Chapter 39
Sophie
I’ve never worn a dress that made me feel so beautiful.
It even feels beautiful. “I like it,” I whisper, my hands stroking the skirt.
Ashton smirks. “I knew you would.”
“You’re very good at this shopping thing.”
“Oh, I know.” His smirk turns to smugness, but this time I smile at the sight. Because if he found the dress that makes me feel like this, he’s very, very good at this shopping thing.
I have never been.
I went shopping with my mother to look for a bridesmaid dress for her second wedding and ended up with a flowered monstrosity with a huge butt bow, because Mom thought it suitable for a spring wedding.
I went shopping with Stella for a prom dress, and came out with the most basic of basic black dresses.
Stella knows me better than anyone, and she shied away from colours and patterns. For the longest time, I thought it was because I wouldn’t look good in dresses like that, but now I know it’s only because Stella only relates to black dresses. She’s afraid of colour.
My mother was afraid of being upstaged by her daughters. I know that now, too.
Just like I know I was born to wear this dress.
Behind me, Ashton rests his hands on my shoulders. I stare at our reflection. “I like it.”
“You look incredible,” he says in a low voice.
“Incredible?” I whisper.
“Amazing,” he clarifies.
I do. I do look incredible and amazing, and suddenly very, very pretty, but it still feels surreal. How could it be that it took Ashton Carrington to bring out this side of me?
“Why are you so nice to me?”
Ashton lifts his shoulder in another graceful shrug. Such a masculine man shouldn’t be allowed to make such a move.
It’s not fair. He thinks I can dance with broken toes. Maybe he can because he’s graceful and smooth and beautiful—
He called me amazing. Incredible.
He wants to dance with me. He kissed me… and right now, it looks like he’s about to do it again. Right in front of everyone.
I’d be the talk of the town once everyone knows that I was caught kissing Ashton Carrington in the change room at Arthur’s Attire.
I don’t think I’d mind one bit.
How did this happen?
Ashton has been in Laandia for weeks. Over the years, he’s visited so often, staying with Gunnar at the castle, with Fenella, and now Basher, but the visits were short. He never stayed for longer than a week.
So why now? Why now, only after the accident…
I stare at his reflection, like I’m seeing him for the first time.
The jacket, made from soft-as-butter leather. The cashmere sweater that would cost more than anything in this store.
Every one of my dresses has come from Arthur’s, whereas Ashton has shopped throughout the world. Because Ashton Carrington is a billionaire.
He can buy anything he wants.
He can have anything he wants. Anyone.
So, why me?
It clicks into place then, like the tumblers in a lock stopping the key from turning, and my smile fades.
“Sophie?” Ashton asks, a new worry in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Why are you so nice to me?” I repeat, studying his face in case I can read the truth in his expression. Because the truth is there, and I don’t think Ashton will be able to tell me.
“Because… I’m nice,” he offers, trying to sound like he’s joking.
“But you’re not,” I decide. “I mean, you are, but only when you let someone get to know you. Why me?”
“Sophie…”
It’s the way he says my name, and I know.
“You think I’m going to charge you,” I say slowly. “The accident. You think…”
I don’t need to finish the thought. And Ashton doesn’t have to say anything. Guilt is written all over his face, a new expression that I’m not used to seeing.
“You think I’m going to charge you,” I repeat. “And that you’re going to lose your license, and your race cars. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you stayed. That’s why you’re spending so much time with me.”
“Sophie…”
“That’s the only reason. You don’t like me. You’re not interested in me. Oh, my god.” I cover my face with my hands, not caring that there is an audience, and this will spread through Battle Harbour quicker than if Ashton and I were caught kissing.
All the things I told him. All the things I said.
I kissed him.
I kissed him because I thought… maybe…
How stupid could I be?
But there’s no sense getting upset about it. I knew all along that was too good to be true. Ashton Carrington could never be interested. Ashton Carrington and me—that’s not possible.
If I couldn’t get Martin to like me, how could I ever think that was possible with Ashton?
Something closes inside me. A door that has been creeping open for the last few weeks, that Ashton has pushed open. I hear it lock, the tumblers clicking with a finality that must have been inevitable.
I stand up straight, and give myself a little shake. The fitting room has emptied, and I can’t tell if those who were out here have left or are hiding in the cubicles.
“I think I’m tired,” I say quietly, turning away from our reflection in the mirror. Of Ashton Carrington, billionaire, standing with Sophie Laz.
Who is completely out of his league.
“I might go back to the castle.” I take a halting step back to the cubicle, to get out of this dress.
This dress, this fashion creation that looks so perfect. The colour and the fit and the style…
This dress, that shows me that I’m not. I’m nowhere near perfect for Ashton.
And I’m an idiot for thinking I ever had a chance.
“Sophie…”
Ashton hasn’t said anything, but what is there to say? I’m right. I know I am.
It was most likely his father who had the idea to befriend me to ensure I wouldn’t cause a scandal that would paint the family in a bad light. It must have been his father… but Ashton would have gone along with it.
Did Fenella know? Gunnar? Did everyone know what Ashton was doing with me? They must have—it would have been the only reasonable excuse for why he was spending so much time with me.
What must the text messages among his friends have been like?
I take another step, and the skirt of the dress tangles around my ankles. Ashton steps forward to help, but I brush him off.
I can’t have him touch me. Not now, not ever. “I think I might go back to the castle by myself,” I manage to say.
I will not cry. I will not let him see that I’m upset. I will not…
“You know, I don’t think you even hit me with the car,” I tell him.
A glance over my shoulder shows Ashton, blue eyes full of confusion…
and what might be remorse, if he could feel such a thing.
“I would have been bruised or… I think I broke things when I fell and you… you did nothing wrong. All this was for nothing.”
“Sophie. Stop.”
I don’t stop. I manage to get into the cubicle and shut the door in his face.
When I get out, Ashton is gone.