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element while I did homework at the cutting table. They spoke their own
language. They were as passionate about their work as they were about each
other.
Bianca couldn’t defile my childhood happiness. I wouldn’t allow it.
“Well, hello, Estella,” Bianca said. “So surprised to see you here.”
“What are you wearing?” I hissed.
“What are you wearing?” Bianca clenched the matching clutch, which
had streams of feathered ribbon fringe on the bottom. “Wasn’t that in my
closet?”
Stolen. It was stolen and it was my right to steal it.
“It’s got my name on it.” My drink was in my right hand, so I jabbed my
finger in her direction with my left.
“What do you have there?” She was looking at my ring, then at Logan
and me.
“Oh, this?” I said. “Well, Logan and I—”
She’d pulled me into a hug before I could finish. “This is wonderful!
You didn’t tell me you were involved!”
There wasn’t an ounce of suspicion in her voice, but she was a great
actress.
“We didn’t tell anyone,” Logan said.
“You must call me Mother from now on.”
“I will.”
“Oh, my God, you’re Mrs. Crowne!”
“Not quite, I—”
“I’m so, so happy! Jean-Claude!”
The designer had been distracted by another guest, but Bianca pulled his
shoulder.
“Look!” She pointed at my ring, and I plastered on a smile to show him.
He congratulated me and kissed both my cheeks.
“So, that’s how you got invited,” he said with a little laugh.
I wanted to slap him for every shitty way he’d undermined me since the
day we met. “And how did you get invited? Plus-oneing I guess?”
“Hey,” Logan said into my ear, “let’s dance.”
“But—” The rest was lost in his insistent tug toward the open space,
where he put his arms around my waist and held me close.
“Breathe,” he said. “Just take it easy. Be nice to my stepmother-in-law.”
“I’m sorry. That was childish.”