Chapter 43
Sophie
The town hall is awash in Winter Wonderland. There are snowflakes everywhere, inside and out.
Odd, since it’s a celebration of the sea queen that has protected the East Coast since the Vikings. At least, I think that’s how the story goes.
As well as the plethora of snowflakes, the walls are covered by paper mache waves, whipped into a frenzy. There is silver everywhere. There are disco balls.
They pulled out every decoration possible to hide the tired ballroom in the town hall.
I suspect my mother runs the decorating committee—like she does so many other social committees—since I know she favours silver.
Proof? Her dress tonight matches the disco ball.
I haven’t seen much of her in the last few weeks, thanks to the protection of staying at the castle.
Not that I need protection from my mother, but she can be a bit much.
And since I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how she cut both Stella and me off from the royal family, I’m not looking forward to the usual small talk with her that is necessary at events like this.
The pointed questions and comments designed to make me feel like an outlined version of myself, one that is missing my colour.
I love my mother, and as the mayor’s wife, she does a great job of organizing events like this, but like I said, she can be a bit much.
Before Queen Selena died, the party used to be at the castle. There was also a Christmas party as well, but I wasn’t allowed to go.
I’ve heard rumbling that it might happen again next year.
Kate arrives at the dance with me, for moral support more than anything.
When I step in the door, and shrug off my warm winter coat, I feel like all eyes are on me.
“Everyone is looking at you,” Kate confirms with an excited squeeze of my arm.
“It’s the dress,” I tell.
“It’s some dress.”
I am glad Ashton bought it, because I would hate to have lost it to someone else. Seeing another woman wearing it here tonight, would have been like seeing a still-loved ex dancing with a new love.
I love my dress, and I still feel beautiful wearing it, despite everything.
Kate did my hair, whipping my waves into a cascade of curls that tumble over my shoulders. Fern did my makeup—yes, I got ready with Fern and Kate, with Lyra showing up at the last minute because her plane was delayed.
Lyra is here with my brother Spencer, and my eyes have never looked better. I can say a lot about Fern, but she does have talent with a makeup brush.
When I step out onto the dance floor, I’m surrounded, hit with questions and well wishes, and my cousin had a broken leg and never recovered and now she’s walking with a limp, stories.
It’s a lot to take in right away, and Kate, bless her heart, slowly manoeuvres me over to the bar.
“You don’t have to be my babysitter tonight,” I remind her as we order glasses of white wine.
“Maybe I like being your babysitter,” she says with a grin.
Kate is stunning in basic black, but there is nothing simple about her strapless dress that puddles on the floor behind her. She’s working tonight, like always, keeping an eye on all of the royal family just in case of any faux pas, or drama to settle.
I don’t think she is paid enough.
“I’m okay being by myself,” I tell her. “You should find someone to dance with. Maybe Patrick showed up after all.”
“I don’t think he made it, but that’s okay, because I didn’t invite him.”
I invited Ashton, and I don’t see him anywhere.
I can’t even stop telling myself to stop thinking about him, because I need to think about him, because I’ll be seeing him any minute.
And I don’t know what to say to him. Or what to think about seeing him. Or anything right now.
“You don’t need to be by yourself,” Kate reminds me. She waves to someone behind me. “I don’t know why you didn’t let Ashton take you to the dance. He would’ve been a great partner and you look good together.”
I didn’t tell Kate why I’m not with him tonight.
I didn’t tell anyone, part of an ingrained personality trait that refuses to say anything that might make anyone look bad.
I need to get over that. I don’t have to be nice all the time.
But still, I don’t intend to say anything.
Good intentions don’t always make sense, though. “Apparently, he only started hanging out with me so I wouldn’t charge him with vehicular accidentally hitting a person, or something like that.”
It’s a surprise when the words bubble out of my mouth.
I hadn’t planned on telling anyone, but I suddenly need to see the reaction of saying it out loud.
And if I can’t tell Kate, I don’t know who I can tell.
She blinks. The lines appear between her eyes. “No.”
“He didn’t deny it. Plus, Fenella confirmed it.”
I don’t know how I feel about the possibility of seeing Ashton, but I do know there’s still a pool of sadness in my heart about knowing I was only a means to an end with him.
“Maybe, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
I saw it too, and that’s the problem. I saw the way Ashton looked at me. I felt the way he kissed me, and if that was all pretend… “He’s a good actor,” I say, ruefully.
“I watched him on The Suitorette, and no, he’s not.”
That makes me laugh, and it feels so good to let the bubble of giddiness escape. “It’s a reality show,” I protest. “He shouldn’t be acting. He should be himself.”
“I doubt anyone on that show is being themselves. You saw Lyra! Since when is she that—” Kate waves her hand like she’s smoothing a table. “Level.”
I laugh again, and something in my chest loosens. “You have a point there.”
“Sophie?”
I turn, mid-laugh, which disappears when I see Martin behind me.
Martin, who, only weeks before, was all I could think about.
Now, I haven’t given him a thought in days. Weeks.
Ashton was good at something—he got me over an unreciprocated crush in record time.
“Hi,” I manage. Kate pokes me in the back because she has heard all about my infatuation with the art teacher.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Martin says. He looks nice in a black suit, his hair brushed off his forehead.
