“Cool.” I honestly don’t have another word for it.
“Ben and I go back a long way.” Her cheeks flush as she stares at him, clearly reliving something fantastic.
Ben?
His mother points my way as she chats with someone. The woman standing next to her eyes me appraisingly. She doesn’t look super impressed with what she sees. They lean into each other and continue talking, even though I can completely see them and am aware they are judging me.
Melody turns and smiles again. “So, when will you start having babies? Directly after the wedding, like Will and Kate?”
I shrug, not caring about Will and Kate and certainly not wanting to tell her we will never have kids.
“His mother is certain you are already with child and that is why the wedding is on.”
I give her a look. “We aren’t planning to get married until the spring. I would be due by then if I were pregnant now.” I say it more harshly than I had intended, earning a wide-eyed look from her.
She laughs, placing a hand on my shoulder, recovering quickly from the shock of my tone. “Oh, of course you would. How silly of me. I suppose they are just very anxious to have grandchildren. It isn’t as if Henry is in any hurry to settle down.” Her eyes lower.
It’s then that I answer my own question: is the juice worth the squeeze? It is not. This family is batshit crazy, and I am on the verge of tears, mostly because I know it won’t ever work. As much as he pretends they aren’t his life, I can see they are.
I don’t need to be with him to love him. I loved him for years before we ever got together, and I will continue to love him throughout the life he is so obviously meant to have with this blonde who wants to rub that in my face.
I pull out my phone, sending my 911 request.
It won’t even look weird leaving by helicopter here. I imagine each of the guests have several.
The house gets busier, but Angie doesn’t answer my message. I don’t even get a “delivered” receipt. She’s turned her phone off, knowing I would need rescuing? Dick move.
Melody introduces me as Ben’s charming girlfriend, obviously ignoring the ring on my finger. The one everyone’s eyes land on.
I meet a senator, a doctor, a lawyer, a judge, a lady with a ring on every finger like she’s wearing all her jewelry at once. I meet women with such obvious plastic surgery I fight not to stare, and men who constantly stare at my nearly flat chest in disappointment. Melody, of course, has beautiful breasts—the validity of them is in question at least in my mind.
The white wine starts to give me a headache, something that happens every single time. Something that Dash knew when he gave me the glass. I dump it into a plant as I walk past, desperate to find my escape out on the terrace again, with the lilacs and the moon, which has just risen.
I slump into a seat, a very fine seat for patio furniture, and stare at the cast-iron statue of the boys frolicking in the garden.
“Are you hiding?” The voice is Dash’s but then it’s not. I glance up to see the face and eyes of Dash but just a little different. I don’t know what to make of it.
“Yes,” I answer honestly.
“I’m Henry, Ben’s older brother.” His very English brother with a very English accent.
“I’m Jane, Dash’s—er—friend from above the Mason–Dixon line.” I should have said girlfriend but I didn’t. The word felt wrong, less so than fiancée, but still wrong.
“Of course you are.” He chuckles and sits in the chair next to me. “Dash—I haven’t heard that since Eton. He always loved that name.” He gives me a sly grin. “I assume he likes you more than a friend might if he lets you call him that. Only his best friends ever called him Dash.”
I exhale my laugh. “Well, I think he loves the idea of being his own man, and I suspect I help him with that.”
“He has always enjoyed rebelling against the fold.” Henry nods, sipping his glass of red wine.
I scowl. “How did you get a glass of red?”
“I poured it. Sir George insists we drink white or champagne before dinner, and red with it. He’s a stickler for tradition. This is my version of rebellion.” He takes a huge gulp and passes me the glass. I take a drink from the other side of the glass.
“How badly was he broken when Melody dumped him?”
Henry chuckles just the way Dash does. “Oh, he told you about that, did he?”
I shake my head. “Not a word on it, ever.”
“So she told you then?”
I shake my head again.
“How do you know?”
I shrug. “I get paid to read people.”
His eyes narrow. “Liar! That can’t be a real profession.”