Porter

t had to b

hazy memory, back to

five ye

cruel Technicolor replay of a

hing neon sign in the landscape of my past. Nineteen

aitress at a high-end catering event he was attending, frantically trying to

nce novel, but it happened. His gaze, a startlingly intense blue, cut through the nois

he notorious playboy, the heartbreaker with a penchant for gir

nd moved towards me with a predator's grace. He stopped r

?" he asked, his voice a low, amused drawl a

history that felt like a whirlwind,

ingle-minded focus that was both t

f my classmates. He filled my tiny apartment with so many flowers that it looked like a jungle. He took m

loved old black-and-white films, that I secretly wished I'd learned to play the piano. The next day, a

ttling down. I saw a man who seeme

aw me as a commoner, a gold-digger, a temporary distraction. But Christopher stood firm. He thre

white roses, he looked into my eyes and ma

cheek. "They were right. Until I met you. You are not just another girl. You are th

m. God, how I

r birthday. He would fly across the world just to have dinner with me if I was feeling lonely. He had a ring custom-made, with the

was a fa

my father

ris Lindsay, the perfect match. He sponsored her, paying

Em," he'd explained, his arm wrapped around

o consumed with worry for my fat

check on Iris became more freque

a designer wardrobe because "she shouldn't feel out of place a

inners, to museums, to the opera. "I have to keep her s

because Iris had a headache. The flowers that used to fill our penthouse were now being delivered to her dorm room. The quie

guised under the cloak of concern for my f

n my stomach. The fairy tale

opher, don't you think this is... a little m

nt. "Emily, don't be ungrateful. She's saving your father's

o selfish? I was ashamed. I apologized an

t was my

lie. He hadn't just been comforting her. I had asked him then, my vo

erent, Emily. You were nineteen. Pure, untouched. But you'r

ered, the words like glass shards in

pped. "I have to take care of

lete. He had used my father's l

e white of a hospital ceiling. The funeral home had called an hour ago. My father' s arrangements were

re. Not once since I colla

cture of her hand, resting on the steering wheel of Christopher's Bentley. On her wrist was a new diamond bra

a surprise trip to get my mind off things.

nger moved on its own,

th a message. It w

I'm taking her to the Hamptons for a few days to relax before

t know. He had been so busy comforting his new toy that he hadn't even checked. He did

erly selfish, self-absorbed betrayal, had

her bump in the road. Another

as w

was t

swiped open my phone and dialed a n

Graves'

. "Tell her I want a divorce. I'll sign anything

ssistant sounded sho

my life," I said. "Tell her he can have hi

's lawyer had emailed me within the hour. The ef

business center, spitting out the document that would s

a pen. My ha

't just a

e beginning