Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
I don’t want to go against my grandmother’s wishes. I want to make her happy and do the exact right thing, always. Now, I’m doing everything she’s asked, and yet somehow, I still feel like I’m failing. I need advice, but I have no one to turn to, and that sad realization emphasizes the fact that I have never felt so utterly alone in all my life.
For sanity’s sake, I keep thoughts of Emmett on the periphery of my mind, as far from reach as possible. Every now and then, a sweeping feeling takes hold from either end of the spectrum: anger at him for playing with fire or pity over the fact that he’s been dragged into this. Though, one thing is for certain: I can’t completely absolve him of guilt. He questioned me, taunted me, flirted with me until ultimately, he got what he wanted. He lit the match, and we all burned.
While the days pass, I hear no further bits of information about the betrothal. I’m too nervous to bring it up to my grandmother, and she doesn’t broach the subject with me either. I’m almost delusional enough to think the problem will solve itself until two weeks after the trip to Lake Como, when Margaret and I are packing for the St. John’s Alumni Fundraiser. My grandmother comes in to survey what we’ve picked so far. She smooths the material of a Versace skirt. “Choose something especially pretty to wear for the event as it’ll be the first time you’re presented alongside your fiancé.”
Her words are a punch to my stomach, but when I look up, expecting more, she merely nods and turns back to the hallway.
I travel to New York City on my own. If I had friends from school, we could all meet up for a weekend in the city, brunches and shopping trips and blowouts galore. My grandmother would likely love to join me, but after Italy, she’s in need of rest. It was briefly discussed whether Margaret should come, but I pushed back, insisting I’d be all right.
I come to regret that decision.
The news of my betrothal to Emmett breaks the morning of the fundraiser. I’m sitting in my suite on the 32nd floor of the Baccarat Hotel, flipping through channels, trying to find something tolerable to watch while I eat my breakfast, when I suddenly see my face blown up on the TV screen. At first, I write it off as some personalized feature of the hotel, like a “Good morning, Lainey!” message…then that barely formed theory flies out the window as I register the rest of the screen and The Today Show cast.
They all sit huddled around a table, discussing me as casually as they would someone famous.
“Look at her style. It’s impeccable. Her makeup and hair.” Hoda points to the scrolling images of me in the corner of the screen. They’re from various events over the years, photos I honestly didn’t even know existed. “I think she’s reminiscent of a bygone era. She’s not like most socialites we see these days, so in your face with their extravagant lifestyles. I’m shocked she doesn’t have more of a social media following.”
Savannah nods. “Our team couldn’t find anything beyond a few fan accounts.”
Carson chimes in then. “So what do we know? She and Emmett went to the same boarding school in upstate New York—which, by the way, is incredibly hard to get into. I think just to get on the waitlist, you have to be the heir to a throne or come from major money.”
He brushes his thumb over the tip of his index and middle finger like he’s rubbing dollar bills together.
“Of course.” Savannah laughs. “It’s just like William and Kate meeting at the University of St. Andrews.”
“The comparisons don’t end there. Much like William, Emmett has always been in the spotlight. We all certainly know his name,” Hoda adds.
“But only as it pertains to his father’s company,” Savannah argues. “He does press every now and then, but he never seems to be in the news for personal reasons. I’ve never seen him in the tabloids or gossip magazines.”
“So what do we all think? A good match?” Hoda asks the group.
Al claps. “Excellent match.”
“But they’re never together!” Carson argues. “Their teams haven’t released a single photo of them as a couple.”
“So what?” Hoda asks. “Privacy is important to them, and I respect that.”
The other cast members agree, speculating that it was actually a carefully thought-out plan on our parts. We’re praised for protecting our fledgling relationship for so long before going public. Any women Emmett has had at his side or on his arm at recent events are written off as mere diversions. They speculate about what our children will look like, where we’ll live, if I will still work. Then they shift into a segment with a fashion correspondent from L.A. whose sole job is to guess which designer I’ll use for my wedding dress.