Harper smoothed a hand over her hip. "How do I look?"

I took in her dress-a mix of black lace and cobalt beading. The dress rested nearly off her shoulders, with the neckline taking a deep V to a few inches above her belly b.u.t.ton. It showed off an almost obscene amount of breast, which was offset by the floor-length skirt and long sleeves.

"I'd do you." I took a step back in my indecently high black stilettos, grasping the black jersey knit skirt in my hand and drawing it to the side. "How about me?"

Compared to Harper's dress, I was quite covered up. Embroidered pale pink flowers swirled up my arms and chest, crawling over the long-sleeved sheer overlay that covered the matching bodice. The full skirt was gathered high on my waist, the only bit of bare skin peeking out from the thigh-high front slit. I had to be careful with that or I'd be flashing everyone.

"Let's trade. You can borrow my b.o.o.bs if you let me take a spin on those legs." She whistled under her breath.

I nudged her with my hip. "Next time, definitely."

She laughed, at the same time reaching for the door handle. The reception was just starting, and no one paid any mind to us as we slipped through the door. Leaning toward me, she pressed her lips so close to my ear she was practically kissing it. "We'll hang out by the bar since we don't have a table. Get a feel for the place and then do a little dancing. Okay?"

I bent so that I could whisper-yell back in her ear. "What do we do if someone catches us?"

She barked out a laugh that was immediately sucked up in the noise of the room. "We'll just tell them who you are. You're practically a celebrity in your own right."

I glared at her, which only earned me another laugh.

The trip to the bar was, thankfully, uneventful. Anyone who actually met our eyes gave us a small smile and kept right on their way. At an event this big, it was unlikely everyone would know everyone else, so we seemed to be flying under the radar.

Drink in hand, I leaned back against the bar top, letting my eyes feast on the gorgeousness of the venue. Towering ceilings, gigantic flower centerpieces, sweeping lights that flickered between aqua and lavender. All that seemed to pale in comparison next to the enormous blue whale that was suspended from the ceiling. A square, metal staircase was tucked in one corner, leading to a second floor that circled the entire room, exhibits spanning the entire distance.

We'd yet to see the bride, but given the number of people, I wasn't surprised. Harper kept up a steady stream of chatter in my ear, pointing out people she thought I might know, and when I didn't, giving me the gossip on them. She leveled a finger across the room, "The Averys, you know them, right? More money than G.o.d, owner of that big company?"

That name I actually did know. Last I heard, the senator had targeted them for a sizeable donation to his campaign. If I remembered correctly, there were two daughters, no sons, which probably meant intolerable girl talk rather than equally intolerable flirting in my future.

"Jack Avery," I said. "Staunch Republican, net worth well over a billion, easy. He takes his scotch neat. We've got a bottle of Macallan set aside specifically for him."

Harper snorted and took a swallow of her drink. "Elizabeth York you don't know, but this guy?" Her eyes left mine and went back to scanning the room. "s.h.i.t. There's Juliet St. Clair. She's even more famous than Elizabeth York; you have to know her, right?"

I just shook my head, which made her groan.

Harper's hand clamped like a vice around my arm. I thought for sure she was going to rip the delicate fabric of my sleeve. "Oh my G.o.d!" She took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Oh my G.o.d," she said again, more quietly this time. "Please tell me you've heard of the Downfall."

I wracked my brain. Hadn't Renee said something about them once? I squinted one eye closed as I tried to remember. I wanted to say she had a thing for the drummer? "They're a band?"

"They're a band." Harper scoffed. Her gaze swept around us to make sure no one was paying overly close attention to us. She turned so she was facing me and then hiked a thumb over her shoulder. "Straight back, behind me. Right by the edge of the dance floor, do you see them? I only saw three of them. I don't know where number four is."

I rocked up onto my tiptoes. "I can't see."

