Harper scoffed as she crossed the room to her bed and took off her boots. “Sure, I am. There’s no way in Hades I will fall in love with that boy. I mean Cooper is good lookin’ and all, but he’s not exactly bright. If he threw himself on the ground he’d miss.”

I raised my Scarlet O’Hara brow. “I didn’t mean be safe with your heart. I meant safe sex.” God, when did I turn into a parent?

Harper swung around. “With Cooper?” She shimmied out of her jeans and top, leaving her standing with her hands on her hips in only her underwear. Modesty wasn’t Harper’s strong point. “If you think I’m givin’ anything away to a guy like Cooper Stone, then you’re crazier than what Mama says.”

Again, another raised brow. “Mama thinks I’m crazy?”

“Like a road runnin’ lizard.” She pulled an oversized t-shirt over her head and then sat on the edge of her bed, pulling her long hair over her shoulder to plait it. I sat down next to her.

“Yeah, well if I’m crazy it’s because of all this debutante bullshit. It’s like I came back from California and rode straight into crazy town.”

“Mama says you don’t enjoy it because you’re too damn stubborn to even try.”

“Crazy and stubborn. Boy, Mama was on a roll.”

She paused with her plait. “Do you miss California?”

Boom. There was that ache again. Every time I thought about it, which let’s face it was all the time, the crater in my chest got bigger.

I nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Harper knew about Heath. Well, not everything. But she knew I had met someone and that I’d left them behind. Clearly she suspected things, but rehashing them with her would only make it harder for me to move on. Heath didn’t exist in this house. And it would make it easier to get over him if that’s the way it stayed.

“Have you thought of going back?”

I nodded and then sighed. “Every day.”

“Well, I think it’s crazy you even came back. When I turn eighteen, I’m out of here. No way Mama is going to put me through all this debutante malarkey. I’ll run away before I let that happen.”

“She’ll find you.”

“Maybe. But she’ll have to haul me back by the bra strap because I won’t come home willingly.” She thought for a minute. “If you go back to California, can I have your room?”

“I’m not going back to California.”

“Pity. Your room is so much better than mine.”

“That’s because our parents like me better.”

She grinned and nudged me with her shoulder. But her smile faded.

“Why did you come back here? You’re miserable.”

“No, I’m not.”

She scoffed. “Harlow, you look like you’ve been rode hard and hung out to dry.”

“I do not,” I protested. Did I? I mean, was I that bad? I frowned. “What do you know anyway, you’re only sixteen?”

Now she raised her eyebrow.

“I’m sixteen; not blind.” She climbed into bed and pulled up the blankets. “If I were you I’d catch the first flight out of here heading west.”

“And if I were you, I’d make the most of being sixteen and not having to worry about your debutante ball for another two years.” I grinned and stood up, leaning over her to kiss her on the forehead. “Good night, sister.”

She smiled up at me from her pillow. “One day I’m going to California and I’m never coming back.”

“Then I only hope California will be ready.”

In the quiet of my own room I sat at the large window and leaned against the sill. It had been a particularly tiresome week of last minute dress fittings, dance classes and gala rehearsals. I knew I should get some rest. But I hated closing my eyes. Because when I did, I saw him and my chest would ache from the great big fucking hole where my heart used to be.

I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them. The moon was large and bright. It cast a silvery glow across the immaculate lawns and gardens and its reflection shimmered in the duck pond. I exhaled deeply. I had never felt so alone or as broken hearted as I did tonight. I missed Heath. And I knew it had nothing to do with the nostalgic moonlight, and everything to do with the fact that I was still terribly in love with him.

* * * * *

It was the day of the deb ball and the day’s events passed by me like I was watching them from a car window. My mother had a professional makeup and hair styling team work on me while I stared sightlessly at my reflection in the mirror. It took an exhausting two hours and by the end of it I was ready to threaten anyone with pain if they came near me with one more bobby pin.

Outwardly, I looked like the perfect debutante. My strapless dress was such a pale blue it was almost white. It hugged my figure in all the right places and was heavily beaded with Swarovski crystals so it shimmered with light when I moved. To add to the sparkle, a thin diamond choker glittered around my neck and an exquisite diamond tiara was fixed into my hair.

My outfit was finally complete when I slipped two long white gloves up my arms. They were a last minute addition because apparently tattoos weren’t considered very ladylike.

Finally ready, I met my parents in the grand foyer of our home. My mother was striking in cream and gold with her hair pulled on top of her head in an elegant chignon. For her, it was an important day. As a part of the organizing committee, she had worked tirelessly to ensure the gala would dazzle everyone and she wanted it to be so spectacular that they would hear about it as far afield as Alabama and the Carolinas.

My daddy looked handsome in his suit. It was easy to imagine the handsome young man who had won and then lost the love of his life all those years ago. Our talk had brought us closer which meant the world to me. But it also took me that one step closer to perhaps being able to accept my mother for all her hateful faults.

Closer. Yes. But there was still a long way to go.

Colton arrived and there was no doubt that he looked handsome. When he saw me he whistled.

“Goddamn Miss Montmarte, I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” he said, kissing my hand and oozing charm. He was dressed in his West Point finery and smelled like Southern Blend.

I just smiled sweetly and prayed I would get through the evening’s events without wanting to throw myself off a cliff.

Harper joined us wearing a gorgeous Valentino dress, but much to my mother’s disapproval, had switched her Manolo Blahnik’s for a pair of Converse high-tops. She was lucky our mother was so distracted making my life hell to worry about her youngest child’s fashion rebellion.

We rode with my parents to the venue of the ball, which was at a sprawling plantation just out of town. Cameras flashed. Local media gathered on the gravel driveway. Everywhere you turned there was another stunning girl in a stunning white gown. As we pulled up under the antebellum portico, I felt sick and out of step with everything going on around me.

After posing for a trillions of photos, we left my parents and sister, and joined the rest of the debutantes and escorts in the backrooms of the Grand Oaks Plantation. Cristal champagne circulated on silver platters carried by waiters in white boleros. Diamonds glittered. Silver and gold glinted amongst precious gems. Everywhere you turned, white magnolias and ribbons festooned light fittings, furnishings and timber railings.

I snatched a long flute of champagne from a passing waiter and downed it in seconds.

“Since when do you drink champagne?” Colton asked.

“Since my mother starting making me attend debutante balls,” I said grabbing a second flute of champagne.

“A debutante doesn’t drink like a trucker,” he said, and took the second flute of champagne from me. “

I took it back. “This one does.”

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a very pretty Laurie-Beth Westfield smiling back at me. She out-sparkled the champagne with the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. A friend from school, Laurie-Beth was one of the nicest girls this side of California.