wrong to bring her here. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.
Twenty-Seven
Poppy
I’m sitting on the toilet with my elegant dress bundled up around me when two women walk into the restroom. They don’t know I’m here, and I don’t bother revealing myself, especially after I hear them mention Matthew’s name.
“Who’s that woman Matt’s with?” one of them asks the other.
“That’s his fiancée.”
“His fiancée? When did that happen?”
“Just a few weeks ago, I believe.”
The woman snorts. “I was just in that bed of his a few months ago. How did he get engaged so fast?”
“No clue. Maybe he was cheating on her,” the other suggests. “It wouldn’t be the first time you were the other woman,” she points out.
He wasn’t cheating on me. That was before our arrangement began, but it’s not like I can say that.
“Wonder who she is? Or how in the hell she managed to land him, of all people. We’d dated and fucked around for years and I never got a proposal.” She sounds bitter, angry.
“All I know is that she isn’t from around here, and by that, I mean she isn’t exactly in our social class. My grandmother is friends with his grandmother. Apparently, there’s been a big squabble about his father not wanting him to marry her, but his grandmother really likes her. Matt and his dad haven’t talked since . . . well, tonight, I guess.”
“So this woman he’s with is poor? Like, drives a Prius or some shit?” she jokes.
“Want to know my opinion?”
“Well, I guess I might as well. You’re going to tell me anyway.”
The other woman snorts. “I think it’s all fake. I think she’s either using him for his money or he’s using her.”
“Why in the world would he use her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to get his father off his back? Or maybe there’s some kind of clause in his trust fund that states he can’t receive the full amount until he’s married. Who knows? You know how stuff is done around here. You saw her talking to Jefferson’s new wife, didn’t you? They were probably exchanging pointers.”
So that’s what people think? That I’m using him for his money or that he’s using me to get money? No one thinks we’re just happy and in love? This isn’t a world I want to be a part of. But it is his world. If I want him, I have to accept all of him. But can I accept this? These horrible events with even more horrible people?
I stand up and lower my dress back into its original position. I open the door of the stall and step out. The two women gasp as their eyes grow wide with surprise.
I walk up to the sink and wash my hands while they stare blankly at me, watching and waiting to see what I’ll say or do. I finish washing my hands and pick up a towel. As I dry my hands, my eyes stay on them. They’re still frozen in fear.
“You know,” I start, my voice calm, “it’s impolite to talk about such private things in public, right?” I wait, but of course, they don’t answer. I toss my towel into the basket and take one step closer. They both step back as an automatic response. “Well, I’m sure you two know that. I mean, you are upper-class after all, and that’s common knowledge even where I’m from.” I look them up and down with a snotty look on my face. “Or . . . are you lower-class like me? I mean, those dresses!” I roll my eyes. “So, whose gold are you two digging?” I lean forward and fake whisper. “Matthew Lewis is mine, so hands off.”
One of them, the braver one, stands up tall. “We are not lower-class. We were raised here. We belong here.”
“Oh, you could’ve fooled me. I could’ve sworn those Louis Vuittons were knockoffs from Maxwell Street Market.”
She looks down at her shoes. “These are not knockoffs!”
Clearly, assuming her shoes are knockoffs is way better than actually insulting her. I shrug. “Oh well. Enjoy the party, ladies. And don’t forget, check under the stalls before you start gossiping about someone, especially if you have no idea what’s really going on. I mean, come on. I’m a gold digger? That’s the most creative thing you could come up with? I mean, who knows? Maybe I’m his secret stepsister who’s blackmailing him into having an illicit and dirty affair or I’ll spill the family secrets.” I roll my