“Because you love them? Because Hawaii is more fun with . . . ” Scarlet’s cheeks pinked delicately, and she averted her eyes.
“I don’t remember you and Trent ever goin’ to Hawaii,” teased Savannah.
“Honeymoon,” said Scarlet in a dramatic whisper.
“Aha. So you’ve decided. Well, I’ve heard it’s very romantic.”
Scarlet’s delicate blush spread to her neck as she turned redder.
Savannah laughed at her prim little sister. “Scarlet, you’d think you’d never kissed a boy, for heaven’s sake. What’s next?”
“‘Number ten, the first big blowup fight,’” Scarlet sniffed. “Well, I just hope I never have to experience that.” She rapped her fingers lightly on the arm of the swing, her pink lacquered nails catching the warm light of the low sun.
“Do you mean to tell me that you and Trent have never had a big fight?”
“Vanna, honey, why in the world would I want to have a spat with the man I love? The odd quarrel’s one thing, but more than anything, I want to make him feel loved and comfortable and happy. Besides, he’s so smart and so good to me, he’s almost always right.”
“And when he’s not?”
“You get more bees with honey.”
Savannah laughed lightly. “So you use your wiles to get your way?”
“It beats fighting.”
“I’m guessing you’ve never had makeup sex, though, Scarlet. You’re missing out.”
Scarlet shrugged, expertly avoiding the implied question. “Nothing’s worth bein’ at odds with Trent. Nothin’.”
“Fine. Have it your way. What’s next?”
“‘Number eleven, the first time you realize he’s your home.’” Scarlet sighed. “Doesn’t that sound lovely?”
For all of Savannah’s world-weary cynicism, she had to admit that it did sound lovely. As she’d fallen in love with Patrick, she started to realize how wonderful it would be to give her heart to someone, how amazing it would be to know he had her back and was on her side, how, yes, lovely it would be to know that her life was safe with his: entwined, inextricably bound together.
She forced herself to remember the cruel glee in his eyes when he confessed that, yes, he had fed her bucketfuls of misinformation in an effort to subvert the true story behind the embezzlement of his father’s financial firm. And Savannah—stupid Savannah, who thought she was falling in love with him—had been nothing more than a cheap mark, a cheap lay, and in the end, totally expendable.
“Sorry, kid,” he’d said, with what must have passed for regret in his world. “You were fun, though. And the story was a miracle. You made a great case for my father’s partners shouldering the blame.”
“When it was your father all along? He cheated all those people?”
“What matters is the court of public opinion. And you’ve done a great job for our . . . cause.”
“But he deceived all those people . . . ” Her voice trailed off as she realized the further ramifications of her story. “And the Sentinel printed it. And it was all garbage. It was libel. Oh my God . . . my career.”
“You’re tough. Hell, you made it to New York City from some backwater town in Virginia, kid. You’ll land on your feet.”
But she hadn’t landed on her feet. Once the hate mail started pouring in, she was fired. A retraction was printed, but Patrick’s father’s partners sued for libel, assessing over three million dollars’ worth of damage.
With nowhere else to go, Savannah broke her lease, packed up her belongings, and headed home in shame under the guise of taking the summer off from work to help with her sister’s wedding. Her parents and sister knew the truth, of course, but the rest of Danvers was a sleepy little town, and the reaction from most of the townsfolk had been: “How lovely that you’re back, dear. And just in time for Scarlet’s big do!”
“Katie Scarlet, I’m about to go diabetic from so much sweetness. Finish up and put me out of my misery. What’s number twelve?”
“‘Number twelve, the first time you realize that he loves you as much as you love him.’”
“What happens after twelve?” asked Savannah, half kidding.
“After twelve, you’re ready for forever,” said Scarlet, not kidding one bit.
Savannah smirked humorlessly as her little sister closed the mammoth magazine with a flourish.
“And now I am going to go get ready for tonight’s dinner-dance at the club. Sure you won’t come, Vanna? Trent could get you a date.”
“With one of his frat brothers? Five years younger than me? Or, worse, with his brother, Lance? No thanks, Scarlet. But you have fun.”