The Designated Twin

16. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Lorelei

Ialmost became an only child this morning.

When Lucy snatched my phone out of my hand to reply to Finley, I croaked. Stupid me for asking my bold, romance-loving, senseless twin for advice.

As if I wasn’t tired enough from waiting up for Lucy to return home, Finley just had to go and state his intentions (ahem—date for marriage!!!) towards me. He just had to present me with a perfect flower crown that I couldn’t even enjoy because hypoglycemia had to attack. And finally, Crown Prince Finley Andersson just had to make not one, not two, but three appearances in the short few hours I actually got some shut-eye last night.

So when he messaged me this morning, I was groggy, confused, and experiencing a feeling I don’t think I’ve ever known before, especially after reading he apparently wants kids. When I described the lightness in my bones and the cloudiness of my head and the irrational beating of my heart after reading his text, Lucy emphatically informed me that I was falling in love.

Love.

I told her people shouldn’t fall in love. That love should be comfort and safety and peace. Not this… weak-in-the-bones, racing heart, cloudy head confusing mess.

She smirked and told me that people stumble into love in all sorts of ways. Sometimes it's calm, collected, and sure, but sometimes it’s hot, messy, and leaves your head spinning.

I’d picked option number one, but she said I didn’t get a choice.

But that’s beside the point.

I’m not falling in love with Finley Andersson.

No matter what type of love it looks like.

I’m simply confused; the man who was supposed to date my twin popped into my home and proposed to me. What was with that? Who does that? He doesn’t know me well enough to want to marry me. We’ve had two dates, and he believed I was my sister! Crazy man.

My sister preyed upon my confusion and told Finley that I’d love to have kids someday and that I would meet him tomorrow for lunch.

Which I most certainly did not agree to.

“Everything okay, Lorelei? You’ve been grimacing at your computer for the past thirty seconds.”

I startle at the voice as Mr. Austen lightly closes my office door.

“Sorry, sir. I’m fine. Just…” What do I even tell him? I know I shouldn’t talk about personal things with my boss, but I also don’t like lying. And we’ve talked about plenty of other personal things like his past and my autism.

“Just what? You can talk to me.” He sits down, tugging at the excess pant material on his thigh before crossing a leg.

“Well, um…” How do I even begin? “My sister’s date asked me to date him with marriage in mind last night. And then I almost fainted.” He blinks with long, light orange eyelashes. “Because I had a hypoglycemic episode. Not because of him,” I quickly add. Though, I’m not sure if his proposal of sorts wouldn’t have warranted the same reaction.

“That’s…” Mr. Austen grins. “Something.”

When he chuckles under his breath, I join him, the release of the pent-up worries and concerns washing away with every breathy laugh. Eventually, I say, “That’s an understatement.”

His eyebrows almost touch. “Did your sister know about this?”

I nod. “Oh, yeah. It seems she was in on it. At least, that’s what she told me last night after he left. She said they were not compatible but she thought I would be. And that he liked me a lot.”

Me.

“Hm. Tell me more.”

So I do. I spill my guts to my boss in my office because there is no way I can talk to Hadley or Lucy or my parents about this. Maybe my parents, but they would let something slip when chatting to Lucy.

Because apparently there is something to slip, judging by Mr. Austen’s next words…

“You like this man,” he says plainly. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He leans back in the chair.

“Yes.” I process, thinking over my next words, trying to be as accurate as possible. “I do like him. As a friend. He’s intelligent, kind, and funny. But there are many people in this world with those same qualities. Why should I jump into a relationship with someone simply because they measure up to at least a quarter of the population?”

“Well,” Mr. Austen drums his fingers on his bent knee, “I think that’s what relationships are for, Lorelei. When I met my wife eleven years ago, I was instantly swept away in her beauty. As I began to talk with her, I realized she was kind, witty, smart, loving, and caring.” He pauses and nods towards me. “Qualities many possess, as you’ve stated.”

“So how did you know dating her was the right thing to do?”

Mr. Austen’s eyes glaze over as if he’s been transported back in time to the happiest of memories. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I didn’t. I took a shot. I asked her out on a date. I liked it and had fun. So I asked her for another one. We dated for three years while I was in college. Before I knew it, I was down on one knee asking to date her for the rest of my life. Those few days married to her were the best of my life.”

The love in his voice for which he speaks of his deceased wife is nothing short of inspiring. But also… devastating. He spent a few short days married to that woman before God took her away from him. My stomach clenches at the thought of losing someone I love, especially after a short amount of time with them when I was expecting forever.

That’s another thing that scares me… completely devoting myself to one man for the rest of my life, only to have his life end way before mine.

How does a woman crawl out of the dark depths that would be left in his absence? How did Mr. Austen do it? It must have been such a painful journey for him, one that he constantly revisits, I’m sure.

