I worked my hands through my hair viciously, walking back and forth.
“I didn’t really mean to get her off—it just happened,” I laughed weakly. “She fell on my fingers.”
This is a fucking joke. There’s nothing I can say to her to make up for what I’d done. I tried to prove to myself that I’d be fine without her. That I didn’t need her. And instead all I fucking did was prove the opposite.
I dropped my hands on a sigh. “I want you a lot more than I should, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do come Christmas.”
“What are you doing?”
“Fuck.” I jumped at Gemma’s voice, finding my oldest sister with her arms folded. She’d changed out of her ball gown into sweat pants and an oversized sweatshirt but her rose gold hair, so similar to mine, was still done up for the party.
“What does it look like?” I snapped.
“Uh…it looks like you’re apologizing to yourself. And complimenting yourself. You really take narcissism to the next level. Be sure to avoid open pools of water.”
“Saw the Finsta hashtag,” I said. “Pretty gross, even for you. Didn’t think you fucked dogs.”
She glared. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
I don’t know a lot about what goes on between my sisters. There are three Crowne children, and two pedestals. My mom gave me one, and pitted Gemma and Abigail against each other for the other. The dirty secret? My mom already gave it to Gemma.
“You live in the World of Grayson. You don’t know what happens outside of it.”
I laughed. “And you are so empathetic to others?”
“I know that Abigail loves her dog, and he loves her. I know that her fiancé is a total psycho.”
“Anyone with two eyes can see that.”
“I know she was considering leaving him, leaving us, until tonight.”
Gemma kept walking, giving me no space to respond.
Give up everything. Not only disinherited but excommunicated. Could I do that? I wondered as I walked past my ever-present guards, into my lonely wing. Abigail was abandoning ship, but for me, it wouldn’t just be jumping overboard.
They counted on me to plug the leaks. To steer the ship. To hoist the sails. Without me, the boat would sink.
With an even messier head than when I’d left Lottie, I arrived at my room.
“Story, I’m—” I stopped completely, finding Story with a teetering mountain of items in her arms, like the first time she’d come to me. “Where are you going?”
“Back to Ms. Abigail. If she’ll still have me. If any of them will…”
She plopped the last cherry on top of her mountain, then attempted to walk past me. I grabbed her arm, spinning her until she faced my chest. Her mountain fell. Still, she refused to look at me.
“You think I’m done with you?”
She stared at my chest. I gripped her chin, forcing her stare, and she closed her eyes.
“You’re doing that again?” I gritted.
“This is who I am. Who we are.” She shoved me off. “You won. Let me out of my contract. She wants you. You’re kissing her. You’re doing…with…” She swallowed. “You’re getting married. Why am I here?”
If she would just fucking admit there was something between us. Give me something to grab on to before I jumped off the cliff. Before I destroyed everything. My family. My company. Everything I’d built.
“Because I own you until Christmas,” I said.
“In a few months you start your official engagement tour. Am I supposed to stay with you and your fiancée the entire time?”