I Will Always Love You Read Free

the Carlson curse.” Jason sighed, elbowing Blair in the ribs sympathetically. She stepped away. While it was true Blair
     had never officially been invited to Costa Rica, she’d been invited for Christmas, for God’s sake. Wasn’t that even more exclusive than a beach
     holiday? And why not invite her? After all, she’d brought Nate on her family vacations for years and it wasn’t like she’d been married to him.
    Except in her dreams.
    “Blair, we love you and we want you in our family for years to come, but I need to be a stickler on this,” Chappy explained
     sympathetically, as if she were one of his constituents, arguing over some impossibly arcane rule. “I’ve raised four boys,
     and while they’ve behaved around you, honestly, these gentlemen cause more theatrics when it comes to ladies than the Yale
     School of Drama,” he finished, shaking his head.
    “Maybe you could get together with your girlfriends and have a girls’ adventure!” Pete’s sister-in-law Sarah piped up from
     the corner of the room, stroking her Lilly Pulitzer–patterned eight-months-pregnant belly. “I remember when I heard the Carlson
     rule, I had a great time with the Theta girls. We went to Cancún!”A look of happy reminiscence crossed Sarah’s lightly tanned,
     heart-shaped face.
    “You did?” Randy asked, shooting a look at Sarah. “I didn’t know that.”
    “Sorry, son!” Chappy clapped Pete on the back. “Sorry, Scout!”
    Blair narrowed her eyes at a painting that hung over the fireplace, of a ship in what looked like an exceptionally violent
     storm. What a boring, random piece of art to hang in a house. Suddenly she hated her stupid nickname. Scout?
    Out would have been more appropriate.
    “Blair, I’m sorry,” Pete said simply. “I thought you understood….”
    “What? I knew I wasn’t coming,” Blair lied, smiling fakely. Her stomach was churning wildly. For a brief second, she wanted
     to excuse herself, run to the second-floor bathroom, and puke everything she’d eaten for the past five days.
    “Blair, darling, here’s your hot chocolate. I made sure to put some extra marshmallows in there.” Jane pushed the steaming
     ceramic mug into Blair’s hands. “Won’t you sit down?” She gestured to one of the comfortable overstuffed forest green chairs.
    “Thanks.” Blair nodded. She squared her shoulders and turned to the waiting Carlson clan. No way was she going to let the
     Brady Bunch see her sweat. “You all ready to play?” She forced herself to smile, a plan already forming.
    “Maybe I will have a wild girls’ weekend,” she whispered in Pete’s ear. “I haven’t been to New York all year, except those two weekends
     with you, and those don’t count, since we never even left the hotel.” His face fell as he no doubt pictured all the raucous
     fun she’d be having without him. Blair raised an eyebrow challengingly. After all, she was a woman. A Yale woman. She had
     places to go.
    And more important games to play.
    make new friends, but keep the old…
    “This came from the man at the other end of the bar,” the skinny bartender-slash-model wearing a cheesy Ed Hardy T-shirt said
     as he proffered a glass of Veuve Clicquot.
    “Thanks.” Serena van der Woodsen glanced down the long, dark oak bar of Saucebox, the new lounge in the just-opened T Hotel
     on Thompson Street. Breckin O’Dell, a handsome but boring actor she vaguely remembered meeting a few times, held up his own
     glass of champagne and saluted her. Serena nodded, brought the flute to her lips, and took a healthy sip, even though she
     preferred vodka.
    “Oh my God, you should totally date him. His agent has ridiculous connections.” Amanda Atkins yanked on the sleeve of Serena’s
     black Row scoop-neck jersey dress in excitement. “Can we get some shots down here?” she called to the bartender. Serena smiled
     sheepishly. Amanda was an eighteen-year-old recent LA transplant best known for her role in a