“I don’t know if I have ever told you this, but you inspire me, Mr. Austen. Not only as my boss but also as someone I can faithfully look up to and trust.”

He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. “Thanks, Lorelei. You are a wonderful employee. And as much as I would not want to lose you to a different country, I have the inkling you should give this Finley a chance. From what you’ve told me, he seems sincere. And you’ll never know if you should date him unless you do. Unless you give him a chance. Unless you allow him the time to show you how set apart from the rest of the men of this world he is.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I joke, but in reality, my stomach is clenching for another reason: If… a huge IF… I was to get serious with Finley. IF I ended up marrying him, I would have to leave Donwell Law Firm. I would have to leave Juniper Grove and my friends and my…

No.

I can’t leave Lucy alone here. She needs me.

I school a neutral expression and say, “Thank you so much for the advice and for listening, Mr. Austen. I’m going to take what you’ve said into consideration and pray over it.”

Pray over it.

Will I end up praying for God to remove me from this whole situation or will I actually pray for His will to be done? My boss wasn’t wrong. I like Finley Andersson. That much is perfectly clear now. But I think it’s just as a friend. Sure, he’s got wonderful qualities. And he’s handsome.

But I can’t date him.

I can’t be taken away from my home and family.

The answer is absolutely not.

This is a quality I was not expecting from Crown Prince Finley Andersson…

“Lorelei! Will you kill it already?! Quit toying around.”

I glance from the black dot on the floor up to the café chair where a crouching prince resides. Snickers float around us from our unintended audience as we stand on our unintended stage, but Finley pays them no mind. His rounded blue eyes are glued to the now-moving nickel-sized spider on the floor.

“It’s a spider, Finley. A living creature made with a purpose. I am not going to kill it.”

“My heart is going to detonate, Leilei. Get rid of it!”

I roll my lips into my mouth to hide the grin wanting to break free. For starters, why is this masculine, regal prince standing on a chair, his chest heaving with anxious breaths, over a little spider? It’s not even big and furry. But secondly, he called me Leilei, pronounced “lay-lay”, something he has taken to since he met me outside Books and Beans this afternoon and held the door open for me to walk through.

No one has ever given me a nickname other than “Lor.” And that has almost felt like a lazy way to not say my whole name.

Maybe “Leilei” could be classified as the same, but to me, it feels like he softened the sharpness of my name. Almost as if I was given permission to simply breathe and exist without having to be in control.

Except now I am in control.

In control of getting Sir Spider out of Finley’s keen sight so that both can live long, stress-free lives apart from each other.

Finally squatting down, I use the plastic cup the barista, Emma Jane, gave me (she, too, is not a fan of spiders) and a napkin to sweep the innocent little thing into its temporary trap. Walking the distance from our back corner table that Finley chose so as to not draw attention to us (he didn’t anticipate a tiny friend lurking in the corner), I set Sir Spider loose outside and bid him farewell and best wishes.

When I turn around after closing the door, the few people within the bookstore-slash-cafe applaud me. My face heats, and I scamper to the back corner where Finley now sits in the chair with his legs crossed, hands folded lazily in his lap as if wasn’t just fearing for his life over a black moving dot on the floor moments ago. Sitting down, I meet his eyes, and he looks away with pink-tinged cheeks.

“If you didn’t want to be embarrassed, then you should have simply avoided the spider.”

He looks at me incredulously and huffs. “Easy for you to say. Do you not understand the way my heart races, brain fries, and veins run hot when I see such a creature?” Then, he smirks. “Come to think of it, I do believe it is a similar response to when I see you. Do I fear you, or do I love you, Leilei?”

Now my heart races, my brain fries, and my veins run blistering hot. And it’s definitely fear, not love.

“You fear me,” I state, drawing on my sensibilities instead of allowing the haze of confusing emotions to take over. “I am not Lucy, who is sweet and lovely and soft, and you have your wires crossed thinking you love me. I came here to tell you that. Furthermore, I will jump straight to the point. I do not wish to be a princess or a queen, and I do not wish to move to Korsa. Yes, I find myself liking you, but nothing more is plausible.”

Finley blinks once. Unfolds his hands and rubs them on his navy pants. Then he blinks again.

Does he wear dress pants everywhere he goes? I don’t think I’ve seen him in anything less than. What does he look like lounging around his house? Does he opt for holey shirts and baggy sweats like I do?

Not yours to think about, Lorelei.

“Let’s talk about how you are finding yourself liking me. Can you elaborate?” Finley uncrosses his legs and places his folded hands on top of the table, leaning in.

“You are kind, intelligent, and… nice. I find your company enjoyable and your brain fascinating.”

Finley doesn’t respond, and I worry I spoke too honestly. But then, he smiles ear to ear and says, “So you do want to date me, but you are wholly committed to not leaving Juniper Grove. Therefore, you won’t date me. Did I get that correct?”

