The Designated Twin

12. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Finley

Lucy Spence is acting strange tonight.

She looks the same, despite the bangs, which are admittedly cute. Though I do miss that certain sophistication she had without them. Her sister looked more like the Lucy I knew with pinned-back bangs that I can only surmise weren’t styled tonight like last time.

I glance at the pretty woman beside me in the passenger seat, who is elbows deep in her big, white purse that looks more like a carry-on bag one might bring on a plane.

She notices my stare, peeks up at me through a cascade of strawberry blonde hair, smiles gently, and says, “One second. It’s in here somewhere.”

“Take your time.” We are parked in the lot of Bellina Gardens, and Lucy is on the hunt for her lipstick. I don’t have an issue waiting for her to find it, but it is a bit odd that she suddenly wants to make sure her lipstick is perfect before getting out of the car when it was getting smeared across her face on our first date. She ended up wiping it off during one of her several bathroom trips.

She’s also been super chatty and touchy-feely, which hasn’t been the case the past two dates.

Does this mean she’s getting comfortable with me? She’s definitely more like the woman I met at Hadley’s wedding. Maybe it’s because I cleared the air about my title. Maybe she thought she had to act differently since I wasn’t being truthful with her right off the bat.

Who knows?

I need to enjoy this date without overthinking things and comparing each date we go on. I like this woman, no doubt, and I should focus on that. Learn to love and accept all sides of who she is—even the kind of annoying, overly girly side of her.

“Aha!” She plucks a small, black tube out of the massive bag and flips the visor down to apply the soft pink color. Watching the stick sweep across her bottom lip stirs desire in my gut.

I’m going to kiss the girl by the end of the night. Got that, Sebastian? I think as the tune to the red crab’s song flickers to life in my head.

Hopefully… If she lets me. She has touched me a lot tonight. Plus, we held hands almost the entire two hour drive. I didn’t feel that special zing I’ve grown accustomed to and felt when I touched her sister’s hand back in Juniper Grove. I chalked that up to the fact that they are twins. But that’s okay. At least my desperate need for physical touch is now getting met even if it’s a comfortable touch over a passionate touch.

“I’m ready,” she says with a grin, tossing the tube that took her three minutes to find back into the bag with a careless flick of the wrist. “Can’t leave without freshening up with my beloved Rarest Beauty lipstick. Do you like the color?”

She purses her newly-mauve lips, and the desire to kiss her dissipates. I miss the natural look on her already, though the color is pretty against her skin.

Lucy frowns, and I realize my own lips are sagging. Get it together, man.

I shake my head with a forced laugh. “You look great. Let’s get going. But please wait for me to get to your door. I don’t want any repeats of the last time I attempted chivalry on your behalf.” I take my first chance of the night and cup her face. She doesn’t move, her cheeks warming under my touch. Her face continues to warm; she’s red all over.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Your face…”

She pulls back and my hand falls. “Yeah, sorry. I blush with my whole face.”

Hm. I vividly remember a dusting of pink across her nose and her cheeks. Not her chin or her forehead.

Stop overthinking things, Finley. You always do that. Roll with it.

I get out of the car, walk around to open her door, and take her hand as I guide her out of the old, low-riding, blue mustang. I catch sight of Gabriel and Anders a few paces away, dressed in their black suits. I nod to them and interlace my fingers with Lucy’s.

Still no zing, but she doesn’t rip her hand from mine.

Instead, she squeezes my hand and leans into me with a broad, dazzling smile.

Something definitely changed over the past four days…

But thank goodness she’s letting me touch her now. I’m sure the zing will come once we find ourselves amidst the flowers and sweet smells and underneath the romantic lights as the sun continues to set.

We shuffle through the line and have our hands stamped to indicate we paid our entrance fee, then we exit through double doors that open up to a magnificent row of magnolia trees that create the path to the opening of the gardens. The floral smell at sunset is captivating.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Lucy remarks. She’s looking up the tall trees, her eyes bright with excitement. Today, I noticed earlier, they are more on the green side like I remember from the wedding. There’s no trace of the hazel-blue I’ve come to know recently.

“Yes, you are.” I squeeze her hand as she snaps her gaze to me, her smile somehow widening. She stands on her tiptoes and plants a quick kiss on my cheek, taking me by surprise.

