“No Blythe or dogs allowed.” I stared at the sign on the gate, my eyes burning. Blythe was my name. Now it sat there beside “dogs,” a joke crafted just for me. And yet, I was happy. Because I was back. I had returned to the day of Alistair Bennett’s birthday party. In everyone’s eyes, I had never been good enough for Alistair. He was the heir to New York’s Bennett family; I was just an orphan they had taken in. When we were children, one of the adults had casually remarked that I would marry him when we grew up. No one ever took the words back, and so the matter dragged on for more than twenty years. To everyone else, being tied to me meant Alistair was getting the short end of the stick. He thought so, too. That was why he’d had someone put this sign at the party entrance, barring me from entry after I’d already gotten dressed for the occasion. “Blythe, we’re not the ones keeping you out. Alistair doesn’t want you inside.” “Just leave. Don’......
