Rowan

I’m curled up with a blanket, a cup of tea, and my laptop Saturday morning, doing a bit of online “research” on Keir in an attempt to prove my point.

All I want is one shred of proof that there’s a chance he’s telling the truth. Maybe something nice he did? Some charity he volunteered at? Some write-up about a woman he didn’t screw over?

But I’m O for twenty so far.

I’d have to be blind not to notice the picture these articles paint.

He’s a bona fide playboy, just like every other single, thirty-ish, red-blooded man in this world. He plays, he makes his rounds, and he gets himself in trouble.

I just find it extremely difficult to believe he flipped a switch and now wants to be some monogamous saint.

Still don’t buy it.

KEIR MONTGOMERY SPOTTED WITH BACHELORETTE KELSI GIOVANI IN ST. BARTS

Things are getting heated in St. Barts, and this time it’s not the summer sun. President Montgomery’s youngest—and only remaining eligible—son was making waves on the beach strolling hand in hand with last season’s Bachelorette, Kelsi Giovani, who famously dumped the season’s winner, Nick Cavashaw, on live television during a reunion special.

Witnesses say when the two single-and-ready-to-mingle lovebirds were holed up in their private cabana ordering room service, they were playing on the beach, creating quite the spectacle for onlookers.

We’ll be watching for Keir and Kelsi to make their stateside debut. Check back for the latest in celebrity gossip!

RONAN MONTGOMERY IS MARRIED! YOUNGER BROTHER KEIR NAMED DC’S MOST ELIGIBLE

Ladies, we hate to be the bearer of bad news, but our source confirms that Ronan Montgomery has tied the knot with his DC-escort-turned-actress, Camille Buchanan. While we can’t deny they make a stunning pair and it’s clear they’re madly in love, a little part of our hearts is in mourning.

But all is not lost for those of you aspiring to one day become American royalty! Ronan’s younger brother, notorious playboy and Casanova extraordinaire, is still on the market.

We’re not quite sure he’s ready to settle down just yet, but you never know …

One lucky lass might come along and be the one to change his naughty ways.

PRESIDENT’S SON CAUGHT IN THREE-WAY BY HEIRESS FIANCEE

It’s official. Heiress Serena Randall has called off her engagement to America’s most eligible bachelor, Keir Montgomery. Sources tell us she caught him in bed with not one, but two other women.

And here we thought he was ready to settle down …

From what we’ve been told, the heiress was allegedly involved in a car accident and is quietly recuperating at her father’s estate in the country, out of the public eye.

Best wishes for a speedy recovery, Serena.

YOUNGEST MONTGOMERY BROTHER ASSAULTED AT VEGAS CLUB

Keir Montgomery’s weekend of debauchery came to a swift end at club ALO Saturday night when a group of men assaulted him. We’re told Keir had hooked up with one of the men’s girlfriends the night before, which was the catalyst for this ambush attack.

According to the police report, Keir suffered from a busted lip, a black eye, as well as a smashed cell phone. Witnesses tell us the attackers waited outside his restroom stall. His Secret Service agents were able to intervene before things went too far, but if you ask us, the biggest injury Keir suffered that night was that of a bruised ego.

Our source tells us he cut his trip short, demanding to fly home the next day.

KEIR MONTGOMERY REVEALS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE SINGLE AND MISUNDERSTOOD

Keir Montgomery, known for seldom giving sit-down interviews, took the time last Sunday to talk to Dateline NBC about the damning stories included in Camille Buchanan-Montgomery’s jaw-dropping memoir, Dark Paradise.

Chapter eight details a night spent with Keir at his penthouse, in which he pretended to be his brother in an attempt to sleep with her.

In the interview, Keir claims that the entire situation was misunderstood. He says he didn’t know she and his brother had been seeing each other privately, and that made her ‘fair game.’ Had he known they were talking, he never would have been that forward with her.

He met her at a bar, found her beautiful, and didn’t correct her when she assumed he was Ronan, as he’d grown up his entire life with people confusing the two of them.

Keir insists he’s misunderstood and that he isn’t the villain she made him out to be. He only offered to give the interview in hopes that people might give his side of the story a chance.

Keir also claims that the tell-all memoir is riddled with lies and misgivings, and he highly doubts the credibility of a woman skilled in making people believe what they want to believe.

He likened the book to poorly written fictional drama and told everyone to take it with a grain of salt.

MONTGOMERY BROTHERS NAMED DC’S MOST STYLISH

Keir Montgomery named DC’s most stylish man by DC Living Magazine. This marks the fifth year in a row the committee has selected Keir. When reached for comment, Keir asked us if we had more interesting things to write about.

Sources tell us he’s been utilizing stylist Jenny Hong and impossible-to-book hairstylist Enrique Juarez. We’ve yet to confirm, but the little birdies chirping in our ear are very reliable.

We’re also told his go-to designers are Dolce and Gabbana and Tom Ford.

Yeah, no. Not buying it.

And still wildly disappointed about Thursday night.

Though I’ll give him credit … helping me retrieve my nineteen-year-old sister from a drunken night of debauchery was kind. And I’m not sure when he managed to do this, but at some point he left a note for me with the doorman. It was his number in a sealed envelope along with the words, “For when you change your mind.”

I imagine he doesn’t give his number to just anyone, but I don’t let that sway me.

I meant what I said … I don’t want a relationship.

A knock at my door pulls me back to the present, and I close my laptop and place it on an end table. Checking the peephole before I answer, I see my sister on the other side sporting sweats and dark sunglasses.

