We’ve been here forty-minutes already and so far the only time she’s released me was when I went to take a piss, and I didn’t even have to go. I just needed a breather.
“There’s my beautiful daughter!” Carissa’s mother, Caitlyn Forbes, floats toward us, arms outstretched and Southern drawl in full force. “My goodness, you look radiant, Carissa. And Zane, you look very handsome. I’m sure Carissa dressed you from head to toe. She’s always liked to play dress up with all her boyfriends.”
Boyfriends?
“Mother.” Carissa pretends to be annoyed. “Zane dressed himself tonight actually.”
“Well, my, my.” Her mother pats my hand, giving me a side-grin. “You must know how to stand your ground with this one. I’d love to talk to you later, maybe get some pointers from you. She’s been steamrolling her father and me since the day she was born.”
Carissa’s father passes through a group of guests, saying hello before taking his place beside his wife.
“Don’t these two look adorable?” Caitlyn muses. “I could just eat them up. Picture perfect. Oh. That reminds me. I should take a picture of them.”
“No,” I say.
Carissa shoots me a look, and Caitlyn wears a quizzical leer.
“I beg your pardon?” Caitlyn asks.
Mr. Forbes gives me a dirty look, a notch beyond the one he gave me last time we were this close to one another.
“I’m just not into pictures,” I say.
“This would be for our family albums,” she says. “Caitlyn’s our only daughter. We just like to document everything. Goodness, I think I’ve saved every school photo, all her baby teeth, and every last Barbie doll.”
“Come on, baby. No one will see these but our family.” Carissa massages the underside of my arm, cocking her head sideways and laying on a sweet smile as her parents watch. “It would make Mama so happy.”
Mr. Forbes clears his throat, giving me the evil eye, and then his gaze passes through me, landing on the far side of the room where their son Taylor stands by the bar, schmoozing a few of the players. I watch him hand over his card.
Taylor fucking Forbes.
Not only is he a notorious douche bag and the brother of my criminally insane stalker, he also once tried to swipe Mirabelle out from under me, telling her she deserved better than filthy scum like me. He’ll be forever on my shit list because of that.
The sad thing is, had she run off with Taylor, she wouldn’t be spending the rest of her life in isolation in some assisted care facility.
Life’s a fucking bitch sometimes.
The day I saw him leaving Rue’s, I shoulder-checked him on the sidewalk and told him Delilah was mine despite the fact that she very much wasn’t. Maybe I was skating by on arrogance and charm at that point, but deep down, a baser part of me knew something else was brewing.
“Come on, baby,” Carissa coos into my ear. “Let’s refill our drinks. Be a gent and order me a lemon drop martini, will you?”
I’m distracted, scanning the room for some kind of clock so I can see how many more hours I have left in literal hell, and when I turn around, Carissa’s standing before me, rising on her toes and bringing her mouth to mine for a lingering, closed-lip kiss.
By the time I realize what just happened, the first thing I do is glance around the room to make sure nobody saw. There’s a handful of photographers here with press passes, and the last thing I need is the immortalization of this unwanted kiss with a single photo.
“Zane?” A woman’s voice calls me from behind.
I turn on my heel, instantly recognizing Daphne Rosewood. Weston stands behind her, giving me the kind of concerned look you never want to see on the face of your best friend.
“I’m confused . . .” Daphne cocks her head, her gaze pointing at Carissa, who’s busy talking to someone yet still takes the time to slip her arms around my waist from behind.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I say under my breath. “I can explain.”
“Save it.” Daphne’s normally sweet demeanor darkens and her brows meet. “And stay the hell away from my sister.”
“Daphne,” I call out as she walks off. “Weston, wait.”
They’re long gone, and I’m stuck here with this raven-haired paperweight in a dress ironically better suited for an angel.
I can’t breathe.
Gripping Carissa’s hands, I shove them off and move away from her hold.
“Hey.” She pouts. I storm off. “Where are you going?”
“Give me one goddamned minute to myself.” I yell at her, voice booming so loud it hurts my own ears and silences the conversations around us. My jaw is iron-tight, clenched. I see nothing but a sea of red. “God, I can’t breathe with you clinging onto me like this. Just leave me alone, Carissa. This entire charade of yours is goddamned pathetic. Grow the fuck up.”
Carissa’s bottom lip trembles, her eyes growing glassy as her father comes to her side. I see him nod across the room where two security guards flank the entrance. They cut through the crowd, headed toward me.
And just like that . . .
I’m fucked.
Chapter 36
Delilah
“Morning, sunshine.” I brew a pot of coffee as my sister stumbles into the kitchen Sunday morning.
It’s going to be a long day. We’ve got a few more things to pack before the big furniture movers come. Somewhere along the line, I was fortunately able to convince Rue I wasn’t capable of moving her china cabinet, king-sized bed, or extra-tall dresser.