Page 204 of Faking Cinderella
That someone else—someone I miss terribly—told them to say that?
But no—when I look back at the door, it’s empty.
“And again, going to the press if you don’t,” Jack says.
“Fun thing about the press these days is that they’ll print anything halfway believable,” Lucky says.
“And I make shit up for a living, so I know how to make this story fuckingsparkle,” Decker says.
Jack nods. “We help from time to time.”
“We don’t need money to make your life hell,” Lucky chimes in.
“We’ll do it for fun,” Decker says. “And we’ll be good at it.”
“Because you’re a dick,” Jack adds.
“A dick who’s never going to bother us or our sisters or family ever again.”
A tear slides down my cheek.
Daph leans her head on my shoulder. “Honestly, best brothers I could’ve ever asked for. And Bea has some pretty awesome brothers.”
“Where is my goddamn security?” my father bellows. “You’ll do nothing?—”
“DNA doesn’t lie,” Lucky says.
“We’re your sons,” Jack agrees. “Not happy about it, but dude, we have the same eyes and the same noses too. Unfortunately for us.”
“And if you want to accuse us of lying about it, we’ll take you to court and make you prove you’re not,” Decker finishes.
My god, the way I love these men.
It’s like having Daphneandme all rolled into one.
“Anything you want to add, Margot? Daphne?” Decker looks back at us.
I shake my head and swipe my cheeks.
“Margot said it all already,” Daph says. “They’re not our problem anymore. We just want to live our own happy lives.”
“Great,” Decker says.
“Have fun being miserable.” Jack waves.
Lucky steers them toward the door, hustling Daph and me too. “Our lawyers will be in touch,” he calls back over his shoulder.
I look left and right as we leave the dining room, the five of us hustling down the steps to the door, but I don’t see?—
I don’t see what I want to see.
My heart.
I don’t see my heart.
“The polar bears?” Daphne whispers. “You didn’t tell me you were going to make demands for the polar bears.”
“We, ah, had some time for research on the plane,” Lucky says.
