left in a cloud of muddy snow as she sped away from her problems. There was a wistful sort of regret that engulfed her as she got on the Long Island Expressway and headed back toward Manhattan.
Dang.
This must be how Inigo felt when he was racing. There was a certain freedom from everything but the road and concentrating on the path ahead of her. Maybe she should take up driving professionally.
As soon as the thought popped into her head, she hit an icy patch and her car hydroplaned for a minute, fishtailing wildly on the road. She took her foot off the gas as she saw her life flash before her eyes.
Damn.
She slowed the car and pulled onto the shoulder. Her hands were shaking, and her heart was racing. She didn’t want to die. She sat there. The silence in the car made her ears ring, and finally she turned on the radio. “About Last Night” was playing, so she flipped the station and heard Debussy’s “La mer.” Yeah, classical was good. Just what she needed right now.
She dug into her purse and found her phone. Scarlet had texted her.
Are you okay? I wish you hadn’t left like that.
What could she say?
I’m not great. I’m sorry. I could tell I was freaking her out, and you know I’m not good in those situations. I hope I didn’t make things awkward for you.
Scarlet and Siobhan had been the first women friends she’d genuinely had in years, and she hadn’t wanted to screw it up. But maybe she had. Maybe she should stop trying and just enjoy the train wreck that was usually her life.
You didn’t. Well, it was awkward, but I feel like both of you were freaked. If you want to talk, I’m going to be in the city until Friday. Let’s have coffee…by that I mean you drink the coffee and I smell it and pretend that I’m having some.
Marielle felt a wave of relief go through her.
Thank you. I’d love that. I’m heading back to New York now. My parents’ house was stifling. I’m sorry again for this morning.
I know the feeling. No problem. Can’t wait to catch up.
She tossed the phone back into her bag before she asked for Inigo’s number. A part of her felt like she should say something to resolve the situation with him, but another part—the smarter part—knew there would be no resolution. She could keep him in her memories as a fun night. And that was all.
Her phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID. It was her friend Siobahn Murphy, who was the lead singer of Venus Rising. The two liked to party together, and she was always down for a good time. Just what Marielle needed at this moment.
“Hey, girl, happy New Year,” she said as she answered the speakerphone and got back on the road.
No more driving fast to outrun her problems. She sat in the slow lane going a respectable speed.
“Hiya. Scar texted me,” Siobahn said. “What the hell happened?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, I met this cute guy and he was funny and flirty. Even his dad was funny, encouraging him to talk to me. We kissed at midnight…it was hot,” Marielle said. More than hot. It had made her see him as more than a hookup. She had to be honest with herself. She hated the way things had ended with Inigo. But she doubted there was any way back from the current situation.
“Yeah, and then?”
“Then one thing led to another, and I spent the night with him,” she said.
Siobahn wasn’t fishing for lurid sex details. But there was no way to explain the thing without mentioning that.
“Then this morning he invited me to breakfast with his family, and I knew Scar would be there, so I was, like, sure,” Marielle said. Then she walked in and saw Jose’s wife staring at her like she was the most loathsome woman on the face of the planet… Maybe she’d skip mentioning that bit to Siobahn. “And…”
“I know. You don’t have to say it. I’m in Manhattan. Come to my place. We can eat ice cream or drink wine or do whatever you need. Don’t go to your place alone,” Siobahn said. “You need someone to remind you that you aren’t that woman anymore.”
“Thanks,” she said. She had changed a lot from who she’d been at twenty-one, and it had been a long hard road with lots of pitfalls. But she had changed. She hadn’t made peace with all of her past, but one thing she had made were good friends like Siobahn. She’d been the one who’d introduced her to Scarlet and had started her on this path.
“I’ll text you when I’m close.”
“I’ll be here. I’m eating leftover ham, which isn’t healthy, but I’m a bit hungover,” Siobahn said.
Marielle had to laugh. She didn’t drink like that anymore but remembered those days. She hung up with her friend, realizing that Bianca might never forgive her, but Marielle had to find a way to forgive herself. She couldn’t keep beating herself up for old sins.
Not saying it would be easy, but she was going to definitely make that one of her resolutions.
The weather this first week of January reflected Marielle’s mood as she left her building on the Upper West Side. It was bitterly cold with a messy sleet and rain falling. The doorman held an umbrella over her head as she dashed to her waiting car. Her driver held the door open as she slid onto the leather seat and the welcome heat. She thanked them.
Scarlet had been true to her word and helped her out despite the fact that it must have caused friction with her new in-laws. But then again Scar knew what it was like to be the center of negative attention. They’d grown up in similar worlds, Marielle thought.
But even career pluses couldn’t take away the ache inside when she thought of that encounter with Bianca. It wasn’t that she’d really considered Inigo to be a guy she wanted in her life. For all she knew, they might not even be compatible. He might be one of those guys who drank beer out of a bottle and didn’t use a coaster…or something like that. But the fact that she didn’t get to let it fall apart the way her relationships always did…that bugged her. That had to be what was bothering her.
But she couldn’t miss a guy whom she’d slept with one night and that was it.
She wouldn’t let herself.
She wasn’t that girl.
She had never needed a man after Jose. He’d changed that dream of hers. The one where she met a guy and he swept her off her feet and they lived some sort of fantasy life providing her a Disney Channel–perfect family, not the messed-up one that was hers. But she’d learned that she was better on her own.
Men were fun.
Inigo had been fun.
Until…
But that was in the past and she was moving on. She had an interview with a lifestyle brand that wanted to work with her. She had a manager who had worked hard to get the appointment for her, and she was glad for it. She’d even gone all in and dressed like Blair from Gossip Girl. She wanted to look the part of what they wanted. On every influencer account she’d checked out, the look was a mix between Jackie O and The Official Preppy Handbook.
The heels she wore were designer, but her manager said if she wanted the work, she needed to make a decision to either flaunt her family name or hide it. She couldn’t use it when she wanted to and then drop it when she didn’t.
So she’d decided to use her middle name instead of her last name and pretend she wasn’t part of one of America’s richest families. She didn’t want to rely on the name. She’d seen what it had done to her brother Darian. Holding an unlit cigarette in the garage and looking like a trapped animal. But her brother