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Lani, the only other sane Nu Theta Nu Nu sister, strolls past my door. “Marge, leave Pheebs alone.” She waves her hand, ever the most graceful one of the house.
Marjorie stares at the door, then back at me. “Anyway—”
“I’m not telling you anything about Ben.”
She snorts, but I cross my arms over my chest and give her every morsel of contempt I can.
“You’re no fun.” Marjorie turns up her nose and leaves my room in a huff.
But I don’t care.
Like my brother, Ben and his brothers don’t advertise that they’re billionaires, but they were big enough in San Francisco to draw attention to themselves. Once your name is out in the public arena, everyone wants to know how much you make and how much you’re worth.
Do I benefit from the wealth that the Steel brothers and Elijah have accrued? Yes.
I’m at the school I wanted to attend because Elijah insisted on paying. It’s part of the reason I can’t go back home. I’d just disappoint him and prove everyone right.
Do I feel comfortable talking about that wealth when they themselves actively draw attention away from it? Absolutely not.
There’s too much riding on all our reputations for me to be the one who messes that up. I also never want Ben to think I’m interested in him for his money. Depending on him is the last thing I ever want to do. I get that it’s not healthy to have such a chip on my shoulder, but my mom’s really rubbed off on me.
After my dad left, she made it clear to Elijah and me that the best thing we could ever do in life was to be independent from our significant others.
She was stunned when my father left us. Thinking she could trust him, she depended on his income while Elijah and I were little. And then he left with everything he thought he was owed. That didn’t include his children or who we thought was the love of his life. Apparently, he hated being a father, and it was easier to walk away than continue living a life he built but didn’t want.
Clover Creek rallied around us, stepping in when we were reeling from the change. Now, you’d never know she was ever knocked off her feet. She regained her composure with so much strength and so much grace. She’s my hero.
My phone buzzes right as the doorbell rings and I jump.
Ben: You deserve something you feel good wearing.
My heart thunders in my chest as I rush down the hallway. Marjorie’s at the door, holding a large box while trying to sign for the package.
“This is for you.” She grunts and deposits the box in my arms.
Not wanting her to see what Ben sent me, I shuffle to my room and open it.
A small gasp escapes my lips as I peel back layers of tissue paper. Nestled carefully in the center is a soft pink ballgown. The empire waist tapers in with a silky satin ribbon that I can’t stop running my finger across.
It’s the most authentic looking Regency dress I’ve ever touched and I’m ready to cry.
When I asked Ben to be my date, I overshared and told him my dress wasn’t anything special, just the best thing I could find locally. I mentioned it so he didn’t think he had to go all out for his outfit and then show up to see me wearing something drab.
Phoebe: You shouldn’t have. It’s beautiful!!
Ben: If it’s overstepping, tell me and I won’t do it again. But if any part of you loves that dress, accept it as my gift to you. A thank you for inviting me.
I run my finger over the delicate flowers embroidered into the soft pink fabric and sigh. If I accept it, will he think I expect gifts like this? Should I tell him thanks, but no thanks?
Every part of me loves this dress, though. It’s exactly what I would have picked out for myself if I had found it first.
“It’s just a gift,” I mutter to myself as I type out a thank-you message that can’t possibly convey how much I love this dress.
Ben: You have to wait until Saturday to see what I’m wearing ;)
Phoebe: Not even a peek?
Ben: Not even a peek. And don’t think about asking Elijah or Mila. Neither of them will tell you.
