Another difference between me and my sisters is in the way we cry.

Brianna, as far as I know, doesn’t cry at all. The last time I saw her cry was when she fell off a horse when she was twelve and broke her collarbone. Even then, she was stoic about it, biting her lip and fighting to keep the tears back.

On the other hand, pretty much everything makes Carina cry: babies, kittens, Super Bowl commercials, sappy love songs, sentimental memes … you name it. Her eyes well up with tears at the drop of a hat, and if she’s really moved, they’ll roll down her face one delicate drop at a time, like a heroine from an old movie. Her skin remains flawless, her makeup stays intact. At worst, she’ll give a ladylike sniff followed by a soft, self-deprecating laugh at how silly she’s being, and the world falls in love with her all over again.

I, of course, not only cry, but ugly cry.

But before I give into the tears that I held back on the drive back to my apartment, I take a few minutes to fill out the feedback form from Gentlemen, Inc. that’s been sitting in my inbox since Friday, and I absolutely trash Archer. It’s petty and mean, and for all I know, Cassandra will ignore it and Archer will never hear about it. It’s a tiny outlet for the storm of emotions that threatens to drown me, but it’s better than nothing.

Fortunately, my roommates are both at work, so I have the apartment to myself, and I don’t bother to choke back my sobs when I finally give into them. I’m not sure how long I cry, but it’s long enough to give me a bad headache, and by the time I go into the bathroom to shower and see if I can get myself under control again, my eyes are swollen and red, my nose is running, and my skin is blotchy and pale.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Elizabeth Taylor … what a joke.

The whole weekend was a joke, and the worst part was that I have no one to blame for this fiasco except myself.

I allowed myself to fall in love—and sleep with!—a man I’d known for just three days. A man I knew to be a good actor, with a troubled past, who saw the world as a great big balance sheet, favors done and favors returned. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.

Well, I’d been scratched, all right. Scarred, in fact.

Being heartbroken is bad enough, but being heartbroken and feeling stupid is worse.

And I have no one to talk to, though I desperately want to talk the whole thing through, get some of it off my chest. But how much sympathy would my roommates or my fellow graduate students, most of whom have to count every penny, have for a rich girl who’d spent hundreds of dollars on a date just to impress her family? The entire sorry episode makes me look entitled, insecure, and desperate. I’m not sure who I can turn to and expect a sympathetic ear.

I’m not sure if I actually deserve one.

I get in the shower and let the cool water run over me until the angst subsides into calm—or at least numbness. When I get out, I’ve stopped sobbing intermittently and the blotches on my face have started to fade. My eyes are still red, but not as swollen as they were, and I’ve realized that there are two people I can talk to.

I’m not sure how they’ll react, but I do know that no matter what, they’ll still love me.

Three hours later, I’m sitting in Brianna’s expensive condo in downtown Los Angeles. The city is spread out below us, the hills in the distance, and the sun is starting to set, turning the sky brilliant shades of pink and orange and gold.

I’m feeling … not better, exactly, but calm enough to talk the whole thing over with my sisters. Bree mixes me a drink from her bar, while Carina looks at me through wide, concerned eyes.

Neither of them knows yet what’s going on, but when I texted them and said I needed to see them tonight, their response was immediate. Brianna left the office before seven and Carina met us here, and now they’re both waiting for me to spill the whole sad story.

Brianna hands me a cold tumbler filled with ice and alcohol. I take a sip.

“Oof, that’s strong!”

“Drink it slowly,” she orders. “You only get one.”

Carina, sitting next to me on the couch, squeezes my hand. “What’s going on, sweetie?” she asks.

So I take a deep breath and tell them.

I tell them about how I read about Gentlemen, Inc. in a magazine a few months ago, and that when Mom told me to find a date for the spring party, I got the crazy idea to hire a beautiful man.

“I could have introduced you to someone!” Carina exclaims. “I know tons of guys.”

I shake my head. “They’re all in love with you, Carina,” I point out. “Whenever I bring a guy home, he can’t keep his eyes off you. It just got embarrassing not being able to keep anyone’s attention. I just thought it would be nice to, you know, not have to worry about that for once.” I look down at the tumbler of ice. “I feel sort of stupid about it now.”

Brianna gives me an appraising look. “Actually, I think it was rather enterprising of you,” she says, taking me aback. “I might look into Gentlemen, Inc. for myself.”

Carina and I stare at her.

“Why not?” she says. “I don’t have time for a real relationship, and I have some events coming up where I should really bring a date. Archer certainly played his part well.” She shrugs. “I think it’s a fabulous idea.”

I blink. Brianna’s not the type to say something she doesn’t mean just to make you feel better, so I guess I should accept this for the rather odd compliment it is. It beats being told I’m pathetic.

“Not that I condone lying to your family,” Brianna adds quickly before my ego gets too comfortable. Fair enough, I guess. I look sheepishly at my lap.

“But why did you feel like you had to impress us in the first place?” Carina asks. “We’re your family. We just want you to be happy.”

