Page 38 of Trust Fund Baby

Roxie snorted but didn’t move away. Her response was delayed, but when she spoke, her eyes revealed a sorrow that was new to me.

“When we were kids, this was my dream. But now that I’ve made it, I’m not nearly as happy as I thought I’d be.”

Her voice wasn’t bitter, just … tired. Like someone who’d been chasing something for so long, they hadn’t realized they might not like what was waiting for them at the finish line.

I said nothing. Just watched her tip her head back as the wind swept under the brim of her hat and caught a few strands of hair.

“If you get everything you thought you ever wanted and still feel something’s missing, maybe it’s not the dream that was wrong. Maybe it’s the version of yourself that you had to build on your own. You’re not done yet.”

She turned her head to look at me, sunglasses still low enough that I could see the storm behind her eyes.

“Easy for you to say,” she said. “You’ve never had to do it alone.”

“That’s not true,” I replied without thinking. “You think privilege is the same thing as support. But I had every resource in the world and still screwed up every relationship that ever meant something to me.”

“And I’m supposed to feel bad for you?”

“No,” I said. And I meant it. “You’re not. I didn’t come on this boat to make you feel bad or to beg for forgiveness. I wanted to come out here because this is where I remembered you laughing the hardest. Where you weren’t worried about your family or your future. Just the wind and you beating the hell out of me in a sailboat race.”

A reluctant smile touched her lips. I was getting somewhere.

“You were so pissed,” she murmured.

“You took the trophy and made me carry your shoes back to the car.”

“That was the consolation prize,” she said.

“And I’d do it again.”

14

Roxie

“So, what’s your over-under on James and Hallie getting married?” Sebastian asked me the next evening.

We were sitting in the backseat of the car on the way to a Memorial Day weekend party on the beach. He was nursing a bottle of sparkling water like it was champagne, elbow propped on the open window, the salt air ruffling the collar of his shirt.

Of course, he looked effortlessly handsome. Of course.

I rolled my eyes. “Wow. Jumping right to marriage? You skipped a few steps there, didn’t you?”

He grinned without looking at me. “I’m just saying, the tension is thick enough to eat with a spoon. And we both have eyes. Come on.”

I scoffed, leaning my head against the window as the car curved along the narrow, sandy road toward the beach. The glass was warm against my temple, the golden-hour sun casting everything in an impossibly soft light that made even my most cynical thoughts feel a little romantic.

“Just because there’s tension doesn’t mean it ends in a wedding,” I muttered.

Sebastian glanced at me sideways. “No, but it might.”

I could feel him watching me, waiting for a reaction, but I kept my face neutral.

“I give them until Labor Day,” he added. “Either they’ll be madly in love by then or trying to destroy each other.”

“You seem extremely interested in their relationship. Which is strange coming from a man that I don’t think has ever had a long-term relationship and who probably doesn’t even believe in love,” I said, turning back to him with one raised brow.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “I never said I didn’t believe in love.”

Sebastian shifted in his seat, setting his water bottle down in the cup holder like he suddenly needed both hands free to argue. “I just don’t think most people know what to do with it when they find it.”