What did it matter when no one in the world loved you? She slept on her sofa and cried herself to sleep each night, feeling unloved, alone, and miserable. Asher had lied to her and was using her to get to the baby. He didn’t love her. He didn’t want her. All those sweet things he’d whispered? All the times he’d touched her? Lies. All of them.
The day after the wedding, she ran out of food. She splashed cold water on her face, ran a comb through her snarled hair, and changed out of her ratty “depression” pajamas and into her favorite jeans and T-shirt . . . and then grew even more depressed when they were too tight. Her body was changing, and the reminder of it was a good thing, she supposed.
It was time to get her head out of the sand and time to move on. The first order of business? She looked around her small apartment, now messy with empty ice cream containers, discarded chip bags, and a nest of blankets on her couch. She needed a new place. Someplace with enough room for a baby. Maybe she’d call Hunter and have him set up arrangements with one of his real estate agents to help her search. Maybe near the park. She liked the park.
Greer picked up her phone. The screen rolled with dozens of text messages. She deliberately ignored them, swiping right without reading a single one. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t care.
She started to dial Gretchen’s number . . . and then hung up. Maybe Chelsea, or Taylor, her other friends in the city . . . but she hung up on those before the call could go through. If she talked to them, they’d want to know what was going on with the wedding. By now they would have heard that either the wedding had gone off or it hadn’t, and Greer didn’t want to explain why she didn’t know anything about it and why she’d left.
Maybe she’d go to the park and walk instead. Clear her head. She grabbed her keys and her purse and headed out the door.
In the lobby of the building, she smiled at the front doorman, Clark. He nodded over at one of the couches in the waiting area, and she looked over.
A blonde was there, her legs curled under her body, a bright blue workout bag clutched in her lap. Tears streaked the makeup on her face and she sniffed loudly.
Oh no. Greer stared. That blue bag . . . Blue was Kiki. But Kiki was the sensible one, wasn’t she? “Kiki?”
The blonde’s head whipped around and she lit up at the sight of Greer. “You’re here!” Then she burst into new tears, grabbing tissue out of the box on the table. “Hi,” she said, and then began to bawl even louder.
Oh, crap. Greer delicately sat down on the lobby sofa next to Kiki. “What are you doing here? You’re not in Vegas?”
Kiki shook her head, her shoulders moving with suppressed sobs.
Poor Kiki. If she was here then . . . “Which sister was it? Tiffi or Bunni?” She reached out and touched Kiki’s knee sympathetically. All of the triplets were sweet, if flighty, but she’d liked Kiki the best.
“I don’t know,” Kiki wailed. “I left, too! And I d-don’t have anywhere t-to g-goooo.” Her bawling reached new heights, and she mashed the tissue against her eyes. “So I c-came here b-but they wouldn’t let me s-see you and I’ve been here for hours and hours—”
Greer bit her lip and cast a sympathetic look at the front desk. He gave her an aggrieved nod as if to say, yup, hours and hours. “You want to come upstairs and have some tea, Kiki? We can talk there.”
The crying woman nodded, and got to her feet, clutching her bag to her chest. Greer led her to the elevator and then back up to the apartment she’d so recently escaped from.
“I’m sorry it’s a bit of a mess,” Greer said. “I’ve been having a hard time, too.”
Kiki nodded, wiping her nose with a ball of Kleenex. “I’m glad you did. When you left, I realized that I could, too.” She gave Greer a miserable look. “I felt . . . trapped. I didn’t know how to get out, so I just ran. I was worried he was going to pick me, you know? And then I was worried he wouldn’t.” She swiped at new tears.
Greer picked up her blankets from the couch and moved them aside, then handed Kiki her box of Kleenex. She’d needed her fair share the last few days, herself. Curling up next to her on the sofa, Greer gave Kiki a sympathetic look. “Did you want to marry Stijn?”
Kiki exhaled slowly, and then shook her head. “I think . . . he was fun to date at first, you know? All that money and power. But he’s kind of nasty when he’s mad at someone, and he would get mad all the time for no reason. I just couldn’t be married to that. I don’t want to be a trophy wife, you know? The other day in bed, I asked him what his plans were for his wife, whichever one of us he picked. And he said he didn’t see why things had to change at all.” Her face crumpled and she started wiping at her cheeks again. “That’s when I knew he wasn’t taking things seriously. That it wasn’t going to end up being a real relationship. He doesn’t want a wife or a partner. He wants someone he can occasionally fuck, hand fifty dollars, and tell her to go buy herself something pretty.” She shook her head. “I don’t want that.”
“What about your sisters?”
A small, watery laugh escaped Kiki. “On that, we disagree. My sisters would be perfectly fine with just a fat wallet and a husband that doesn’t care what they do. I want the fairy tale, you know?”
Oh, did Greer ever know. She’d wanted it, too.
“I want what you and Asher have,” Kiki continued. “You guys just look so in love.”
“It’s a lie,” Greer said flatly. “He’s just a really good pretender. He told me what I wanted to hear and I believed it.”