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, B. One look and you'll have weeks' worth of fantasies to get off on, I swear. C'mon." She held out a hand for me, and I took it. We weaved through the clumps of people until we were skirting the dance floor. Bodies swayed to some up-tempo number, making our view to the other side sporadic at best.

"There!" Harper widened her eyes suggestively.

I followed her gaze, and when my eyes locked onto who she was pointing out . . . I died. At least the new Bianca, the one who'd been slowly crawling out of her sh.e.l.l and standing on her own two feet, did. The same Bianca who, only hours ago, had been finalizing her decision to stay in New York. Permanently.

Right there, in that moment, as time slowed and expanded so I could feel every single one of the million st.i.tches of delicately constructed fabric that covered my skin, my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. Because not thirty feet away stood Ian-with Ben on one side, and Gavin on the other.

At some point, they'd all been wearing tuxedoes, but now, sleeves were rolled back, ties loosened, and jackets gone. Even from a distance I could pick out Ian's tattoos as they swept up his right arm. My brain fought against the image. This was wrong. It had to be. Ian told me he was at his mom's, hours away.

My eyes flicked across the dance floor again, trying to deny it, but he sure as h.e.l.l wasn't at his mom's. And it wasn't just that Ian lied to me about who he was; that he'd downplayed his job and called himself a "musician." At least that was only a lie by omission, maybe even something I could understand if we'd never strayed past the casual relationship we'd agreed on.

None of that was the worst part.

No, what really got me, what gutted my stomach like someone was carving it up with a steak knife, was the woman at his side-brunette, gorgeous, and wearing the most stunning gown I'd ever seen. It shimmered around her in a silver cloud, like day-old snowflakes tainted by car exhaust. His arm wrapped around her middle, hand resting on the swell of her hip. My eyes locked onto his hand, honed in on it, and for endlessly long seconds, it was the only thing I could see. She tilted her lips up to his ear, and then he laughed, smiling that smile down at her.

I had to force my stomach back down my throat, getting it back where it belonged. Blood roared in my ears, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I had to urge my heart to keep beating, even though every time it did, the broken shards dug a little deeper.

Somewhere to my left, Harper kept babbling, but I couldn't latch onto a single word.

Still staring ahead, I said, "Ian." It was a whisper, a plea, a resignation.

"Yeah." Harper glanced up at me, her eyebrows drawing together so that her skin puckered into a line in the middle of her forehead. "I thought you didn't know anything about the band?"

I wet my lips. "My Ian."

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she tried to work it out. When they bugged out to nearly three times their size, I knew she'd puzzled it out. "That's Ian? The Ian you've been dating is Ian f.u.c.king Mathis of the Downfall?"

I nodded, pinching my lips together as my eyes started to burn. No. No. I couldn't do this here. I could handle this. I was stronger than that. Pinching my fingers on the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes for three heartbeats, got myself under control, and blew out a breath.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "B? Bianca? Are you gonna pa.s.s out on me? You're looking mighty pale."

"I'm fine," I said, my voice lacking any conviction. My face felt stiff, but I forced it into a smile. I could smile through anything. "I need to get out of here."

"Yeah, no s.h.i.t. You're not the only one."

The anger pulsating off her words crashed over me. "What's the matter?"

"The matter?" Her eyes shot daggers at me. "This guy's been jerking around my best friend, lying to her, and f.u.c.king around. Do you know how close I am to flying across this dance floor and introducing my knee to his n.u.t.s.a.c.k?"

Any other time I would have laughed at her comment, but I just didn't have it in me. Everything was aching, hurting so bad that I felt it from the tips of my eyelashes straight down to my marrow. I risked one more glance, just one, knowing it would be the last.

The invisible force that pulled at us from the beginning, the intangible string that tied us together, tugged at that moment. Despite the crowd that separated us, the undulating bodies that every so often blocked the view, Ian's eyes snapped up and locked onto mine. Shock colored his features, the blood draining out of his face so that it was as white as his dress shirt. His mouth worked like he was trying to find the words, but even if he was speaking, I'd never hear him all the way over here.

