Chapter 142
“I do apologise again for the delay with the flowers,” Darcy continues. “But everything’s in place now. The camera crew arrived about an hour ago. They did a few test shots and everything’s working perfectly.”
“That’s a relief, Darcy. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” I rub at the knot in my shoulder, biting back a sigh. The suite is silent, empty. Zane’s probably still out drinking with his friends.
And for once, that’s not the part bothering me.
Stone’s abrupt disappearance felt like the first clean breath I’ve had in weeks. With any luck, his absence from the wedding will extend into the rest of our marriage.
Filming for episode two of the reality series wrapped yesterday, but I haven’t stopped since. I’ve been running myself ragged — coordinating the shoot, triple–checking every last wedding detail, juggling Lolo’s daily video calls like clockwork.
Episode three films in three days. The finale? Scheduled for next week during the wedding itself. The thought makes me laugh, dry and bitter.
Darcy’s voice pulls me back. “Which reminds me – I wanted to ask about the ring bearer. That should’ve been decided by now. I’m afraid we’re cutting it too close to find someone suitable.”
A fresh headache pulses behind my eyes. “It’s such a minor
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detail, I keep pushing it off. I’ll handle it. Thank you again, Darcy.” I hang up before she can say anything else and let myself collapse onto the bed.
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As if on cue, Zane walks into the suite. I lift my head. He’s more sober than I expected.
“Babe?” I say, casually. “I was just thinking about looking for you.”
—
He doesn’t spare me a glance. I don’t even flinch. I’ve grown used to his detachment since we boarded this cruise — his quiet absence, his shrinking patience. He grabs a bottle of water from the mini–fridge, takes a long pull, and finally turns to face me.
There’s that look again. The one that used to be warm, now dulled by irritation.
“What do you want?”
I sit up slowly. There’s no easy way to say it, so I just rip the bandage off. “We don’t have a ring bearer.”
He blinks. “A what?”
“A ring bearer,” I repeat, too tired to sugarcoat anything. “For the wedding. We don’t have one.”
He drags a hand through his hair and scowls. “How the fuck is that my problem?”
My jaw tightens. It’s your wedding, too, I almost snap. Not a party someone else planned where you just show up and drink. But instead, I bite down hard on the response and ask, “So you don’t care what I decide?”
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“Do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Great.” I lie back against the pillows, pulling the blanket over my shoulders. “I already got Lolo a dress just in case.”
He freezes.
“You will do no such thing,” he says, his voice suddenly ice.
I glance at him, slow and lazy. “Why not? I thought you didn’t care. Lorelei is our daughter – who better to carry the rings?”
“I said no.” His voice cracks sharp like a whip. “Damn it, Becca. I said NO.”
That’s it. My patience finally gives. It was never bottomless.
I sit up straighter, eyes locked on his, and let the heat rise. “How long are you planning to keep her a secret, Zane?”
“As long as I fucking want.”
“No,” I snap. “It doesn’t work like that. I’m not letting our daughter be your dirty little secret. Either you get your shit together and show up for her, or-”
“Or what?” he cuts in with a sneer. “You’ll leave me? Take Lorelei and run off? Go ahead. I don’t give a flying fuck. We both know who’d regret it in the end – and it won’t be me.”
The words hit like a slap.
My hands fist the sheets. I wonder how Lolo would feel hearing that. Hearing her father flat–out admit he doesn’t care. But leaving isn’t an option. Not yet. I need this wedding as much as she needs a father. I need the optics. The exposure. The power
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of his name next to mine.
—
Marrying Zane will give me everything I’ve been clawing toward, everything my hiatus took away from me money, status, security. All I have to do is smile through the ceremony, survive a year of marriage, and then? File the papers. Secure full custody. Drain every last cent in child support to build the life Lorelei and I actually deserve.
That’s the deal I made with myself. If I can’t make him love us, l‘ Il make him useful.
Let him rot where he stands. I’ll bleed him dry.
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