To Love a Kennedy

Chapter 7

Betsy pushed open the door to the gleaming high-rise where John's office was located. She had rehearsed this conversation a dozen times in her head, but now, standing in the polished lobby, she felt a flicker of uncertainty. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She was here to find John and sort things out, once and for all.

The elevator ride up was quick, and soon she found herself on the floor of his magazine, George. The atmosphere was buzzing with activity, journalists and staff moving around with purpose. Betsy spotted the nameplate on the door she was looking for: John F. Kennedy Jr., Editor-in-Chief.

As she approached, she noticed a woman sitting at the desk outside his office, typing briskly on her keyboard. The woman had short dark hair and a sharp, no-nonsense look in her eyes. She glanced up as Betsy approached, giving her a polite but curious once-over.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, her tone professional but friendly.

Betsy smiled, though she felt a bit out of her depth. "I'm Betsy Vanderbilt," she introduced herself. "I'm here to see John."

The woman's eyebrows lifted slightly, and a small smile crept across her lips. "Oh, you're Betsy," she said, as if that explained everything. "I'm RoseMarie. RoseMarie Terenzio. John's assistant."

Betsy extended a hand, and RoseMarie shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you," Betsy replied, trying to gauge the woman's reaction. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

RoseMarie laughed softly. "With John, there's always something going on," she said. "But nothing that can't wait. He's in his office. Let me see if he's free."

RoseMarie stood and knocked on the door to John's office, poking her head inside. Betsy could hear John's muffled voice, though she couldn't make out the words. RoseMarie turned back to her with a slightly bemused expression.

"He's free," she said, opening the door wider. "Go on in. He's been... well, let's just say he's been a bit unpredictable lately."

Betsy nodded, feeling a bit of apprehension as she stepped into John's office. John looked up from his desk, surprise flashing across his face before he masked it with a grin.

"Betsy," he greeted, leaning back in his chair. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Betsy didn't waste time with pleasantries. "We need to talk, John," she said, her tone firm.

John's grin widened. "That sounds serious," he said, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice. "Have a seat."

Betsy sat down across from him, crossing her legs and trying to maintain her composure. "Look, I've been thinking," she began. "This engagement... it's not working."

John's playful smile faltered. "Not working?" he repeated. "Is that news?"

Betsy sighed. "Don't be coy, John. You know what I mean. This whole thing has gone on long enough. It's time we find a way out."

John leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. "Out?" he echoed, a hint of amusement creeping back into his voice. "You want to call off our fake engagement? And here I thought you were starting to enjoy the perks of being a future Kennedy."

Betsy rolled her eyes. "Hardly. I'm just tired of pretending."

John tilted his head, studying her. "Okay, so what's your plan?"

Betsy took a deep breath. "We need to show everyone that we're completely incompatible," she explained. "We stage a few public arguments, make it look like we can't stand each other. Maybe our families will finally call the whole thing off."