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KATHERINE / KINGSTON
Katherine
“There must be some mistake.” I tighten my grip on my cell phone as if the added pressure will iron out this new wrinkle in my universe.
Then I wrap an arm around my waist, trying to ward off the nervous energy. But it doesn’t work. I’m vibrating with frustration. Or perhaps it’s anger.
That’s just as likely.
Because even as the words leave my lips, I have a sinking sensation. There’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach and an alarm in the back of my mind, complete with bright flashing lights behind my eyelids.
“Oh,” the voice on the other end of the line says, clearly confused. I’ll give her points for sounding vaguely apologetic, but it doesn’t stop what comes next. “Mrs. Winthrop said you’d be delighted to help us out.”
I narrow my gaze at my reflection in the window. Delighted, huh?
My stomach was right.
“By selling myself to the highest bidder?” I keep my voice flat because I doubt it’s this woman’s fault that my mother lied to her. But I’m not about to make things easy, either.
“It’s just a date,” she rushes. “That’s all you’re agreeing to.”
I get that this woman doesn’t know the complicated relationship I have with my mother, but a date is not all I’m agreeing to. Manipulation. That’s worse than agreeing to a date with anyone I can think of.
I pause in front of the tall windows, staring out at the rapidly approaching night.
Even with New York City at my feet, I feel trapped. Suffocated.
Part of me wants to tell this woman there’s no way I’m showing up to this bachelorette auction. But I’m sure they’ve already had materials printed with my name on them.
“And it’s for a great cause. You’ve heard about...”
I tune her out. It’s always for a great cause. And my family supports plenty of organizations. Hell. We have our own foundation. I’m just too mentally drained to focus.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” I tell her and disconnect the call.
“Breathe, Katherine,” I whisper to myself.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
The city twinkles up at me like a sequined quilt, alive, energetic and teaming with possibilities. I’ve always loved feeling connected to the pulse of humanity, but lately, Manhattan has felt claustrophobic. And tonight, tonight I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs.
How many times will my own mother defy my wishes?
I still remember being six years old and wanting nothing more than a unicorn-themed birthday party with a pony for the kids to ride. But no, that wouldn’t do. She had to show me off to her friends at the club. No unicorn decor. No pony.
I should be over it; it’s such a first-world problem. Yet that unfulfilled wish is the example that remains a splinter beneath my skin, reminding me all these years later that my life is not my own. Katherine Montgomery’s life is planned and choreographed. I’m merely a chess piece being moved around the board.
Nausea threatens, and I glance up at the inky sky, willing my body to settle. I blow out a long sigh. “It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.”
No one’s perfect, I get that.
But she knows I just broke up with Tyler the Terrible two months ago. I’ve told her I’m not ready to date again. Unlike her, I don’t clamor for the limelight. I prefer being single. The idea of standing on a stage in front of a hundred people makes my heart pound so hard that I should probably see a cardiologist.
I pace around the low-slung sectional in my living room. If only I had the money my grandfather left me. I’d write a check for whatever charity the auction supports and be done with it.
No auction. No fuss. No embarrassment.