“Sorry if that was forward of me.” She’s still smiling, but there’s a caution to it now, mostly likely due to my stunned expression. “I don’t tend to hold back when I want something.” I swear she mumbles “or someone” under her breath.

“No, no. Don’t be. I was just surprised, that’s all.” I rub the back of my neck with the hand not holding Lucy’s. “You would hardly let me touch you on our past couple of dates, and you avoided my kiss. What changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Her smile diminishes, and she looks perplexed with her nose scrunching and eyebrows pinching together. Yet another expression of hers that I don’t remember seeing over our time together. I must have a lot to learn about the multi-faceted Lucy Spence. I feel like I’m in an alternate universe.

And I really need to turn off my scrutinizing brain.

“Oh, um. I just, uh…” she trails off, looking anywhere but at me now. She snaps her fingers as if she just remembered. “That’s right. I needed time to warm up to you, that’s all. I feel more comfortable with you now that you’ve told me about your position.”

Ah, so I was right. “So, you’re saying I have free reign to touch you now, maybe even kiss you, since we are officially dating?” I smirk as her face reddens. But then she schools her expression and turns to face me, her free hand trailing up my arm.

I fully expect shivers to erupt through me, but there’s… nothing.

“Yes, Finley Andersson. You have free reign to touch me.” She stares into my eyes, a smoldering emerald. “And kiss me.”

She steps closer and drops my hand, opting instead to run her hand up my other arm.

Do I want this?

Right now?

Her arms loop around my neck, and every fiber of my body screams at me to back up.

So I listen, and I take a giant step back as Lucy’s arms remain outstretched towards me.

The woman I’ve fallen for sinks into a puddle of utter sadness and confusion, her arms finally collapsing to her side, her chin drooping.

I don’t know what came over me, but I have to fix this.

“Lucy.” I step towards her, but she still doesn’t look at me. I place two fingers underneath her tucked chin and lift her head until she’s meeting my eyes, a thousand questions rushing through her own. “I will kiss you. But please allow me to initiate our very first one.”

Though even as I make the promise, I’m still unsure if I’ll be able to. It doesn’t make a lick of sense. I was craving her lips on mine by the end of our first date.

She swallows, the bottom of her chin moving with the motion. I drop my hand and grin, trying to work through this unease.

“Okay,” is all she says. I lace my fingers through hers once more, and I guide us out of the treeline and into the first part of the gardens. Hundreds of various flowers and shrubs and trees sprout colorful and tall around the fountains and white fences and butterfly decor. The smell is intoxicating, a blend of sweet and stark spice, and I make a mental note to spruce up our royal garden when I return to Korsa for good. It could use a section devoted to chrysanthemums alone…

We walk in silence, Lucy only speaking up to compliment a flower on its beauty. Instead of calling them by their names, she simply uses the term “flower.” I try to engage her in conversation surrounding the history of Bellina Gardens (I spent a few hours doing a thorough search, mind you), but she only nods along and doesn’t add in any of her knowledge. Did she not look into this place, supposedly a place she’s been wanting to go to for a while? Weird.

Come to think of it, she didn’t engage me in conversation regarding history, philosophy, or law. She spoke up when I brought up Thomas Paine, but she went radio silent other than a few vague statements when I spoke about Aristotle, John Locke, and William Blackstone.

“Oh, look, Finley!” I follow her point to a bevy of swans in the nearby lake. “Swans are beautiful birds, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are. But do you hear their song? The term ‘swan song’ comes from the ancient Greeks. They believed that if you heard a certain song coming from a swan, it was about to die. Do you think their song is one of death?”

Lucy’s still gazing out on the white fowl, her eyes mesmerized. “I don’t know about death or the Greeks, but swans represent purity. Something I’ll never—” She cuts herself off, a certain despondency seeping into her expression as her eyes fall to the ground. After a fleeting second, she meets my eyes and smiles softly. “Do you want to go down to the lake?”

“That would be lovely.”

As we begin our walk down the stoned pathway, Lucy lightens and begins to talk about her books. She’s going on about fantasy creatures and a genre called urban romantasy and different plot lines and how she plans to make every book she ever writes tie together in some way. It’s truly fascinating to get a glimpse into her brain like this as I know a writer’s stories are highly personal, but I can’t keep up because it’s a lot of information thrown at me at once at high speed.

