Page 27 of Craving Oblivion

Nash, by giving me this bracelet, had managed to give me back a piece of my mother.

I drew in a long, slow breath that filled my belly from the bottom up and released it just as slowly. I could handle my father’s machinations, Alistair’s, too. I could also handle my continued unabated infatuation with Nash Porter. I’d survived my teenage years and was beginning to thrive, finding my niche professionally at an electric-vehicle company owned by one of my father’s colleagues. While I’d originally wanted to go into aeronautical engineering—work for Virgin or Elon Musk’s space company—I’d created a life for myself, possibly with some affection and a partnership with Alistair.

We needed a few more months, maybe a year, to work through the kinks, for me to be sure he understood my goals for myself, how important it was for me to honor my mother’s family…

“Surprise!”

I jolted back to reality, my shoulders tensing at the smiling sea of faces. My father’s grin was wide, his eyes warm as he offered me benign acceptance. His wife, Lady Harriet, gave me a tight-lipped smile—the closest to a look of approval I’d ever received from her.

Alistair’s parents clapped politely, seeming a bit less enthusiastic about the affair. I could completely understand.

“What…” My voice trailed off as my gaze landed on the chilled champagne bottles and the banner hanging that read, Congratulations, Alistair and Aya. Below our names were entwined rings.

“Were you not planning to discuss marriage with me before you announced it?” I whispered, swaying slightly.

Alistair shifted on his feet, his gaze drifting to my father’s. “Why would I want to minimize the surprise? This is romantic—a whirlwind of romance.”

Alistair seemed to be parroting words, the words my mother had told me my father said when he’d asked her to marry him. Why on Earth would he have thought they’d be what I wanted to hear?

My skin seemed to tighten. I didn’t want this. My gaze continued to roam the assembly of faces, seeking something.

Then my eyes stopped. Lindsay stood off to the side, seemingly out of place. She was pale, her eyes even more red-rimmed than mine from my earlier crying jag. She didn’t try to smile. She downed the mimosa in her hand and grabbed another. A heavy-set older gent stood next to her, his jowls quivering in indignation as he glared down at her.

That must be Lindsay’s father. I’d never met the man and didn’t plan to. He lowered his head and grumbled something, causing Lindsay to flinch, her face going slack with…was that fear?

Despite everything, sympathy stirred in my gut. Lindsay cared deeply for Alistair—even more than she feared her father. Those emotions clashed together for her today. Her father strode off, no doubt having told her to behave or else.

I knew a bully when I saw one. I studied Lindsay, noted the longing in her eyes as she gazed at Alistair, which reminded me of how I must have looked at Nash. And, just as obvious, Lindsay cared enough for him to show up at his engagement to another woman. She was unhappy but putting on a brave face—something I’d never done, I realized.

I’d never given Nash the opportunity to explain, and I’d never been willing to examine why things might have happened the way they did at Hugh’s birthday party. I’d just assumed, carried off on a wave of hurt and fear and insecurity. Lindsay had been pretty, the most popular girl in our school. I’d always felt dowdy and less-than next to her, so when I saw Nash wrapped around her, I’d accepted that as truth, rolled over without a fight. I’d been too ashamed, too grief-stricken to process any of it or stick up for myself, for what I’d had with Nash.

Instead I’d run. I’d let my father take my phone. I’d let Harriet soothe me, telling me I didn’t need those terrible children in my life—that they wouldn’t benefit my new station as the viscount’s oldest daughter.

I hadn’t fought. I’d accepted. Existed. That’s all I’d done since.

My breath hitched, and I smoothed the malas. What would my mother say to this set of events? To the way I’d allowed the world to dictate its terms to me? I rubbed my opposite thumb over the beads, letting them settle me. My breathing evened.

Alistair had assumed I’d marry him because he was an earl. He was such the catch in London circles that he needn’t ask me because of course I’d want him. He clutched my waist, reinforcing the idea that he planned to keep me nearby. The light in Lindsay’s eyes dimmed further as she grabbed another glass.

Sweat slicked from my armpits and down my back as I realized Alistair was just like my father: a manipulative man who’d force a woman to bend to his will, her opinions and feelings notwithstanding. I knew in that moment that what Jenna Grace had told me she’d heard him say at the bar at The Children’s Ball was one-hundred-percent true.

My head began to ache, and I let the bracelet’s tassel feather over my palm. I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed its soothing weight, this feathery touch. Only now was I finally whole, finally able to see clearly again.

I met my father’s gaze, time seeming to slow. If I refused this, he wouldn’t simply be disappointed in me. It would mean losing my position at his friend’s firm. However, though I liked the work, I wasn’t sure I cared. Additionally, I’d be free of my father’s monthly financial needs and all the reasons he asked me to just help a little more, a little longer, to let him and Harriet give my sisters “the lives they deserved, after all.”

If I withdrew my financial support, he’d ban me from his home. When and if we spoke, the conversation would likely be limited to the same series of unflattering comments about my life, my clothes, my choices.

If we spoke.

But thanks to Alistair, we ran in the same circles. Currently.

My gaze settled once more on Lindsay, who, surprisingly, met my gaze. Heartache seeped from her eyes, reminding me of how I’d felt when she tugged Nash up the stairs. She must have been remembering too, because her eyes filled with tears and she looked at the floor. After all this time, had Lindsay finally realized how much she’d hurt me? I could certainly return the favor. In fact, part of me wanted to, just so Lindsay would comprehend fully what it meant to have her life’s dreams utterly crushed.

She looked up and licked her lips. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she mouthed please.

The quiver of indignation swelled in my chest.

“Well?” my father said, impatience seeping into his tone.

---