Page 96 of Gorgeous Misery

Merc nods his head towards Harrison. “Let’s talk in private.”

She doesn’t argue. No one argues. Sasha Cherlin turns her back to Nick and me, and she and Merc meet up with Harrison halfway down the driveway, then they walk back towards the plane.

“Follow me.” Nick still has a hold of my hand, so when he starts walking, I go with him. He says nothing, just leads me towards the field of sunflowers. It’s late in the day now. The sun is almost gone. But a little bit of orange glow lingers like a halo over the top of the tall flowers.

We enter the field and this is when I realize I have no shoes on. But it’s a good thing. The dirt is thick and soft. It’s special dirt. Cared-for dirt. Dirt filled with everything a little seed needs to survive and grow big. It’s late summer so the sunflowers are tall now, much taller than me. The gorgeous yellow heads kiss Nick’s shoulders as we push past row, after row. They leave behind little dots of orange and black. A clue, I think. But I’m not sure what mystery we’re solving. We turn into another row and suddenly the whole sky is lit up red before me. And it’s such a beautiful contrast over the golden sunflowers—so, so, so fuckin’ pretty—I might cry over it.

But then the words are there.

My words whispering in my ear.

My kisses with Nick.

Flawless, marvelous, divine, sensational.

Heavenly, powerful, glorious, delightful.

Nick stops on the edge of the sunflowers and I see that we have come to a clearing. Everything about the now feels like a fantasy. Like I’m in someone’s storybook and this is the perfect ending. Nick looks over his shoulder at me, smiling. He says, “I made this for us. Years ago, actually. I never let them plant anything here, but I make them cut the grass so it’s short and soft.”

Then he pulls me into the clearing with him and we take a moment to spin in place, staring up at the sky.

I’m lost, I think.

And it’s so weird. Because wasn’t I just found a few hours ago?

Gorgeous, the words say.

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, they insist.

But it’s not. Not really, is it?

Because I’m not the last Wild Child, am I?

I am not the last of anything.

I’m a whole new miserable beginning.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - MERC

Sasha is shaking when she reaches for the cup of tea that Harrison brewed while she was facing her worst nightmare. Shaking hard enough that some of the liquid spills over the side of the private-jet-approved bone china cup when she raises it to her mouth.

“Are you OK?” Harrison asks.

It should be me asking. I should not have brought her here. What the hell was I thinking?

“Fine.” Sasha sets the cup down on the little matching saucer and the two pieces of porcelain clatter together for a moment until they settle. Then Sasha smooths out an imaginary wrinkle in her tank top, takes a deep breath, and looks right at me. “What the fuck, Merc?”

“I should’ve told you—”

“I told him it was a bad idea—”

“I specifically said I do not want to know!”

We’re all talking at the same time so for a couple seconds the inside of the little jet feels like chaos. But once we get out all our initial complaints and confessions—for me, at least—we linger in another heavy silence.

Sasha turns her back to me and walks over to the closest window. Movement catches my attention and I watch as Nick Tate leads Wendy Gale into a field of tall sunflowers until they both disappear. Sasha turns back and crosses her arms. “I cannot believe you brought me here.”

“This whole thing has gotten complicated.” I’m on the verge of begging her to cut me a break.