My parents are standing side by side, waiting for me when I pull up. My father’s stern face gives nothing away, but my mother’s tears and clenched hands tell me all I need to know.
“Carson,” my mother cries out as she runs to meet me, throwing herself at me for a hug.
Her grip is tight, her sobs loud. I place my arm around her, trying to give her the comfort she needs, but feeling nothing. My eyes are locked onto my father, but he’s too chickenshit to look me in the face. He turns to go inside.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I’m so happy you’re home.” She pulls away, wiping tears from her face with a handkerchief from her pocket.
“I won’t be here for long. I just need to get a few things, then I’ll be out of the way. I have an event tonight.”
“Are you talking about the Children’s Foundation Gala?” she asks, taking my hand and leading me into the house.
Harris is on standby and gives a brief nod before realizing I have no luggage.
“Yes. Are you and Father going?”
“We aren’t ready to go back into society yet. It’s been less than a year since . . .”
Her voice trails off as she clutches the handkerchief to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. The sorrow I should feel for her isn’t there. I don’t feel any pity for the woman who chose to let my brother die.
“If you have no need of the invitation, I’d like it.”
“Why are you concerned about a children’s auction? It’s unlike you to want to go to something like this. Are you planning on bidding on the Pink Star diamond? I heard it’ll be part of the private sales.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, nor do I care to flash money around. This is for Bliss. Not for my parents, not for society.
“Is there a buy-in for the dinner? I don’t have time to look at the catalogue.”
“I’ve donated for the tickets already. You don’t have to bid at the auction. It would be nice if you did, though. After all, it is for the children.”
I see a bit of red before I snap out of it. Leaving her at the end of the stairs, I rush up to my old room. I need a few things before I go. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for Bliss, and tonight I’m ready to show her that.
If Ashton was here, he’d call me crazy. Or maybe he’d agree with me. Bliss has a way of getting under your skin and not leaving.
My closet seems like someone else’s house. Rows of clothes hang along the walls, and there’s a couch in the center with my watch dresser, but I’m not here for any of it. I’m looking for the one thing that my grandmother gave me before she died. Something that I never would have thought I’d touch again. An heirloom that has been passed down for generations. A diamond and sapphire bracelet that will be my promise to her. A promise to always take care of her and be by her side.
I select a tuxedo next, something appropriate for the occasion. Suddenly, I feel nervous. What if this is too soon? She could reject me, or it could be a mistake. This is a bold move, something I’m not sure will work, but it is my truth. I have to make her see that I’m all in. That this isn’t just some vacation fling.
“Mr. Stagg?” Harris knocks on the closet door. “I have the invitation for you.”
The small envelope sits on the dresser, its presence like a door that’s about to be opened. One that could either destroy or save me.
BLISS
I can’t believe Royce is making me go to this event. He should have said no. Our family doesn’t have to be at every major party. I don’t hate this dress, though. It’s a gorgeous midnight blue with layers of sheer chiffon dusting my legs. The neckline is higher than I normally wear, but the crystals on the bodice make up for it. My mother thought it would be nice for me to have something to wear, so she hand-selected this dress.
The museum is dressed up with glitz and glamor. Everything you’d expect a Hollywood party to be. Paparazzi hound the entrance. Cameras flash with bright bulbs, making my head hurt.
I lower the partition in the limo. “Is there a back entrance?”
The driver turns the car and follows the road to the back of the building. We aren’t the only ones thinking this would be a good idea. By the time we get to the entrance, twenty minutes have passed.
“Good evening, Ms. Meyer. May I see your invitation?” the woman with a clipboard asks, a bright smile on her face.
Opening my purse, I pull out the thick card-stock and hand it over to her. She, in turn, hands me my ballot and number. The noise of the crowd takes over as I step one stilettoed foot onto the rich, plush carpet.
Familiar faces surround me, and I try not to grimace at a few eye rolls and the judging faces. There isn’t much that these people wouldn’t know. I haven’t exactly been private about my escapades.
“Bliss! Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been so long,” Marissa says, air-kissing me on both cheeks.
Her blonde hair bounces over one slim naked shoulder. The blue dress she has on hugs all the curves her doctor gave her.
“How are you?” I ask, faking concern. I’m going to have to try to get away from her as fast as possible.
“Great. I just got married again. French diplomat. Totally hot and stupid rich. We even have a villa in the south of France. I mean, is there anything better than that?”
I can think of a few