To the Stars
Page 8
I blinked quickly in surprise. “They know?” It wasn’t like I expected the screams of excitement that had poured through the phone from my family, but I would’ve thought the Dohertys would have said something when we’d shown up at their house earlier to get ready for the party.
“Of course they do; they’re excited.” Collin’s eyes studied my face, then fell quickly over my ears, throat, and finally my left hand. Every place on my body that had jewelry from him. His eyes stayed on my hand when he asked, “Do you like it?”
“My ring?” I sputtered. Is he serious? I thought to myself. I glanced down to the five-carat, emerald-cut, Classic Winston, and giggled. “Collin, I love my ring. As always, it is way too much, but I love it.”
“Then that’s all I need to know—and no, you’re not taking it off for the party.” Glancing at his phone, he said, “We do need to go, though, or my parents will wonder why we aren’t down there.”
“Okay.” I blew out a hard breath, and looked at myself in the mirror one last time before following Collin out of his bedroom at his parents’ house, and down the stairs.
I was introduced to dozens of couples—some of them I would never remember; others left me forcing myself not to gawk, as celebrities were introduced like it was an everyday occurrence to see them.
“Do you know who that was?” I hissed in Collin’s ear when we stepped away from the actor and his supermodel wife.
Collin’s brow furrowed, like he didn’t understand why I was about to hyperventilate. “Yes? Ah! There are my parents.”
Nothing. No reaction. This is his life—my life now . . . and it is so amazing! How does he not find this amazing? I wondered, but put those thoughts to rest when I looked around his parents’ house. I knew his family had money, but it was obvious some of their money came from something long before his father’s job, because there was no way a prosecutor could have a house like this. Just like there was no way his son could buy me the things he did.
“Collin, Harlow, so glad you could join us.” Mrs. Doherty said, and kissed my cheek. “These are some of Flynn’s colleagues,” she whispered, then straightened with a perfect smile on her face. “Gentlemen, you remember our son. This is his fiancée, Harlow.”
A few nods and nice-to-meet-yous were thrown out, but other than that, it was if we hadn’t just come into the conversation. As if Mrs. Doherty hadn’t just announced so casually that we were engaged.
Just like that, I was brought into the family. I’d been worried it would be harder—like I would have to prove myself. Instead, it was anticlimactic—almost a letdown. The conversation that had been taking place continued, and Collin kept his arm around me as he threw himself into it. I tried to do the same.
Five minutes later I was still attempting to understand what was happening—or happened. All I understood so far was that the men were all talking about an old case.
“Still can’t believe the bastard got away with first-degree murder,” one of the men said, and the others all shook their heads and voiced their displeasure.
“Should’ve been capital murder,” Flynn Doherty added.
“What’s the difference?” I asked quietly, and regretted it when a few men laughed, and every pair of eyes in the small group focused on me.
Collin laughed softly and mumbled, “Excuse us for a few minutes. I haven’t had much alone time with my new fiancée.” His hand gripped mine as he practically tugged me across the floor to a corner that wasn’t as busy.
“I can’t walk that fast in these—”
He turned so his face was directly in front of mine, and though his mouth was curved up in a smile, there was something different about it. About him. “Are you fucking kidding me, Harlow?” he hissed.
My eyebrows rose in confusion. “Wait, wha—” My question was cut off when Collin released my hand, only for two of his fingers to dig into a spot on my wrist. The pain was instant and surprising. My mouth popped back open, whether to let out a cry of pain or demand why he was doing this, I didn’t know—but it didn’t matter, he spoke before I could.
“Do not show your pain, Harlow.”
“What?” I asked breathlessly, and gave him a panicked look. “Co—”
“Do not show your pain,” he repeated. His tone was soft, his face still carefully composed. If I weren’t the one on the receiving end of the pain, I would’ve been so sure we were flirting instead, from the look he was giving me. “You know how stupid you are, don’t you?”
Stupid? I thought lamely. The question would have frustrated me if I weren’t trying to keep a straight face while simultaneously wondering how two fingers could cause so much pain. “Wh—”
“You will never embarrass me in front of anyone like that again, and especially not my father or his colleagues. Do you understand?” Collin leaned close and brushed his lips across my neck to whisper, “Do not say another word for the rest of the night.” The words were emphasized by a relief so great it almost felt like the pain had worsened for a split second when he released my wrist. It was clear his words weren’t just a demand—they were a warning.
I never once would have considered myself stupid before . . . but now I wasn’t sure if I was for obeying his demand the way I did for the rest of the night.
I smiled pleasantly—well, I hoped it looked pleasant—stayed by Collin’s side as we flitted from group to group, and never stopped studying him as he charmed everyone he spoke to.
I wanted to know what had happened. I wanted to know who the man was who had talked down to me and hurt me, because it wasn’t the man I’d fallen in love with. And I wanted to know why each touch and caress throughout the rest of the night felt like something so similar—but somehow foreign now.
“Come here, Harlow,” Collin murmured softly hours later when we finally made it back upstairs to his bedroom.
I stood a dozen feet away from him, staring at the floor as tears pooled in my eyes.
“You looked so incredible tonight,” he said when he was behind me. His fingers trailed down my bare arms, and he wrapped one arm around my stomach to pull my body close to his.