“You partied again, didn’t you?” I ask when I answer, one hand resting on my hip.

She pushes past me, exhaling before kicking her sneakers off and spreading out on my sofa. “I feel like crap, Row.”

“I bet.”

“They say if you’re hungover, it goes away if you drink again. I was hungover yesterday, so I drank last night, but now I just feel ten times worse.” Hannah yanks her glasses from her nose and rests her forearm over her eyes. “Am I dying? Is this what death feels like?”

“Do not throw up on my couch.” I head to the kitchen to grab a bowl. “And you’re too inexperienced to be drinking like this. Something really bad could’ve happened to you. And can you imagine if someone recognizes you as an Aldridge and snaps a picture and it goes viral? Mom and Dad would be destroyed. Their entire brand would be destroyed.”

“It’s such a crock, isn’t it?” she asks.

“What?”

“Being an Aldridge,” she says with a sigh. “And all those parenting books.”

“No, they put a lot of effort and research into those books,” I say.

“Yeah, but, like, we were raised by nannies, Rowan,” she says. “There are hundreds of thousands of parents out there using our parents’ parenting strategies, and our parents didn’t even use them.”

“They were always traveling. They didn’t want to take us out of school. They wanted us to have some kind of normal life … a schedule … a routine …” I hate making excuses for them, but sometimes it’s easier to rewrite history to make it a little more palatable.

Hannah sits up, laughing. “Normal? Life? A normal life would’ve been playing catch with Dad in the backyard. Family cookouts. Vacations. Not being carted around from cello to piano to ballet to soccer by a team of nannies.”

I can’t argue with her. Growing up, my parents traveled the world promoting their “Happy Child, Happy Family” book, the one that launched their careers. Everything exploded so fast. The success and subsequent overnight fame that followed. The money. The notoriety.

The five of us kids became afterthoughts, burdens.

You couldn’t make that kind of irony up if you tried.

“I don’t know how you do it, Row,” she says, shaking her head.

“Do what?”

“Be so perfect all the time.”

I laugh. “Sweets, I’m far from perfect. No one is.”

“Yeah, but you do everything they say, you go everywhere they tell you to go, you dress and act the way they want. Sometimes I’m in awe of you, other times I feel sorry for you.”

Tucking my chin, I draw in a deep breath and debate whether or not I should tell her. She’s old enough to know, but then again, I feel a sense of duty to her—to all of my siblings. She needs someone to look up to. And I love the way she looks at me. I’d hate to lose that.

“Oh, and by the way, I only realized this morning on the way here that the guy in the car the other night was Keir Montgomery. Holy shit, Rowan. Why were you hanging out with the president’s son?”

“We weren’t hanging out … it wasn’t like that … I mean, we were, but it wasn’t anything—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Hannah sits up, pointing a finger. “How did you meet him? And you know Mom and Dad would be on cloud nine if they knew there was a chance the two of you would—”

“—there’s no chance,” I cut her off.

“They love the Montgomerys,” she continues. “Love, love, lovvvve.”

“I know.” I know because they missed sending me off to the airport when I was spending the summer in Belgium because they were volunteering on the Montgomery campaign.

“He’s extremely hot,” she says, as if I didn’t already know. “Does he want to date you?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to date anyone right now. Kind of just want to be alone for a while.”

Hannah groans. “It’s Hunter. You’re still hung up on him.”

I shake my head, but she sees the truth in my eyes, I’m sure of it.

I wish I could snap my fingers and never think of Hunter again, but everything reminds me of him. The honeysuckle body wash in my shower that he picked out because he loved the way it smelled on me. His extra bottle of cologne sitting next to his spare toothbrush in my bathroom. The top drawer in my dresser that I’d cleared out for him still holds his t-shirts and pajama bottoms.

He’s everywhere, and I can’t quite bring myself to toss those out yet. Lovesickness is real.

“Oh, look, the sun finally decided to come out,” Hannah says, rising and heading to my kitchen, where she proceeds to raid my fridge. Apparently her hangover is making her hungry. “It’s time to move on, Row. I mean, Hunter has.”

My stomach drops.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“I saw him last weekend … I didn’t tell you?” She grabs a package of hummus and inspects it before checking the date. “He was with some brunette, walking into a restaurant on a Friday night. Cucoccelli’s, I think?”

The weight in my chest that’s been residing there for the last couple of weeks is heavier now, threatening to sink me deeper.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I say, hating the way my voice breaks. My eyes begin to burn, but I’m too angry to allow myself to cry. “He said he wanted to break up so he could focus on his campaign. He said he wouldn’t have time to focus on a relationship and that it wasn’t fair to me.”

Hannah grabs a bag of carrots and pops the lid off the hummus. “And you believed him? Rowan, he’s a politician. And politicians lie. It’s just what they do.”

As soon as I’m able to find my footing, I grab my phone and the slip of paper with Keir’s number on it and I text him, “About that date? Yes.”

It may be petty, but I’m a woman scorned, and I’d love nothing more than for Hunter to believe I’ve moved on just as quickly as he has … and with the son of the president, no less.

He’ll hate that. He always hated Keir, mocking him every time he read an article or saw him on TV. I never questioned how he could hate someone with such a passion, so I boiled it down to jealousy and decades-old resentment. Their fathers both campaigned for governor years and years ago, with the Montgomerys winning by a landslide.

Anyway, word travels fast in this town.

It’ll get back to him like one giant “Fuck you,” and then maybe I can finally bring myself to move on.