“I know.” I give her a tired smile. “But you two are just so … gorgeous and successful and popular. I feel like kind of a dud next to you.”

“Yes, I hear you doctoral students are a bunch of slackers,” Brianna says drily.

I roll my eyes. “Look, I know I’m smart, and my research means a lot to me, but it’s a different world. When I’m with you two, or Mom and Dad for that matter, I feel plain and out of place. I just wanted an evening where I didn’t feel like that.” I look down at my drink.

“So what was the deal with bringing Archer to the lake?” asks Brianna. “Were you still trying to impress us? You two did a good job. I never would have guessed it was an act.”

I can feel my cheeks start to warm up. “I wasn’t acting … but I think he was.”

I tell them about the weekend: Archer’s supposed fight with his roommate, his promise to continue being my charming fake boyfriend, hooking up, finding out after his abrupt departure that he had a meeting with Zac, then meeting Alex.

“So, basically, I think he not only had a girlfriend all along, but he was just using me to get to Zac through Mom and Dad,” I conclude.

Carina’s eyes, not surprisingly, glitter with tears. “Oh, sweetie! I’m so sorry this happened to you!” She slides next to me on the couch and puts an arm around me.

Brianna says nothing for a long time. I study her expression, trying to get a read on what she’s thinking. “I agree that there’s something off about the whole thing,” she says, “but I have to wonder if there’s more going on. I really thought … I thought he really liked you.”

I manage a cynical little smile. “Listen to you, the hopeless romantic,” I say.

Something flashes in her eyes and for a moment I wonder if I’ve hurt her feelings, but she recovers quickly. “I’m not being sentimental,” she says, as if sentimentality is something that comes covered with germs. “You two just seemed really genuine, is all.” She sighs and looks a little wistful.

Carina breaks in. “Well, I think you’re better off without him,” she says loyally. “You’re beautiful and smart and wonderful, and you totally deserve better than a guy who’s using you for anything. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, and we’re going to find you one!”

I smile gratefully at her. I don’t particularly want another guy, but I’m touched that she’s being protective and supportive.

“I have an idea!” she continues brightly. “We got passes at work to a new club that’s opening this weekend. Why don’t we all go out together? Get Annabelle’s mind off Archer?” She looks hopefully at me. “There’ll be lots of nice guys there. Maybe we can find you someone new to take your mind off Archer.”

Brianna looks slightly pained at the thought; clubs aren’t really her scene. They aren’t mine either, to be honest, but I could use a distraction.

I’m not looking for another guy—I need some time to lick my wounds over Archer first—but I’m no longer worried about being in Carina and Brianna’s shadow. I’ve learned my lesson, and from now on, I just want to be myself.

And heck, a high-end club with a bunch of Carina’s co-workers could actually be fun.

“You don’t have to come,” I tell Brianna with an understanding smile. “But it would be nice if you did.”

She sighs. “Fine, I’ll show up for a bit. But I’m not staying late.”

“Yay!” Carina claps her hands together. “We’re going to show you the best time,” she says to me. “This time next week, you’ll have forgotten all about Archer!”

Carina insists on taking me shopping on Saturday afternoon. We get a quick dinner, then she goes back to my place with me to help me get ready.

I dress in my new white cigarette pants, gold sandals, a leopard print bustier, and a cropped white jacket. It’s a new and somewhat alarming look for me, but once Carina is done with my makeup, I have to admit, I like what I see in the mirror.

I’m still short, still curvy, but I look sophisticated, like I go clubbing on a regular basis. The truth is, I’ve only been a few times, but tonight, I promise myself, I’m going to have fun. I have no plans for tomorrow, so I’ll stay out late, dance with anyone who asks me, have a few drinks, and take an Uber home.

I’m just going to enjoy myself, and not worry about what anyone thinks of me.

We meet Brianna on the street outside the new club, and thanks to Carina’s passes, we skip the line that’s formed and head in. We get drinks, Carina runs into a bunch of people she knows from work, and pretty soon we’re dancing with them.

Despite my determination to have fun, my heart isn’t really in it, but after a couple of drinks, I’m starting to loosen up. I don’t let myself think about Archer, I just focus on the music, and the dancing. It might be my imagination but one of Carina’s co-workers seems to be paying particular attention to me; he seems like a nice guy and I’m flattered, but he doesn't do anything for me.

He’s not Archer.

A couple of drinks and a several dances into the evening, I slip away to the ladies room and shut myself up in one of the stalls just so I can have some peace and quiet. I appreciate Carina and Brianna trying to cheer me up, and I acknowledge that I'm probably better off here than moping at home, but the whole evening feels forced. It’s not my scene, and I decide that I'll have one more drink, maybe a couple more dances, then head home and get some rest.

I’m on my way back to our table when someone grabs my arm.

“Oh my God, Annabelle! How are you?”

I turn.

It’s Alex, and she's smiling at me like we’re old friends.