Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sienna
Nothing was the same.
I recognized all the faces and heard all the familiar laughs. I knew almost everyone at this party by name. But it was as though I was standing in a dark room, watching the party from behind a glass window.
Even though I could see and hear everything, I had never felt more disconnected. Parties used to be my playground, the social scene, my kingdom. But I no longer fit. It felt like I had moved on, and everyone else had stayed behind. Or maybe everyone else moved on, and I was just the pathetic girl who couldn’t navigate through life without the man I had fallen in love with to define who I really was.
I stood against the wall, looking around. The sprawling Victorian mansion dripped with wealth. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sparkling like diamonds. A kaleidoscope of rainbows casting a spectrum of colors over the party. The gold trimmings had a high shine under the delicate light, the large staircase splitting halfway into two different directions. I guess I would have been impressed if I wasn’t from around here, and used to people flashing their wealth with the most expensive material things.
“Hey.”
I looked up, straight into Andrew’s amber gaze, and shot him a weak smile. “Hey, yourself.”
“You’ve been a stranger on the social scene lately.”
I glanced down at my hands. “I’ve been a little busy.”
“Yeah, Spencer told me.”
I balked. “What did Spencer tell you?”
“Just that you’re busy.” He shrugged. “You know, dealing with things.”
“Oh my God.” I placed my hand on my forehead. “I can’t believe my brother told everyone.”
“Oh, no. Everyone already knew.”
“What? How?”
“Are you serious?” He cocked a brow. “Oakley’s parents are practically royalty here in Atherton. Of course, when their son is shipped off to some mental institution, it’ll be the hot topic around dinner tables for months.”
“Oakley.” I blinked and took a breath. “Yeah, of course.”
“It’s typical if you think about it. Them using the mental illness angle, blaming some psychological disorder. The guy should go to jail for what he did to you. Kidnapping. Assault.”
I slipped my hands in the back pockets of my jeans, lifting my shoulders. “Some would argue that a mental institution is a prison.”
“It’s not punishment enough for a sick fucker like him.”
“Could we...like not talk about it?”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” Andrew quickly backtracked. “I’m such an asshole. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” I shot him a half-smile. “It’s just if I don’t ever have to talk about it again, it would be too soon.” And that was the fucking truth. My life exploded into a giant heap of shit all at once.
Oakley sending that...compromising picture of me to everyone.
Kidnapping. Assault. Attempted rape.
Noah.
It was all too much at once, and I had to compartmentalize. I had to push something back to the darkest corners of my mind and fucking leave it there or else I’d go bat-shit crazy.
Andrew stepped closer, and I caught a subtle whiff of his musk cologne. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”
And like a fucking wrecking-ball, reality once again almost knocked me off my feet. “I can’t,” I blurted. “I mean...I don’t feel like drinking tonight.”