“But I missed my chance,” Nonny whispers.
“There’ll be other chances.” I’ll make sure of it.
She slowly lies back, putting an arm over her eyes. “I probably made a fool out of myself.” She pulls the blanket over her face. “Oh my god. What am I going to do? I’m so embarrassed.”
“Nonny, nobody thinks you did anything wrong. Everyone was just concerned. Please, don’t worry.”
“But Ryder Reed…!”
“He knows.”
“How?”
“Tiffany confessed to the whole thing.”
Nonny lowers her blanket and blinks up at me, her eyes owlish. “She did?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She…didn’t have much choice.” I made such a scene last night. It was so bad that none of Elliot’s siblings stayed for dinner afterward. I sigh. If anyone’s embarrassed, it’s me. I should’ve at least controlled myself enough that the dinner could proceed as planned. Now I’ll have to redo the event. “It’s all fine, sweetie.”
She sighs. “If you say so…”
“Do you want to get up or sleep some more?”
“Sleep. My head feels like it doesn’t want to stay attached to my neck.”
Of course not. A hangover was the reason why I didn’t realize that a boy…or boys… had taken advantage of me while I was passed out, drunk, until much later. My head hurt too much the next morning, and my stomach roiled until I thought I’d throw up…and eventually did. I was too sick to notice anything else was wrong. And I was already sore all over from a particularly grueling hockey game the day before against a team that liked to play rough. One of the opposing players slapped my upper thigh so hard with his stick that it bruised black.
“Why don’t you get some more rest?” I say. “Maybe another hour? And after that, you ought to eat something.” I don’t know what you eat to cure a hangover, but I’m sure the internet will have some useful advice.
She sighs. “Okay.” Closing her eyes, she reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Anna?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
I squeeze back. “My pleasure.”
I watch her body slowly relax, then finally leave. I really do feel bad about what happened last night, and I need to write every guest, except Tiffany, a letter of apology. I don’t want to go into my past or explain myself. I regret telling Elliot so much in my emotional upheaval. It doesn’t concern him, and it’s not like anything will change from talking about it. The only thing it accomplished was to repel him and reveal more about myself than
I feel comfortable with. People don’t like to hear about ugly things, especially someone like Elliot who grew up in wealth and privilege.
The marriage is only for a year. Less, now. All I have to do is suck it up, and Nonny and I can leave with a cool million. It’s stupid of me to jeopardize the future I can secure for us.
I inhale deeply. I even stripped because I had to. Surely I can survive a year in this fancy home, even if Elliot does screw around. I just need to refortify myself, rebuild the wall around my heart, one brick at a time. It can be done. Sure it can. The new wall’s going to be so strong that not even kindness to my sister can put a crack in it. And so tall no one will be able to even see the top.
I go back out. Elliot’s still not back. Probably still with the brunette. I take a quick peek out the peephole, but don’t see anyone. Where did they go? Maybe some place more private for their “talk”?
The second the thought enters my mind, I shake my head. That is precisely not what I should be thinking about if I’m going to survive the year.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. Frowning, I check it. A text.
Don’t you dare think you can get away with it.
Dennis again. What does he think I’m getting away with? Is he bitter that I snagged Elliot, and thereby am getting a better life than him? If so, he shouldn’t be. On the other hand, it could be something else. He seems to think I’m trying to ruin him somehow. The last thing I want is to have our lives tangle anymore than they have to. We both suffered so much loss and pain. There’s nothing between us except an ugly past we’re trying to forget.