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Narrowing her eyes at her mother, she picked up a cookie from the plate she’d just brought out. But all the cookies and chocolate in the world weren’t making her feel better.
“What happened?” Jimmy asked. “Some boy leave you on Christmas? I’ll have a talk with him if you like.” His idea of “a talk” seemed like it might involve rope and a shotgun.
Mouth too full of cookie to answer, she watched her mom take over, dreading the turn it was taking. “She just found out her boyfriend’s rich.”
“Oh.” He nodded for a moment, then the words seemed to sink in. “Wait. What?”
She took a swig of the champagne she’d poured herself earlier to clear her mouth. “It’s not that he’s rich. Don’t make me sound so shallow.” She wasn’t shallow. It wasn’t about t
hat, really. “It’s that he lied. For a long time! How can I trust him? He says he’s different, but he’s acting just like every other rich person we’ve ever known.”
She expected her mom to agree, but Lysette had been dodging giving an opinion on this since she’d cried to her last night after the party. “Now, don’t drag me into this. I’ve met some very nice rich people.”
Everly rolled her eyes, but at the same time, seeds of doubt had been planted in her mind and started to grow. Her whole life, she’d been angry at their family, working against the one percent, convinced they were the enemy—most of them, not all. But not only had she fallen in love with one, but through him, she’d met others who’d just . . . gotten lucky. Was it fair to blame them?
“You can’t be like this forever, hon. You can’t wear this chip on your shoulder your whole life or you’ll miss out on good things that could come your way.” She gave her a candid look. “Like this boy, Ambrosia.”
“Ambrose.”
“Whatever. It’s a strange name.”
She snorted. “Says the woman who named her daughter Everly.”
“See? Another reason you two belong together!”
“Mom,” she warned. If she hadn’t numbed herself with alcohol earlier, she’d still be a crying mess right now. But she’d done enough of that last night. And then again in the morning. She’d cried so hard she’d run out of tears, and even hours later her face felt puffy and her chest ached.
For all of his lying, Ambrose would be a hard one to get over. Looking at Liam’s little golden head of hair and big blue eyes kept making her wonder what her children with Ambrose would have been like. She’d been so close to that. A future. A family. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something. And it would have been hers.
Now she had no boyfriend, no play partner, no Dom, no Master. Though she’d only ever worn a generic play collar, somehow her neck felt empty and cold. She’d been owned and loved, she’d tasted that bond, and now her world had gone suddenly gray.
She couldn’t imagine there was anything more painful in the world than losing your Master.
Maybe it hadn’t been official, but it might as well have been. It meant something. He meant something.
That she’d felt it so strongly, been so in love, only made the betrayal hurt more. Last night, she’d driven home through blurry tears and had to pull over twice until she calmed down. He’d been calling and texting all night and day, and she’d finally turned her phone off, unable to handle seeing his name without bursting into fresh tears.
But enough was enough. He kept trying to explain himself, but he didn’t understand that was only making it worse. He was proving exactly what she’d said—he was just like every other rich, selfish asshole. Ambrose wanted what he wanted, and he’d do anything to get it.
And she’d taken him for a Dom. Instead, he was just a spoiled liar.
“So . . .” Jimmy’s voice pulled her attention. His brow creased as he tilted his head in confusion. “You broke up with him because he’s rich?”
“Because he lied about being rich.”
His expression remained bewildered.
“Being rich is enough though. Rich people are entitled, selfish, and inconsiderate,” she spouted off as if she’d said it a hundred times before. Maybe she had, but this time the sweeping generalization embarrassed her as it came from her mouth. Was Ambrose really all of those things? As a second thought, she looked at Jimmy and asked, “You’re not rich, are you?”
“No.” He laughed. “I’m a plumber.”
Jimmy the Plumber. A divorcé with a pickup truck, a trailer home, and a six-year-old kid he shared custody of. But somehow a perfect match for her mom. She always went for humble and ordinary. Everly had assumed she’d do the same, but somehow she’d ended up with the enemy. She snorted at herself. Sleeping with the enemy.
“Listen, honey.” Her mom’s voice softened. “I know our family and the girls at school were mean to you when you were a kid, but you gotta forgive them and get over that shit.” Her gaze shot to Liam, who was happily tasting each kind of cookie. “Uh, stuff.”
“I’m over it,” she replied, suddenly grumpy.
“Clearly not, if it made you break up with a perfectly good guy.”