I never wanted to speak to him again.

"Now, Harper. We need to leave now."

Her eyes flared at the recognition he was watching us, and with a hand on my arm, she pulled me behind her. When the door slammed shut at my back, I paused for a second to rip off my shoes. Gathering my skirt in one hand, my shoes in the other, we sprinted through the empty, eerie hallways.

The freezing winter air bit into my skin the moment I stepped outside, the stone steps digging into my bare feet. By the time we made it to the curb I was panting, my hair hanging in straggles around my face. My feet burned from the thousands of sc.r.a.pes I'd acc.u.mulated, and my elbow was already bruising from where I'd taken a corner too tightly and whacked it on the wall.

None of it even compared to the agony my heart was in.

I didn't know if Ian was coming after me. Couldn't even imagine why he'd want to, after everything he'd done. Everything with him had just been one lie piled on top of another until there was a veritable tower of them bearing down on me.

I wasted no time flagging down a cab. As it pulled to the curb, the brakes squealing and the dark puff of exhaust swirling around me, I threw myself in the backseat. Harper piled in right behind me, the edge of her dress getting caught in the door in her haste to slam it behind her.

As soon as the door closed and the cab lurched forward, I dropped my head into my hands and rocked myself back and forth. The heels of my hands dug into my eyes until I saw spots behind my closed eyelids.

When the cab finally stopped, I was out the door in a flash, not even waiting to see if Harper paid the fare or if she needed any extra cash. I was so out of it, so not present in my own body, that I didn't see the man waiting at the foot of my stairs until he grabbed me by the shoulder.

I screamed.

Harper fell, her feet getting tangled in her dress as she frantically tried to make her way to me.

The man slapped a hand over my mouth, pulling me against him. "Miss Easton, please calm down. It's me."

I fought through the panic, trying to make my eyes focus. Recognition seeped in slowly. "Eli?"

Harper came flying past me, and I was just barely able to catch her, holding her back before she threw herself at the head of the senator's security detail. She swiped her hair back, flicking a thumb over an oozing cut on her cheek and coming away with a streak of blood.

"Ma'am."

"You know this guy?" Harper asked.

I nodded, trying to force my heart rate back to a normal rhythm since it was still racing like it was trying to medal at the Olympics. "What're you doing here?" I asked him.

His lips thinned, the heavy black mustache above them pulling down with the motion. "Your father sent me here to retrieve you, ma'am."

"Retrieve her?" Harper screeched. "What is she, a f.u.c.king Labrador?"

I laid a hand on her arm in what I hoped was a calming gesture. Inside, I was sizzling, my anger boiling up. It took a strong reminder from some part of my brain, one that frankly I was surprised was still functioning, that I shouldn't shoot the messenger. "Why, exactly, are you here?"

He sighed, fishing a phone from his pocket. His fingers danced over the screen before he handed it to me. "I a.s.sume you've seen this?"

My eyes flicked down to where a video was playing. It took a second for my overwhelmed brain to realize what it was-a recording of Ian and me at the Blackbird. The phone shook in my hands. "Where did you get this?"

His bushy eyebrows lifted nearly to his hairline. "Try just about anywhere and everywhere on the internet."

"Oh G.o.d." I pressed my knuckles to my mouth. It took me a moment to sc.r.a.pe my stomach back up off the sidewalk. "How bad is it?"

"Bad. Your parents were very displeased to see you've been keeping this type of company."

"Bianca, who gives a s.h.i.t? Who cares about a stupid karaoke video? It's not like it's a s.e.x tape." Harper gripped my fingers in her hands.

"I care," I whispered, my words nearly swept away in the night air. The burn started again at the back of my eyes, a warning of the tears I was barely keeping at bay.

"I need to pack my things," I said to Eli. "When do we need to leave?"

