Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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"Blondie, what the hell?" Jo asks, accusation in her voice, as I reach the counter. "Were you planning on telling me?"
"About what?"
"Greyson told me what happened. Are you okay?"
Wonderful. I was hoping to keep my stupid, drunken mistake to myself, but thanks to Greyson, the whole town will know by the end of the day.
Why can't he leave me alone and mind his own damn business?
"Yeah, I'm fine. It wasn't a big deal," I lie.
"Did he have to hold your hair back too?"
I furrow my brows in confusion. "Hold my – what are you talking about?"
"Greyson said you got really sick at the club, and he took you home. Said he waited until you fell asleep, and until he was sure you weren't going to choke on your own vomit." She slides the box with the peach pie my mother ordered toward me and wrinkles her nose. "How awkward was that?"
He didn't tell her. He kept what really happened a secret.
"Oh...yeah. Super awkward. Good thing I was too drunk to remember." I laugh awkwardly. "What time are you done today?"
"Four o'clock. Then, I have to pick up Hannah from my parents."
"Well, Addie and Jamie are home from London and they're coming for dinner. My dad's grilling. Come over after you pick her up."
"Oh, okay! I can be there by four-thirty. Is that okay?"
"Perfect." I pick up the pie and wave over my shoulder as I turn to leave. "See you later!"
_____
"Hello!" I hear my sister call from the driveway. "Party's here!"
Adelaide and I haven't physically seen each other since my wedding. Living in different states and her work schedule makes it difficult to see each other. We text every day and Facetime weekly, but we've always been close, and I miss her terribly. She's been in London doing research for her debut novel since I got home, and I can't wait to spend time with my big sister.
As soon as I hear her voice, I jump off the back deck so I can run to her – nearly spraining my ankle in the process. She looks stunning. Her light-brown hair is shorter than the last time I saw her and is now painted with caramel highlights and cut into a choppy bob. Her deep-set, hazel eyes are an earthy brown, but when she looks at me, they glisten like an old copper penny being examined in the sun. The London fog didn't affect her tan, although she's always had a deeper complexion than me. Where I get burnt by the sun, she morphs into a bronze goddess.
"Come here so I can hug you!" I shout.
She drops her handbag on the pavement and wraps her arms around my neck. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you when you needed me."