His receding hairline forehead. I never noticed that before.
Or the weak jaw line.
“I—yes, I decided to come. The toe is not perfect, but at least I’m upright.”
“I’m glad. I was upset when I heard about your accident. To think that Carrington was driving around like Battle Harbour was his own personal racetrack—”
“It wasn’t like that,” I correct him. “Ashton didn’t even hit me. I slid on the ice when I was crossing the road and that’s when I broke my toes. I was getting to my feet when he came around the corner. It actually would have been a lot worse if he hadn’t been such a good driver.”
Martin blinks, and his mouth tightens to an unattractive line. “I see.”
“Is that really what happened?” Kate demands.
I nod. “I just didn’t remember the sequence of things.”
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Martin says. I notice Barb Crudup, the math teacher from the high school, standing behind Martin.
So that’s why he never called me back for a second date.
And I’m fine with it. Better than fine.
I’m fine with it because I am fine with myself. And if a man—whether it’s an art teacher or a billionaire—doesn’t want to be with me, that’s his problem.
While this epiphany races through my mind, I’m still standing there, silently looking at Martin. “It’s nice to see you,” I tell him to fill the silence. It is nice to see him. Martin is attractive in his own small, quiet way.
Not like Ashton.
Martin would be perfect for the old Sophie. “Have a good night,” I say, and then with Kate beside me, I walk away.
I say walk, but it’s really sort of loping.
And I don’t go far before my Dad catches my arm. Duncan Laz—former rock star, romance novel model—dressed in a well-cut suit, his grey hair hanging loose around his face, makes most of the females of Battle Harbour swoon.
And he’s my father. He’s here for me. He always has been, even when I didn’t know it.
“How are you doing?” he asks, forehead creased with concern.
“I’m fine. I’m good,” I assure him.
“Do you need anything?”
“A dance with my dad?”
His face softens, and if possible, makes him even more good-looking. “I would like nothing more.”
Kate takes my crutches. “I’ll take these. You won’t need them if you stand and sway.”
I manage to do more than sway, sliding my foot so we move in a small circle. Dad, with a bemused smile on his face, lets me lead.
“You’re doing well with the foot,” he says.
“I am. I thought maybe I should move back to my apartment soon.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m not sure what I want to do,” I admit, scrunching my nose. “I’m not sure I want to live with Stella anymore.”
“Did you have a fight?”
“No, I just think I’d like my own space.”
“There’s plenty of space in the castle. Magnus would love to have you there. We could move you to one of the suites—”
“I like my room there. The room I’ve been staying in,” I correct.
“Your room. I like the sound of that.” We share a smile.
“I’ll think about it.”
I’ve already been thinking about it. I feel at home in the castle. It’s nice seeing Dad so much, being taken care of, feeling like I belong.
I just have to keep reminding myself about that.
“I wish you would,” Dad says. “I talked to the police yesterday. About the accident. I told them there was no reason for them to keep the case open, that you wouldn’t be pressing any additional charges.”
Gone is the bluster and loud voice of a man defending his daughter. And I’m glad, because with this, I don’t need to be defended.
“It’s not Ashton’s fault,” I say. “I don’t even think he hit me. I don’t want to press charges or start a big lawsuit… I just want my toes to heal and move on.”
And maybe my heart.
“Is this because you… may have…” Dad looks pained, like he’s trying to figure out a math problem. If I didn’t know what he’s trying to say, I might laugh. “Feelings for… Ashton? You might like him?”
I groan. “Please don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I may not have thought a lot of him, but I have to say—he may have grown on me.”
“Really?”
“Please don’t look so happy about that,” Dad grumbles. “I’m just saying, you could do worse.” And his gaze flicks over to where Martin dances with Barb.
“Are you ever going to approve of anyone I date?” I wonder.
“Are you dating him?” he demands. “I said he’s growing on me, not that I like him.”
I laugh, and as we turn in a small circle, I see Ashton standing by the door.
My heart catches. He’s wearing a suit in black velvet, perfectly tailored and fitted, a snowy white shirt and a tie the colour of…
I smile. Ashton found a tie that matches my dress.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen with him,” I tell Dad without taking my gaze off Ashton.
At the way he smiles—a half smirk/smile—and the way he doesn’t take his eyes off me.
My stomach flips and flops and squeezes, all at once.
The song ends, and another begins. “You should go dance with Mrs. Theissen,” I tell him.
“Sophie…”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with the two of you, or am I going to have to keep guessing?”
“I don’t… we didn’t… I’m not sure…”
I laugh, because it’s not often one gets to see Duncan Laz flustered. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I approve. If that means anything.”
“It means a lot,” he says, silvery eyes looking a little damp. “With Fern here…”
“Is that why she’s here? So you can make it official?”
Dad shrugs, looking completely out of his depth. “Maybe? But your sister—”
“Will be completely fine. Now, go. Figure things out.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
Dad makes a noise in the back of his throat as he pulls me into a hug. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”
“I think it’s time that I start again… especially if I’m going to be living at the castle. Someone has to act as your chaperone.”
Dad laughs. “Maybe we should rethink things.”