Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(118)

We can’t.

This is what they want, and we’ve been selfish long enough. I shake my head, grab the box and pluck out the ring that glitters as I slide it between my fingers. It’s larger and more extravagant than anything I’d ever want. I take a small breath and slide it onto my finger.

It fits perfectly.

I can’t stop staring at the way it sparkles and dwarfs my small hand. It’s gaudy and feels cold and wrong.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Lo. He’s fixated on the piece of jewelry as much as me, and I already know what he’s thinking. This isn’t what he imagined for us either, a proposal by his father in his office.

Maybe…maybe we’re just not meant to have a happy ending.

Maybe we don’t deserve it.





{ 36 }

LOREN HALE



When I was in rehab, I had plenty of free time to let my mind wander. Stupidly, I started thinking about how I would propose to Lily. Not any time soon, but when we were both healthy and happy. I even envisioned the ring I would buy her—a small pink sapphire. Simple, non-traditional. I think she would have liked it.

Now I’ll never know.

I glare at my father, hating that he has hijacked my proposal. It’s not entirely his fault, but if we’re being coerced into marriage, I’d rather have something on my terms. He could have given me a day’s notice. Anything.

Instead, I’m going to shelve this memory with all of my other black, inky tarred ones, ruined by something larger and nastier than me. Lily quietly appraises the ring with sad eyes. I wish I could fix this, but rejecting her parent’s pleas will hurt her more. The shame she caused is tearing her from the inside out, and doing nothing to repair the damage would rip her soul.

“The wedding,” I say, breaking the tense silence. “You said it’s in a year.”

My father nods and sips his scotch.

I itch to taste it, but I focus more on Lil, and any ache for alcohol subsides. For once, I truly feel strong enough to help her. “She has to complete all the tasks before her trust fund is returned. Does that mean she’ll have it again when she agrees to the wedding?”

“She gets it when you’re married.”

My stomach caves. A year? She’ll be broke for a whole f*cking year even if she does everything they say. Lily can’t hold down a job while she’s going through recovery. I remember how I found her hiding underneath her desk in Rose’s office, afraid of the male models. She’s not ready to handle the stress of a workplace environment with her addiction at bay. That anxiety is what causes her to go crazy.

“We’ll get married sooner,” I offer. Why prolong the wait? She’ll have money. The cameras will stop hounding us. She won’t be gossiped about in blogs anymore. All will be right again.

“Really?” Lily asks, her eyes big and glassy.

I wipe a fallen tear with my thumb. “Two weeks or one year, it doesn’t make a difference to me, Lil. I’d marry you tomorrow if it’d make you happy.”

She nods once and lets me hold her close.

“It actually does make a difference,” my father cuts in, chilling my bones. “It can’t look like a shotgun wedding designed to coax the media. It has to look real. One year. No sooner and no later.”

He strangled my only alternative.

My father closes a file and opens another. “Now for you, Loren,” he says, “the media has modeled you as the pathetic boyfriend, cheated on and discarded. You will publicly release a statement about how you and Lily have had an open relationship, something new age. You have been sleeping around with other women, and you knew she was sleeping with other men. But since your romantic engagement, you both have decided to commit to each other fully.”

Lily holds in a breath, probably believing I’ll refuse this stipulation. She wants this to be easy, for us to agree and move on. I’m accustomed to lies. If this one helps, I’ll gladly carry it. I nod in acceptance and my father closes the file.

“That’s it?” I ask.

“You’re not the sex addict,” he reminds me with a dry smile and the raise of his glass. He takes a long swig, and my mind lapses back to the money issue.

I have to ask him.

For Lily.

For me.

So we have one less problem to solve. So we can stop taking handouts from our siblings.

“About my trust fund…”

Lily bristles beside me. “Lo, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Whatever the repercussions, whatever I have to do to please my father, I’ll work out. A part of me screams failure. I’m giving up by crawling back to this man. But the other part says this is the right way. And I’m listening to that side of my brain. Whether it’s the dumb f*cking side—that’s to be seen.

“What about it?” He swirls the scotch in his glass, creating a small whirlpool.

He’ll make me ask. Beg. Plead and grovel. I’m not about to drop to my knees, but I’m close. I’m almost there. “You told me I could have it back,” I remind him, but I’m not an idiot. I know there are strings attached. “What do you want me to do?” Not college. Not college. Not college. I cannot go back to school, surrounded by booze, surrounded by fully functioning twenty-somethings. It drives me to a bottle more than Lily knows. It’s a reason why I opted not to return.