Page 20 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

Sumner picked up a slice of bacon, but before he brought it to his lips, he paused. “You’re staring again.”

Because I can’t decide if you’re a breath of fresh air or something terrifying.

“You have toast crumbs on the corner of your mouth,” I said to him, returning my attention to my soggy waffle. When I began cutting into it while Sumner wiped at his nonexistent crumbs.

CHAPTER SIX

“I’ve always known you were impulsive, but I guess I never realizedhowimpulsive.”

My phone’s speaker volume threw my best friend’s voice off my hotel room’s walls. If I closed my eyes, I might’ve been able to convince myself she’d been present with me. I didn’t, though. I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling, the patterns in the plaster that I once found pretty, but now hated the sight of. I’d spent far too many hours of my life staring up at this ceiling.

“You kissed a waiter,” Destelle went on, half amused but fully shocked. “Who then turned out to be your newly hired secretary. I wish I’d been there to see it. I bet Ms. Nancy had a field day with that one.”

“She wasn’t there, unfortunately,” I replied. “But you’re right, the old bat would’ve shoved me out of the way to get a turn herself.”

Destelle laughed, the familiar sound taking away some of the tension in my chest. But only some. “Why did you kiss him, again?”

“To prove to Ms. Jennings I could.”

She laughed. “Now I really wish I’d been there, just to see the look on her face.”

In a way, Destelle and I were one and the same. Both of us were forced into the life of diamonds and glitz at a young age, destined to follow in the sparkling heeled footsteps of our parents. The parties and galas were bearable in high school because I at least had someone at my side who hated it all, too. Not as much, though. Whereas I was cast out, Destelle still fit in.

Sometimes, though, I wondered what life would’ve been like if our situations had been reversed. What it would’ve been like if I fit in.

Another major difference between us, of course, was that she got away from it all.

“How’s life in California?” I asked, tapping my foot on the mattress. “Sunny, warm, and surrounded with matcha lattes?”

Destelle had gone out on a country-wide road trip with her boyfriend and his band out of high school and never came back. Not for good, anyway. The band discovered they could reach a far wider audience in Los Angeles than they could in little ol’ Fenton County, which was fair. Destelle came back for the holidays, but the divide between us seemed larger, the gap never quite returning to the size it’d been before.

“Finallywarming up,” Destelle replied, then groaned. “I sound like a local now, complaining about sixty-degree winters.”

“Figures. I was over here freezing my butt off in ten-degree winters, but you go and whine about that Cali air.”

“I’ll try to bring some of it back with mewhen I come for Annalise’s wedding—which, my mother has made it clear I need to attend, unfortunately.”

“Of course you do,” I replied. “Even if your mother hadn’t made it clear, I’m making it clear—you are not allowed to leave me to the wolves at the event of the century.”

She chuckled again. “I hear the condescension in your voice loud and clear. Don’t stress, I’ll be there.”

My foot began tapping more firmly. I tried to force myself to stop, but the lack of movement only made my restlessness feel worse. “You’ll get to meet Aaron then. And you’ll get to hear all the ‘so, what do you want for your wedding’ talk.”

Destelle was quiet on the other end of the phone, and I listened to the white noise. I instantly regretted bringing it up. I could focus on nothing but the white noise that stretched between us. We’d been close enough in high school that there was a time I would’ve known exactly what she’d say. Known exactly what she’d been thinking.

Now, I found more comfort in her silence than I did in her words. “You’re still going through with it?” Destelle asked. “The engagement?”

“I suppose, technically, we aren’t engaged yet. My mother says he’ll propose when he arrives, though. She says the Astors look upon mefavorably.” Like I was a fat cow, prime for slaughter.

“Margot.” Destelle sighed. “Youdon’t have to go through with it. Marrying a complete stranger. Letting your parents decide that for you. You can say no.”

Once upon a time, I was the one pushing Destelle toward freedom and independence. She’d resented thefact that her parents controlled her life, dictated how she acted, and I’d been the one to encourage her to break the free from those restraints. That was before my parents closed ranks around me, before my own freedom went up in smoke.

It was an embarrassment when I thought about it now. Hypocritical. The memory of the previous version of me, with hopes and dreams and grit, made me sick. “You’re worrying about something you shouldn’t be,” I told her, forcing my tone level. “I don’t mind being pushed toward Aaron.”

“Youdon’t mind. Shouldn’t youwanttobe pushed toward him? Shouldn’t youwantto marry someone?”

While I envied Destelle for living the life she wanted, I did resent it when she brought the possibility up for myself. Throwing away everything you’d ever known was easy when your parents were ones you could fall back on. Destelle could’ve gone rogue, dropped out of school, got knocked up—anything, and her parents still have accepted her when she came back. They’d have grumbled and complained and probably made her feel like crap, but they would’ve had their arms open.

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