“I don’t understand,” I choked out, and immediately wondered if I was allowed to speak now.
“Of course they do; they’re excited.” Collin’s eyes studied my face, then fell quickly over my ears, throat, and finally my left hand. Every place on my body that had jewelry from him. His eyes stayed on my hand when he asked, “Do you like it?”
“My ring?” I sputtered. Is he serious? I thought to myself. I glanced down to the five-carat, emerald-cut, Classic Winston, and giggled. “Collin, I love my ring. As always, it is way too much, but I love it.”
“Then that’s all I need to know—and no, you’re not taking it off for the party.” Glancing at his phone, he said, “We do need to go, though, or my parents will wonder why we aren’t down there.”
“Okay.” I blew out a hard breath, and looked at myself in the mirror one last time before following Collin out of his bedroom at his parents’ house, and down the stairs.
I was introduced to dozens of couples—some of them I would never remember; others left me forcing myself not to gawk, as celebrities were introduced like it was an everyday occurrence to see them.
“Do you know who that was?” I hissed in Collin’s ear when we stepped away from the actor and his supermodel wife.
Collin’s brow furrowed, like he didn’t understand why I was about to hyperventilate. “Yes? Ah! There are my parents.”
Nothing. No reaction. This is his life—my life now . . . and it is so amazing! How does he not find this amazing? I wondered, but put those thoughts to rest when I looked around his parents’ house. I knew his family had money, but it was obvious some of their money came from something long before his father’s job, because there was no way a prosecutor could have a house like this. Just like there was no way his son could buy me the things he did.
“Collin, Harlow, so glad you could join us.” Mrs. Doherty said, and kissed my cheek. “These are some of Flynn’s colleagues,” she whispered, then straightened with a perfect smile on her face. “Gentlemen, you remember our son. This is his fiancée, Harlow.”
A few nods and nice-to-meet-yous were thrown out, but other than that, it was if we hadn’t just come into the conversation. As if Mrs. Doherty hadn’t just announced so casually that we were engaged.
Just like that, I was brought into the family. I’d been worried it would be harder—like I would have to prove myself. Instead, it was anticlimactic—almost a letdown. The conversation that had been taking place continued, and Collin kept his arm around me as he threw himself into it. I tried to do the same.
Five minutes later I was still attempting to understand what was happening—or happened. All I understood so far was that the men were all talking about an old case.
“Still can’t believe the bastard got away with first-degree murder,” one of the men said, and the others all shook their heads and voiced their displeasure.
“Should’ve been capital murder,” Flynn Doherty added.
“What’s the difference?” I asked quietly, and regretted it when a few men laughed, and every pair of eyes in the small group focused on me.
Collin laughed softly and mumbled, “Excuse us for a few minutes. I haven’t had much alone time with my new fiancée.” His hand gripped mine as he practically tugged me across the floor to a corner that wasn’t as busy.
“I can’t walk that fast in these—”
He turned so his face was directly in front of mine, and though his mouth was curved up in a smile, there was something different about it. About him. “Are you fucking kidding me, Harlow?” he hissed.
My eyebrows rose in confusion. “Wait, wha—” My question was cut off when Collin released my hand, only for two of his fingers to dig into a spot on my wrist. The pain was instant and surprising. My mouth popped back open, whether to let out a cry of pain or demand why he was doing this, I didn’t know—but it didn’t matter, he spoke before I could.
“Do not show your pain, Harlow.”
“What?” I asked breathlessly, and gave him a panicked look. “Co—”
“Do not show your pain,” he repeated. His tone was soft, his face still carefully composed. If I weren’t the one on the receiving end of the pain, I would’ve been so sure we were flirting instead, from the look he was giving me. “You know how stupid you are, don’t you?”
Stupid? I thought lamely. The question would have frustrated me if I weren’t trying to keep a straight face while simultaneously wondering how two fingers could cause so much pain. “Wh—”
“You will never embarrass me in front of anyone like that again, and especially not my father or his colleagues. Do you understand?” Collin leaned close and brushed his lips across my neck to whisper, “Do not say another word for the rest of the night.” The words were emphasized by a relief so great it almost felt like the pain had worsened for a split second when he released my wrist. It was clear his words weren’t just a demand—they were a warning.
I never once would have considered myself stupid before . . . but now I wasn’t sure if I was for obeying his demand the way I did for the rest of the night.
I smiled pleasantly—well, I hoped it looked pleasant—stayed by Collin’s side as we flitted from group to group, and never stopped studying him as he charmed everyone he spoke to.
I wanted to know what had happened. I wanted to know who the man was who had talked down to me and hurt me, because it wasn’t the man I’d fallen in love with. And I wanted to know why each touch and caress throughout the rest of the night felt like something so similar—but somehow foreign now.
“Come here, Harlow,” Collin murmured softly hours later when we finally made it back upstairs to his bedroom.
I stood a dozen feet away from him, staring at the floor as tears pooled in my eyes.
“You looked so incredible tonight,” he said when he was behind me. His fingers trailed down my bare arms, and he wrapped one arm around my stomach to pull my body close to his.
“I don’t understand,” I choked out, and immediately wondered if I was allowed to speak now.
