It had been thirty minutes since the party's buzz dimmed and the music dulled into background thumps. Blair sat at the edge of the poolside bench, her arms wrapped loosely around her knees, the soft curls of her hair swaying with the wind. Poppy lay curled beside her, blinking sleepily.
Then came headlights.
Blair blinked as the familiar black Mercedes rolled up slowly along the paved driveway, the driver from earlier stepping out and giving her a nod. She looked up, confused.
"You're here for me?" she asked.
The driver smiled gently. "Miss Cassie said you wanted to go home."
Blair hesitated for a moment, looking back toward the house where Cassie had vanished hours ago. Not a glance back. Not a text. Not a single care.
"I do," she muttered.
She scooped up Poppy and slipped her phone into her small purse. As the car door closed behind her, she allowed herself one last glance at the golden-lit house before being driven into the night.
The stars blurred past the window as she leaned her head on the glass. When she finally slipped into the comfort of her room back home, she didn't bother changing. She just crawled into bed and let the heaviness pull her into sleep.
Cassie, on the other hand, didn't come home at all.
---
James's POV
Early the next morning – Andrew's place
The first thing James Covington noticed was the weight on his arm—and the pounding in his skull.
Sunlight spilled through the half-closed curtains, dancing lazily across the bed. James opened one eye, then the other, squinting like a man waking from war. His mouth tasted like something between stale vodka and regret. He looked down and saw a head of soft brown hair sprawled across his chest.
Cassie.
Right. Last night.
He carefully slid his arm out from under her and sat up, his blond hair falling messily into his eyes. He was shirtless, wearing only his dark jeans, the top button undone from when he had crashed onto the mattress.
He rubbed his temples and groaned. "God, never again," he muttered, his voice a gravelly rasp.
Standing, James walked over to the mirror and stared at himself. The man who stared back was tall and lean, with defined arms, sunkissed skin, and piercing blue eyes that managed to look both sharp and exhausted. His jawline was sculpted, chin lightly dusted with stubble. A natural mess. A beautiful wreck.
He pulled on a gray hoodie lazily draped over the chair and padded out of the room.
Outside, around the pool area, a few guys were already nursing coffees and half-sleeping on pool loungers. Caleb sat at the edge with Andrew, legs dangling into the water, both looking like they'd fought off ten hangovers and barely survived.
James yawned dramatically. "I feel like death."
Andrew lifted his head and smirked. "Well, you look like Vogue's version of it."
Caleb gave him a sideways glance. "So… how's my sister?"
James shot him a warning look. "Relax. I didn't eat tonight."
Andrew nearly choked on his drink. "Again? Bro, you've been starving yourself lately."
James laughed, grabbing a bottle of water from the outdoor fridge and twisting it open. "Maybe I'm going vegan."
Caleb raised an eyebrow. "You mean celibate."
"I mean… she's Cassie." James took a long sip. "She talks a lot."
Andrew snorted. "Talks a lot? She was practically reciting poetry on your lap."
Caleb groaned. "Can we not talk about my sister that way?"
James leaned back, hands behind his head. "I'm just saying… sometimes, the package looks great. But the warranty's missing."
"James!" Caleb barked out a laugh.
Andrew grinned. "Well, you better keep your pretty face polished. Tonight's your big night."
James groaned again. "Oh God, the Covy launch ball…"
"Don't tell me you forgot," Andrew said, leaning forward. "Your dad's expecting your speech."
"And your tailor's been trying to call you all morning," Caleb added. "Something about the custom navy suit not fitting your 'God complex.'"
James stood, stretching. "Alright, alright. I'll go home, get changed, make Dad proud, fake a smile, flirt with rich people…"
Andrew grinned. "And maybe actually hook up this time?"
James shot them a finger-gun and a wink. "Only if she doesn't talk too much."
He turned on his heel and made his way to the garage, climbing into his silver Porsche. As the engine purred to life, James's smile faded just slightly. The road ahead looked polished and gold—but somehow, it always felt a little…
_____
The morning sun slipped through the white curtains, painting soft gold across the walls of Blair's room. Her duvet was still wrapped snug around her as she stirred, eyes fluttering open just a little. Before she could fully wake up, the door creaked open, and the scent of soft vanilla and fresh flowers followed right after.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," came Lily's voice, tender and warm.
Blair smiled sleepily as her mother tiptoed into the room and climbed onto the bed beside her, wrapping her arms around her like they hadn't seen each other in years.
"You know, we used to cuddle like this all the time," Lily murmured, resting her cheek gently against Blair's shoulder.
Blair chuckled, eyes still half closed. "Mom, we literally moved here three days ago."
"So? I still miss it," Lily replied, squeezing her tighter.
Blair turned to look at her with a sly smile. "What happens when you become a wife, huh? No time for your children anymore."
Lily gasped dramatically. "That's not true! I'm still your mommy."
They both laughed, sinking into that moment of softness only mothers and daughters share. After a beat, Lily sat up and reached into the pocket of her silk robe, pulling out a navy blue envelope.
"Here," she said, placing it on Blair's lap. "There's a ball tonight. Eight o'clock. Fancy, glitzy, grown-up extravaganza."
Blair groaned and dropped her head back onto the pillow. "Seriously?"
"It's from the Coveys. Apparently Mr. Covey is launching something big, and this is the big show," Lily continued. "Everyone's going to be there."
Blair picked up the invitation lazily, peeking at it through half-lidded eyes. The paper was heavy, expensive. Elegant gold print. Yep, it was one of *those* parties.
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. "I didn't even drink last night and I'm still exhausted," she muttered.
Lily leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Well, get some more rest. Then wake up and shine like the diamond you are."
"Mmm-hmm," Blair mumbled, already sinking back under the covers. But after five more minutes of being grumpy and dramatic in bed, she finally kicked off the sheets with a huff, sat up, stretched, and trudged into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.
By the time she was walking down the stairs, her hair still damp and tied up in a soft bun, the house had quieted down. She hit the last step and paused—Cassie was just stepping in through the front door.
Her strappy heels dangled from one hand, and her hair was a little wild like she had been out all night. Blair's eyes flicked from the shoes to her face.
"Morning," Cassie said, casually, as if she hadn't just walked in like a movie scene of a girl after a glamorous mistake.
"Morning," Blair replied, unfazed, and kept walking toward the dining room.
She was starving.
Victor was sitting at the table, already halfway through his coffee, reading something on his tablet. He looked up when Blair walked in and smiled.
"Good morning, Blair. How was yesterday? Did you have fun?"
Blair nodded as she pulled out a chair. "Yeah, I did. Thank you."
"Want anything?" Victor asked, standing up.
"Pancakes?" she asked hopefully.
He grinned. "Coming right up."
While Victor moved into the kitchen, Blair sat down and leaned her cheek into her hand, letting out a long breath.
She picked up her fork just as Poppy trotted into the room and curled up at her feet. Blair bent down and gave the little dog a gentle scratch behind the ears.
She ate her pancakes in peace, the soft clinking of her fork the only sound in the sunlit dining room. Upstairs, Cassie was no doubt knocked out cold.
*Probably had a rough night,* Blair thought as she took another bite, savoring the quiet.