“What do you think about that idea?” she asks, and I redden in the face because I have no clue what she’s referring to. Was it a pirate? A vampire? Maybe something about a ghost…

“I, uh…” I drift sheepishly as I watch her physically deflate. My heart pinches, and I decide honesty is the best policy. “I’m sorry. I was trying to keep up but it was a lot and I kind of got lost in thinking about how it was a lot. I’m not huge into fiction. I prefer nonfiction.”

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes, her nose scrunching up as she evaluates me. Yes, she looks me up and down like she’s making a judgment call at this very moment. Then, she chuckles as she fiddles with her hair, leading us down to the lake in silence.

What’s going on with her today? It’s as if she’s reverted back to the woman I met in December, but I had already started falling for and entertaining the differences I’ve noticed in her—the stimulating conversation, her muted character (and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way by any means), and her soft but straightforward speech. During those few moments back at her apartment, when I made eye contact with her sister, all those feelings surfaced, and—

Wait.

Have I been…? Can I ask that question?

Am I on a date with the wrong twin?

The question bounces around my brain like a racquetball, and I find myself auditing everything about this woman I’m out with—the bangs, the bounce in her step, the full-face blush. She didn’t engage in conversation about the history of this place or about the random swan facts. Granted, she could have truly not known, but I don’t necessarily believe that Lucy wouldn’t have at least shown piqued interest.

Suddenly, it’s clear. I think I’m on a date with Lorelei, but I can’t fathom why Lucy would send her in her place. Maybe to test me? But that seems out of character for Lucy. I hope she wouldn’t do that to me. The twin I spoke with before I left started on a tangent about how the American judicial system was off-kilter due to many people being falsely accused. That was a very Lucy thing to say.

Oh no.

I think I’m on a date with the wrong twin. Unless they are both that way…

We walk around in silence for a few minutes, winding down the path to the lakes before we come across a splatter of chrysanthemums. Here’s a good chance. The real Lucy would know all about and would want to talk about her favorite flowers. “Look, Lucy. Your favorite.”

She follows my gaze and smiles. “Yep. Sure is.” Her voice isn’t as animated as I thought it would be. In fact, she sounds agitated. But I press on.

“Could you remind me of the history of the meanings behind each of the colors and how different cultures perceive them?” That should get her talking if it is the real Lucy.

She releases my hand and nears the flowers, lightly touching the stem, tracing her finger to the red petals. “They symbolize… love.”

The inflection in her voice indicates a question, but she said it as a statement. Strange. “And?” I prompt, attempting to get her swept away into her element. Please don’t let my assumption be correct…

“And…” she tapers off, still gently caressing the flowers. Suddenly, a dumbfounded look flashes across her face. “And…”

Lucy drops her hand, balling it into a fist at her side. She squares her shoulders as she turns to face me. Her lips are pressed into a tight line, an expression I am all too familiar with when it comes to her. This is Lucy.

Oh, no. This is the real Lucy, and she’s going to break up with me because I’m pushing too far and acting too weird in my apprehensions.

I’m going to have to start this search all over, and quite frankly, I don’t want to. I want Lucy, even if she has this alternate side to her. I want her brain. I want her zing. I want her heart. I want her lips… I should have let her kiss me.

“We need to talk.”

Those dreaded four words pierce through my soul like the legendary Svaard aav Dood, a mystical sword in Korsan mythology that never left a soul it pierced still breathing. It was instant death.

“I’m sorry!” I blurt. “Kiss me.”

As soon as I lean in, she steps away, her hand splaying across my chest as she strikes her arm out to keep distance.

Then she laughs…

Laughs!

“Seriously, Finley. We need to chat first.”

Left feeling confused and unsure of what in the world is going on, I do all I can right now, and that’s follow her lead down the remainder of the stone path until we are seated on a white bench overlooking the lakes with the swans, singing a song of what I’m sure is my impending death.

After a treacherous moment, she looks at me with a sad smile and says, “My name is Lucy May Spence.”

“I know. I—”

She places a hand on my thigh like it’s the most familiar, comforting touch she can muster. “Hold on. Yes, I am Lucy May Spence, but the woman you went out with that first night, and again after church, was my twin, Lorelei Raine Spence.”

