Chapter 26 Jessiah
I’d hardly made it into the next alcove before Lincoln showed up. And although I hated to go against my own desires for the sake of a Weston, I was glad that I’d left. Not that I thought we should have to hide—but I knew how much trouble Helena would be in if her family found out.
“What are you doing here, Helena?” her brother asked suspiciously. “Was he with you?”
Dude. He wasn’t just with her. He almost kissed her. I’d wanted to ever since that night at Bella Ciao. And I’d come pretty close to finally making it a reality—as my body was making very apparent.
I hadn’t been surprised to see Helena tonight; in fact, she was the reason I’d come.
My mother had gotten the invitation weeks ago, but she knew I wouldn’t be up for coming along to play hotel testers with her.
Until I’d heard that Helena was going to be here, and—against my better judgment—I’d taken the opportunity to finally see her again.
She’d been standing at that table wearing a knee-length, dark blue, slim-cut dress with a lace neckline, her hair down again.
She looked amazing, just like every time I saw her, but of course I couldn’t tell her that, since we were surrounded by people who were just itching for us to provide gossip fodder.
We’d been forced to ignore each other all night, but the longer the dinner went on, the more I felt like throwing caution to the wind and finding a way to get her alone.
Especially as I could tell she wasn’t okay.
So when she left the room, I got up and followed—and within a matter of minutes I discovered that she was just as frustrated by the situation as I was.
And that I wasn’t capable of staying away from her.
At least until her brother showed up.
“Who?” Helena replied on the other side of the curtain. It sounded like she was making an effort to sound as clueless as possible, though she must have known that Lincoln was talking about me.
“Jessiah Coldwell, of course!” His voice was low, but he couldn’t hide that he was vexed.
“I know you went home together from some club recently. And I’ve seen you tonight, the way you look at each other when you think no one’s watching.
Are you seriously telling me you weren’t planning to meet him in here? ”
I didn’t move an inch. As rude as it was to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, I’d never cared much for etiquette, and I was worried about Helena. I pushed the fabric to the side a little so I could see what was going on.
“That’s completely absurd.” Helena folded her arms and leveled a look at him like he had a screw loose. My heart was pounding again just looking at her. “I wasn’t planning to meet him. I wanted—” She broke off.
“What?” Lincoln insisted.
She was silent for a moment and seemed to be wondering whether to tell her brother the truth. He didn’t wait to find out.
“Answer me, Len, or I’m going straight to Mom and Dad. How long has it been going on?”
“There’s nothing between Jessiah and me,” she said. “We just met by coincidence a couple times in the last few weeks, and—”
“And what?” Lincoln seemed genuinely concerned. Which surprised me—usually he was as cool and collected as his parents. This thing really seemed to be bothering him.
“At some point we… we realized we like each other, okay?” She held up her hands in defense.
That made me smile—the way she’d called us “we” so naturally. And she was right, I did like her. Although, if I were being honest with myself, it was probably more than that.
“You like him?” Lincoln repeated incredulously, closing his eyes in exasperation, as though she’d just confirmed his worst fears. “Is that code for I’m sleeping with him?”
“No, it is not,” Helena replied quietly, in full control of her facial expression. It was the truth, but I got the sense that she’d thought about it—and I couldn’t stop my own mind from wandering to what might have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted.
Lincoln wasn’t buying it. “Do you have any idea what it would mean for our family if this thing with you and him got out? How much damage it could do?”
“You think I care about our standing in a society that holds Valerie responsible for her and Adam’s deaths? I don’t give a shit what people think!”
“And what about what I think, or Mom and Dad? Do you give a shit about us?” Lincoln asked furiously. “Because it’ll be us who have to face the repercussions, just like with Val! I thought you’d learned from her mistakes.”
Helena shook her head. “What mistakes were those? Being herself? Being in a relationship with someone she loved? Or dying?”
It was moving, the way she saw Valerie—how she always went to bat for her sister in spite of everything people said about her. And she clearly believed something that hadn’t properly landed with me until tonight: Adam and Valerie had really loved each other.
Lincoln took a good look at his sister, and I saw disappointment in his eyes. “What’s wrong with you? You used to know what it meant to be a Weston.”
“Yes, and I also used to blindly do what I was told and believe people were telling the truth! But look around—Mom and Dad, you and Paige… it’s all fake.”
“Fake? Did he tell you that? Trying to get you to be like him? Did he tell you that family means nothing as long as you’re living your best life?”
I almost let out a derisive snort: he was as wrong as it was possible to be.
I was full of ego when I’d left New York City, but things were different now—and my life was a long way off what I wanted it to be.
I could see from Helena’s expression that she was about to say so, but then she simply pursed her lips and said nothing.
Her brother rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe that whole Westwell shit is repeating itself,” he said. Under his breath, but audible all the same.
“Who says it’s repeating itself?” Helena asked. “Jess and I aren’t Valerie and Adam. What happened to them has nothing to do with us.”
“It has everything to do with you, Helena,” Lincoln spluttered. “What you do, or don’t do, is extremely important for us. And if Mom and Dad find out you’ve been seeing Jessiah… well, you know what’ll happen.”
Even I knew that. She’d told me when she came to my apartment to get Valerie’s sweater: she’d be sent straight back to England. Something suspiciously like fear stirred in me then, and I realized how much I didn’t want her to disappear from my life before she’d even really become a part of it.
“Are you going to tell them?” she asked.
“No. What would that achieve? They’d send you into exile again, and things with Trish Coldwell would get even more acrimonious. But I’m only going to keep quiet if you stay away from Jessiah from here on. You have to forget about him. You understand that, right?”
There was a short pause, then finally Helena took a breath. “Yes,” I heard her say, and my insides tightened painfully at that one little word. “I understand.”
Lincoln let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Now let’s get out of here before someone comes looking for us.”
He held the curtain to one side, and they went out into the hallway and back toward the function room.
Rooted to the spot, I tried to understand why it had been so hard to hear Helena say she was going to stay away from me, when I knew without a doubt it was the right thing to do.
But it wasn’t our decision, and that made me crazy.
That Helena and I didn’t get to choose, that we couldn’t just find out what this thing was between us and where it was going.
That was why it hurt so much—because I’d probably never find out what that girl could have been to me.
I pulled myself together, and for a moment I thought about heading back to my room, ditching my suit, and just blowing off the rest of the night.
Or even better, taking off altogether, grabbing my board, driving to the beach, and reclaiming some freedom.
But I knew it wasn’t just Lincoln who had eyes on me, it was my mother, too.
I’d agreed to come tonight, so I’d have to see this through.
I went back into the reception room, back to our table, where at that moment dessert was being served.
Helena was already in her seat again, a napkin in her hands, making an effort to pretend everything was okay.
And although she smiled and kept up the conversation with her neighbors, I could tell she was having a hard time keeping up the facade.
And when our eyes met again, I knew it for sure.
I wanted more than anything to get up, go over there and kiss her, leaving everyone else in the room gasping in shock.
To make it clear, once and for all, that it didn’t matter one bit what our last names were. But of course I couldn’t do that.
I forced myself back to my senses. I didn’t want Helena to see what I was thinking and make it even harder for her.
Instead, I retreated into myself, shutting down my feelings and pasting an aloof smile on my face before I turned away, picked up my spoon, and pretended to be fascinated by my dessert.
A storm raged inside me, but on the outside I was totally calm.
I played my role. That was what these people did, after all.
No, that was wrong.
It was what people like me did.