s silenced, and I feel whole again.