She pauses, gauging my reaction I presume. But her words are still tumbling over me, and I’m trying to make sense of it. So this whole time, I’ve been falling for Lorelei, not Lucy? And I actually am on a date with Lucy? Not Lorelei like I briefly surmised? I’m definitely in some alternate universe…

After a deep breath, she spews everything out. “I sent her that first night in my place because I had received a black eye from a kid bouncing a tennis ball off a wall while I was at work. I am the event coordinator and stand-in assistant director at Juniper Grove Community Center, a job I only work because I’m a small-scale independent romance author. I haven’t made it big yet, which is my goal, so I work odd jobs. I thankfully landed this one, a bit more long-term, but it’s not what I want to be doing. I’m not as successful as my sister, I’m not as booksmart as she is, and I’m not as put together. I’m kind of a mess, a hopeless romantic, and well, not who you think I am.”

I don’t respond, mostly because I’m processing everything she’s telling me. The woman I’m sitting next to is Lucy, but the woman I’ve fallen for is her sister, Lorelei. Logically, piecing together all the discrepancies, it makes sense. Even their names correlate to their personalities. Lucy is a fun, flirty name while Lorelei is structured and calm. There are so many differences between the two, but I let the fact that they look the same distract me. I can’t even be mad… If I had a twin, it’s a prank I would pull.

But then again, this wasn’t some prank, I do need a wife, and the one thing that tops it all, I’m enamored with Lorelei.

The woman I’ve been eyeing and desiring this whole time might not even be into me. Because that’s the feeling I gathered from Lorelei.

Now that’s laughable.

And I do. I laugh, which prompts Lucy to do the same. We laugh until we are both doubled over with tears pulling from our eyes. Every time we attempt to stop, we glance at each other, and laugh again.

“I can’t believe it took me as long as it did to figure it out.”

She laughs some more. “Really? You think less than a week is a long time? We’ve tricked people who have grown up with us for much longer. You’re perceptive, Finley.”

As if that sobered her, she straightens and pegs me with a stern expression. “I’ve already caught the vibe of this date, and it was geared towards my sister. And to be honest, I think you are more into her than you are me. Plus, I don’t think I’m as into you as much as I was into the idea of Queen Lucy May Spence. I don’t want to talk about history and random facts. I want someone who can keep up with my book rambles and preferably enjoys fiction. Heck, I want to be free to initiate contact with a man without feeling like I’m some harlot attempting to steal your virtue.” She gives me a sly glance.

I cringe. She’s right, but I don’t want to hurt Lucy. “I’ve gotten to know her, yes. And I have geared this date towards her because I thought that was who I would be with. I don’t know you that well yet, Lucy. I could, though…” Even as I say the words, I know they aren’t true. I want Lorelei.

Lucy must recognize that. “As much as I want to be a queen—RIP to my ultimate fantasy—I desire my sister’s happiness more. I already had the feeling that you were into who she truly is as she recapped your dates to me, but today verified it. You keep wanting me to be her, and I keep trying, but I’m not. And I’m okay with that.”

I place my hand over hers. Still no zing, which oddly enough, is everything I need to know. “As you should be. You are a lovely woman. I was instantly captivated by you at the wedding, but that was before I realized I would need to marry and that I was ascending the throne.”

“Oof. So I’m not wifey material. I get that.”

I backtrack. “No, Lucy. That’s not what I meant, it’s just that—”

She cuts me off, and I still feel awful for making that statement.

“It’s okay. Truly. Personally, and it pains me to admit, but if one of us has to be a queen and rule over a country, she is much better equipped than I am. I like the glamor of the idea, but she has the functionality to be a wonderful head of state.”

While Lucy does sound confident in her decision, there is the undertone of sadness that is hard to miss. Whereas Lorelei hides her emotions, Lucy wears them on her sleeve. I understand why people are more drawn to Lucy, though. Lorelei’s difficult to read, which scares people.

But not me.

She’s going to become my favorite book. One that I read over and over.

“Lucy, you are wifey material, just not my wife. Don’t ever let someone make you believe that you aren’t.” I squeeze her hand then remove mine. She follows suit, our touch effectively ending. “Being queen is hard. It involves a lot of wordplay, decisions, and a special touch of kindness and consideration.”

“Which my sister has,” Lucy says with a firm smile.