My neck heats, and I sip the chai tea that has cooled from the amount of time it took me to make my spider rescue earlier. I appreciate the way Finley is verifying my words before making assumptions. “Can I speak honestly?”

“I’d have you speak no other way, Leilei.”

I set the light blue, rounded mug down. After inhaling, I close my eyes and say, “I’ve never dated a man before. I am clueless about the process. I’ve watched my sister and our friends date, but I’m fearful. I don’t want to mess up. I don’t want to fall in love. I don’t want to leave my home, family, friends, and job. I like you as a person, yes. I could see our brains connecting well. But I can’t see you standing side by side with a woman like me. I am… inexperienced. You are not. I am a small town homebody. You are a traversing crown prince. I like peace and quiet and plants and cats. You like adventure and flirting and shenanigans. We do not make sense, simply put. But we could be friends while you’re here.”

My shoulders droop as if everything I’ve needed to say has weaseled its way out of me. Finley sits unmoving across from me as Emma Jane quietly and quickly sets our sandwiches down. Though the silence is suffocating me, I manage a whispered “thank you” to Emma Jane before she departs.

Finley’s eyes roam from my bouncing leg, to my fidgeting hands, and finally, to my face. I believe he may be looking into the depths of my soul at this very moment, which causes the bounding leg to go double-time.

“Leilei, are you scared to date me because you are scared you will fall in love with me?” He tilts his head to the side and a wave of blond covers one of his mesmerizing blue eyes.

Yes. No? “And I don’t want to move.”

“So you are also scared you will want to move if you date me and fall in love with me?”

Dang this man. Dang him! He has no business taking my rambles and coherently presenting them back to me with such ease and clarity.

“Yes, Finley!” I recognize my rising voice and reel it back in. It’s not anger… Is it disbelief? Confusion around how he is reading me so well? “I’ve never been in love, and I’ve never had the desire to fall in love. I don’t want to be a tangle of emotions and passion only to fizzle to a painful, burnt end. I want safety, trust, security, and the feeling of home.”

Finley clears his throat, and I look anywhere but at him. The cracks in the wooden floor, the teens in the bookshelves across the building, the way the light filters through the Dragon Tree by the windows…

“Lorelei.”

How could I allow myself to say those things? Yes, he gave me permission to speak honestly, but did he really mean it? He must desire a whirlwind romance. Look at his past for crying out loud! I can’t compete with those women…

And mercy! When have I ever even entertained the thought of competing with a woman? I am in no competition. A man will want me as I am, or he will not want me at all. It’s perfectly okay that I don’t want to fall in love. I’m like the Dragon Tree plant. Tall, sword-like, and easy to care for. A plant, er, woman like me doesn’t need much. Too much would be overwhelming. Finley is…

“Leilei. Look at me.”

Finley’s pastel yellow shirt interrupts my admiration of the Dragon Tree.

“You’re too much for me, Finley. I need simple. You aren’t simple.” My eyes plead for him to understand, but instead, the man crouches and holds my fumbling hands firmly between his own, the touch simultaneously soothing and shocking me. He sets his jaw and blue fire rages in his eyes.

“I’m not going to try and persuade you here and now, but I do have to ask you this: If you truly believe there is something between us, would you please do me the honor of taking a risk and exploring it and testing me against your perceived notions? I gave you the hand-made gift and asked you to date me with serious intentions as is the custom of our country. I am dedicated to this. To pursuing you.”

Huh? That little show was a custom to ask someone out. Lucy must have loved helping him prepare that. It’ll end up in one of her romance books. That knowledge settles my nerves, but only a little bit.

Back to the topic at hand, though. “You have less than three months. I wouldn’t be ready to move anywhere in three months. You should focus on a girl who would… like my sister!”

“With all due respect, Lorelei, your sister is a lovely woman, but she is not the woman I desire. I desire you. I want you. I want your brain. I want your soul. I want your random facts. I want your shy glances. I want your individualism. I want your fears. I want your doubts. I want your weird.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I process his words. I search his body language for seedlings of error. He is crouched, grasping my hands, staring up at me as if I… as if I was already his world.

Too much, too much, too much, my mind echoes. The processor has reached its limit. If I were a cartoon, steam would be wafting upwards over my head.

“Can I have time to think it over?”

Finley smiles softly, though it doesn’t reach his ears this time. “Of course. I know this is not an easy request being who I am. I know on paper we are opposite in every way. But I want you to get to know me as you. Not as Lucy. I want to get to know you as you.” He brightens. “Why don’t we hang out tomorrow. We can go to the bookstore and go for a nature walk. Maybe we can visit an antebellum home.”

“Oh, we could go to tour Adeline’s Place. It’s supposedly haunted, but I don’t quite believe in that stuff.” Then what he’s doing hits me, and I narrow my eyes. “Hey. Unfair. Books, nature, and history…”

He waggles his brows, his lips turning upward. “I never said I would fight fair, Leilei.”