"Your landlord let me in your apartment after I apprised him of the situation. I took the liberty of packing your bags; they're already in the car."

I wanted to be mad that he invaded my privacy. That even though I was an adult, he thought my father still held the final say over my life. I wanted to, I reached for the fury, the rage, but the only thing I found was . . . relief.

I didn't want to stay a single minute more.

Dropping Harper's hands, I threw my arms around her neck, hugging her so tight I thought I might strangle her.

"Don't do this," she said. "You're just upset. Please don't leave like this."

"I have to go." I looked away from her, my eyes following the curve of the sidewalk until it disappeared around the corner. "It was always going to end. It's just happening a little sooner than I expected."

"Bulls.h.i.t, Bianca. Bull. s.h.i.t." She shoved me, and only Eli's hand on my elbow kept me upright. Spinning around, she slammed her hand down on the trunk of Eli's car, the bang echoing down the street.

"I'm sorry," she said, backing away. "You don't deserve that. I just . . ." She blew out a breath and tilted her head back so she could study the sky. "Call me when you get home? Please?"

I nodded, understanding it wasn't really me she was mad at. Headlights swept up the street, cutting through the night and sending a bolt of apprehension racing through me. Without wasting any more time, I climbed into the car, clutching my arms around my middle like I could hold myself together by sheer force of will.

Tucking my feet up underneath me, the fabric of the dress bunching, I rested my forehead against the cool gla.s.s. I was going home.

Home. I tested the word in my mouth.

I wondered where that really was.

Chapter 34: Ian.

2 Years Earlier It'd been the longest two weeks of my life. Every minute dragged, every hour spun out until one rolled into the next, into the next. The days bled together until I wasn't sure when one ended and the other began. Realistically, I knew each day was made of twenty-four singular hours, but for the first time, I became intimately acquainted with all of them.

Somewhere behind the tubes and wires, the gauze and tape, was my Maggie. I tried not to focus on it all, tried to see past it, but there was more of it than there was of her. A long, thick cast climbed up her leg, up and over her knee. Thick strips of white gauze circled her head, almost the same shade as her pale skin. My fingers itched to wrap themselves in one of her curls, but they were hidden underneath the bandages. Even holding her hand seemed like a risk. A thin IV protruded from the top of her hand, held in place by a clear piece of adhesive. The skin around it had bruised, but it was starting to fade, hovering somewhere between a deep shade of purple and a sickly yellow.

It didn't leave me with many options.

More often than not, I curled my fingers around her wrist, careful not to disturb her IV. Underneath the pad of my pointer finger, I could feel her heartbeat, slow and steady. Any time I felt myself slipping, I concentrated on that-on the undeniable proof that Maggie was still alive.

That's what Dr. Abel had said: "Your wife is most definitely alive." I'd learned that alive was a relative term. Her heart still beat, her chest still rose and fell with the accompaniment of the ventilator, but not once in the past 336 hours had she opened her eyes.

The door slid open. "You look like c.r.a.p."

My eyes drifted up over the thick, blue blanket. "Way to kick a man when he's down, Ben."

"It's pretty obvious you're not shaving." He pa.s.sed me a cup of coffee, keeping the other one for himself. Dragging the other chair up next to mine, he plopped down into it. "But are you at least eating?"

Food was the last thing on my mind. I scratched a hand over my jaw, my fingertips running over short hairs that made up an actual beard. Mirrors and shaving weren't really high on my list of priorities either. "I eat."

He grunted, drumming a finger against the white Styrofoam of his cup. "Any news?"

"Nothing." I blew out a breath. "Another round of tests this morning, but I haven't heard back on them yet."

If Rachel had been here, she would have said something like, "I'm sure everything's going to be fine, Ian. You'll see." Her smile would have been real and genuine, the sincerity in her voice relaxing the knotted muscles in my shoulders. But Ben wasn't Rachel, so instead I watched the worry seep into his eyes, his lips pinching into a tight line.