“She does. I think she’d make an excellent queen, but furthermore, I think she balances me out.” I chuckle. “If you and I were a couple, we’d end up vacationing and gallivanting the world in pursuit of the next great thing. But Lorelei? She will ground me.”

That elicits a genuine smile from Lucy. “You’re right. I did catch the vibe that we could be good friends.”

“Maybe even closer. Let’s see… You could be my sister-in-law?”

She hops to her feet, a new energy radiating through her. She’s like the sun whereas Lorelei is like the moon. Two suns would burn the world, but a sun balanced with a moon will create a beautiful peace that sets the world into perfect time.

“I accept my position as sister-in-law to the future king of Korsa. You are my future king-in-law.” She waggles her brows. “Now, let’s finish this date while I give you the rundown on all things Lorelei Raine Spence. If you truly want her, prepare yourself for the hardest chase of your life.”

A shutter sound echoes from somewhere behind us, followed by a hissed curse. I snap my head around and notice a hooded figure already on the run with my PPOs in pursuit.

Grasping Lucy’s forearm and peering into her eyes, I command in my royal voice, “Lucy, stay here. I’ve got to catch this man.”

I hear her calling after me as I bolt, using every inch of my long legs to stride up the stone path after the stalker. My PPOs come into view; they are gaining on the figure. But right as Gabriel reaches to grab him, the perp cuts left and hurdles over a bush line. Anders cuts after him as Gabriel catches his balance and curses.

“Finley, halt pursuit!” Gabriel yells even as I clear the bush Anders and the stalker did moments ago. Suddenly, arms are wrapping around my torso as I’m thrown to the ground. Instead of landing on the dirt and grass, I land in a tangle on Gabriel, who groans curses underneath me.

“Respectfully, Your Highness. Get off of me,” Gabriel grunts.

I stand on wobbling legs, my chest still aching from where I connected with Gabriel’s shoulder and my breath heavy. I run and lift every morning, but the sudden burst of energy without a warm-up is taking its toll.

Gabriel’s on his feet quicker than I was and is scanning the area, muttering into his earpiece how he lost the chase due to me getting in the way. Grass is speckled throughout his dark blond hair, his suit disheveled.

“I could have helped, Gabriel. Why did you stop me?”

He sighs. “In case you have forgotten, my top priority is you. I can’t have you chasing after potentially dangerous stalkers.”

“What in the—” Lucy’s voice raises to new heights as she comes to a breathy stop in front of me and Gabriel. “What happened? Why was I forced to run?”

“I told you to stay put,” I bark in concerned frustration, but then I bring my voice down. It’s better she’s here with me and the guys. “The stalker showed up.”

Her dropped jaw and breathless “what?” remind me that I’ve never told her sister about this, much less her. “He’s been sniping pictures of me and sending them to my mother since the first date with you, or, Lorelei, I should say. He showed up when we were at Books and Beans, too.” I briefly recall the shadowed figure who passed outside our window as the rain began to pour.

Lucy runs her fingers through frizzed waves. “That’s something we should talk about on our way back to Juniper Grove. I’d like for my twin to be safe when she’s with you. Is your other PPO okay going to search alone? Should we help find him?”

“He’s on his way back. Stalker got away again,” Gabriel says and curses in French.

Guilt pricks at the edges of my thought, but I shove it down. “I wanted to protect Lucy. Make sure nothing happened to her because of me,” I clarify to Gabriel before I turn to Lucy. “And I swear on my title that I will never let anyone so much as touch a flyaway hair on your sister’s head.”

“Literal swoon.” Lucy makes the motion of fainting and laughs. “At least I know my sister is in good hands. You run fast, future king-in-law.”

“I understand, Your Highness. And we all admire your protective nature. But we are here to protect you.” Gabriel plucks grass from my hair. “Are you injured?”

“No,” I sigh. “But let’s wait for Anders. I want to finish this evening. I have things to discuss with Lucy.”

Though I know it will be hard to focus after this. I make a mental note to call my father on the way home and discuss this situation with him. Until then, I need to learn how to win the right twin to my heart.

And probably take my PPOs out to a nice dinner on the way home.

Lucy tugs on my shirt, pulling me close. She whispers, “Can you set me up with him?” I follow her gaze to Gabriel, who is stalking away towards Anders. “I kind of like them grumpy.”