“If I say yes to this, do you promise it’s just as friends?” Darn man. Tugging on my weaknesses. This must be Lucy’s doing. How can I say no to books, nature, and antebellum homes?

“No, Lorelei. For the sake of not lying to you, I can’t tell you I will treat tomorrow as an outing of friends. But I can promise you that I will respect your boundaries. I want to get to know you better. I want you to get to know me better. Romance can come later.”

As I process, I take a sip of my tea, which has cooled to a temperature I no longer enjoy. He was honest with me. That’s respectable. And maybe if I go, he will realize that I’m not the right woman for him. Romantically.

Lucy’s words flitter back into my mind.

Sometimes love is unexplainable.

But while this might not be love, maybe the same applies to friendships, too. Maybe some souls are simply meant to be acquainted and befriended.

I evaluate him even though my processor is done…processing. His blue eyes are wide and pleading as he leans over the table towards me on his elbows. Blond hair frames the edges of his face, and I want to feel if it’s as silky as it looks. That’s a sensation I thoroughly enjoy.

He wants this, and maybe this is my ticket to shaking him.

“Okay. I’ll go. But I’m viewing this as an outing with a friend. Thank you for your honesty.”

The biggest smile overcomes his face as he steeples his hands under his chin. He looks… calculating? Mischievous?

“I’m ecstatic to hear that answer from you, Leilei. I’ll pick you up at five.” He grows solemn. “I know we are supposed to have this meal, and I don’t want to ask this question, but do you need some space to process everything alone?”

My heart stops. No one outside of my sister and Hadley has ever asked me that before… has never seen the need.

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind. I would actually like that very much.”

He closes his eyes slowly and nods, inhaling softly before opening his eyes. “I figured as much. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

As he grabs his sandwich from the plate and walks away, I shout, “Thank you, Finley! See you tomorrow.”

He waves while wearing an expression that looks halfway despondent and halfway hopeful before turning on his heel and leaving. Two men in black suits follow at a distance, and I realize those must be his protection officers. Will they come with us tomorrow?

I’m going out on the town with a man I’ve known for two weeks. A man who wants to date me. I gulp. Marry me.

What have I gotten myself into? Why did I agree to this?

It’s not a date. It’s not a date. It’s not a date. Just an outing among friends.

My brain conjures all the reasons I should text him and say nevermind. He’s a prince. A crown prince. He will be king within a year. He wants to date me with intentions. He will move me to Korsa. He will take me away from my comfort.

And somewhere in the depths of the chaos and confusion of rivaling emotions and logic, a whisper. He sees you. He wants you for you. He is giving you space and time. He believes you are good for him. He validates your fears. He is willing to prove himself. He knows you well enough already to reel you in with books, history, and nature walks.

Lucy would have been putty in his hands had he said those words to her, but I’m not Lucy. I’m confused. I like him, but I can’t leave this place. I’m a rooted plant. He seems so good and so honest, but those headlines about the Prince of Hearts stir suspicion. He’s a flirt, and I’m not sure I completely understand the concept. He may love me, and I don’t know if I fully comprehend what it truly means to love someone in such a romantic capacity…

“Is everything okay, Lor?” Emma Jane waves a hand in front of my face, which is still turned towards the door Finley walked out of while biting his sandwich moments ago. He saw I needed space and time, and he gave it to me.

Is being comfortable enough to say yes to an evening with him in town a sign that I do like him? Or that I could? Or that I could possibly…

“Yes, EJ. I think so.” I fragilely smile at the waitress who is a couple of years younger than me. She called me Lucy when we first arrived, and I corrected her to Lorelei, and now she’s positively beaming at the idea I’m here as myself with Finley. I wonder… Would it be weird to ask her…?

“What do you think love truly is? And how do you know if you have the potential for it?”

I slap my hand over my mouth, blaming Finley and his desire for me to be honest for the fact that I’m asking Emma Jane such a question.

But to my surprise, she smiles and sits down where Finley once resided. “Oh, Lorelei! This is my favorite subject. You know I want to be a matchmaker, right?” And then she launches into a spiel on how love is security and trust and safety, but she says it is also magic and connection and unknowns.

I leave forty-five minutes later with a lot of information to process, confusing emotions to sort through, completely people-d out, and…

And the tiniest seedling thought that maybe I should give Finley one date. Maybe I should state that tomorrow is a date.

After one real date with me, I’m sure he will change his mind and want to find someone more flirty, experienced, and fun. Then he goes on his merry way and I settle back into my routine.

No one’s hurt. I get a fun evening. (Yes, an actual fun evening filled with things I enjoy.) He gets to see firsthand how wrong I am for him.

A win-win.

Though my heart silently cries that if he does walk away from me, I might not feel like the winner.