Ever.

“We were supposed to go to dinner by ourselves,” I tell Rose as we stand on the opposite side of the room from where Zachary is. I’m watching him, sipping my glass of wine distractedly. “I forgot about this stupid party and so did he, but we thought we’d make the best of it. Put in an appearance and leave—those were his exact words.” I slowly shake my head, remembering how earnest he’d seemed. How he promised we wouldn’t linger long. What a lie. He came here to see Pilar, not to spend any time with me. “We came together, but the moment we entered the doors he took off. Hasn’t spoken to me since, and we’ve been here over an hour.”

“Are you saying he ditched you?” Rose sounds shocked, though with a hint of sarcasm.

I nod and sip from my wineglass again, surprised to find it empty. I drank that faster than I thought. My head is feeling lighter than usual, too. “Can you believe it?”

“No, I honestly can’t. He’s always so attentive. Sometimes too attentive.” Rose rolls her eyes.

“Not tonight,” I mutter, feeling a little looser. Must be the wine. When one of the wait staff suddenly appears, I reach out and grab a fresh glass, leaving my empty one on his tray. “Thank you,” I say, beaming at him. He smiles and nearly trips over his own feet.

“What’s up with you?” Rose asks the moment the waiter leaves, sounding incredulous. “You’re being weird.”

“How am I being weird?” I drink more wine, enjoying the buzz of the alcohol as it courses through my veins and how it heats my skin. My hair is down, the dress I’m wearing is black and sleeveless, with delicate sheer lace along the shoulders and stretched across the bodice. I have on the highest, shiniest black heels I can muster, the skirt of my dress hits mid-thigh, and maybe it’s the outfit mixed with the wine, but …

I felt pretty, confident, as I prepared for the evening earlier. The day had been positive from the start. I gathered a collection of inspirational photos and sent them to Ryder so he and his team understood my vision. Lily and I met for lunch, and for once she wasn’t drunk by noon or being followed by endless paparazzi. We had a positive, sober conversation. I’d been excited about tonight despite usually dreading these sorts of events.

My excitement withered up and died the moment I realized just how disinterested Zachary was, particularly in me. I don’t understand his hot-and-cold moods. I never have.

“I don’t know. Griping about Zachary—and you never complain about him. Drinking wine like it’s water when you have a one drink maximum at these wretchedly awful parties, and usually just drink club soda. And you flirted with that waiter,” Rose says pointedly.

“I did not.”

“Did so. You smiled at him and almost sent him sprawling.”

“So?” I’m oddly pleased that I could send someone sprawling. “Smiling at a stranger. Is that a crime?”

“When you’re usually too worried and fidgety over what other people think of you, yes. It’s a crime for you, Violet Fowler.” Rose slowly shakes her head, surveying the quietly murmuring crowd before us. “God, this is awful. You, on the other hand, feel like a breath of fresh air.”

“I’m not acting different.” Fine. I am acting different. I’m frustrated with my boyfriend’s behavior. If he doesn’t care about me, then why should I care about him?

I can’t even believe I’m thinking like this.

“You are, but whatever. I’m going to enjoy it. Ply you with more wine and hope you make a spectacle.” Rose starts laughing when I shoot her a deathly glare.

“Stop,” I tell her firmly, going into big-sister mode. “There will be no spectacles made tonight, especially by me.”

Rose lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, isn’t that a shame?”

“What, you want me to make a fool of myself? Become sloppy drunk and get all crazy like Lily?” I continue drinking because it’s calming my frazzled nerves. Not because I want to act the fool. Hearing Pilar laugh, watching as Zachary leans into her and whispers in her ear, is making me upset. But I refuse to confront him. What good would that do me? I’d end up ashamed in the morning. Zachary would make me feel guilty for causing a scene.

I’d rather pretend it’s not happening, no matter how hard that is.

“You shouldn’t knock her,” Rose says quietly. “She’s trying.”

I immediately feel awful. Using my older sister as a punching bag is not my normal style. “I know she is. I had lunch with her today, remember?” I polish off the rest of my glass of wine and snatch Rose’s glass from her hand. She stares at me, her eyes wide, mouth open in shock, and I shrug, not bothering to acknowledge what I just did.

“He’s an ass,” Rose mutters under her breath, and I know exactly who she’s talking about. In fact, I agree. Not that I’m going to say anything.

Ignoring her, I sip from my pilfered glass, purposely keeping my gaze averted from Zachary. Watching him with Pilar only makes me angry. And I don’t feel like being angry tonight. Or upset. Or jealous. Or any of those other, horrible, self-defeating emotions I’m so used to dealing with.

There’s a bit of freedom in not worrying what your boyfriend thinks about you as you drink yourself into oblivion. I should remember that. Revel in it.

Soon you’ll be able to revel in that particular feeling all the time. Especially once Zachary is in London and realizes he doesn’t want to be with you any longer.