34 Pretending to Fall in Love #2
“Temmi. Tomorrow night’s best because Blessing Stone wants me to do a whole two-on-one confrontation with her and Cailin at the cocktail party. It makes sense to send Temmi home after. And it’ll give me a chance to say”—he cleared his throat—“goodbye.”
“Nicky, you can’t—”
Can’t what? Of course he could send Artemis home.
She was one of his girls, not Spie’s. But she’d been certain he’d keep her around until the finale.
He had to keep her around until the finale.
Tomorrow was too soon. Spie was supposed to have more time.
Was supposed to have another four weeks.
If Artemis went home tomorrow...the thought made Spie’s lungs feel strangled.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” he said, sitting up.
Spie stared at him. You have no idea how much I care. You can never have any idea how much I care. But all she said was, “But you like her. And she’s great for ratings. Why can’t you keep her around until the end?”
Nicky tugged off his glasses. Stared at them in his hands. “I’m sending her home because I like her. Because I know I can’t choose her, and the longer she stays, the more it’ll hurt when I have to say goodbye. Blessing Stone is fine with it so long as I let her make tomorrow night dramatic.”
Spie kicked herself internally. She should’ve guessed Nicky would take such a practical approach.
She’d assumed, because it was what she would’ve done in his place, that he’d keep Artemis around, soak up whatever time he could get until there wasn’t time left.
But Spie was selfish—hadn’t she learned that? And Nicky, clearly, wasn’t.
“No,” Spie said, because even now, even with him looking all sad and broken, even with him telling her to her face that it’d hurt him to keep Artemis Ialan around, Spie was only thinking of herself. Gods and nebulas, Arbora was right about me.
“No?”
“No,” Spie repeated. “I won’t let you send her home.
I don’t give my assent. You know why, Nicky?
Because you’re terrible at letting yourself be happy.
You’re about to give yourself to the empire for the rest of your life.
Look how miserable Mom is. That’s going to be you, especially if you choose Cailin.
So, be selfish for once and choose Artemis—Temmi. You don’t have to say goodbye at all.”
For a moment, a nebula-cursed hopeful moment, Spie thought he’d say yes.
Instead, he said, “You’re wrong. I do have to choose Cailin.”
Spie wanted to throttle him. “Why? Because of Mom’s stupid agreement with New Terra? You know what, fine. I’ll marry Cailin. I’ll pick her in the end. Agreement complete—she’ll get an heir. And you can be free to pick Temmi. Like you obviously want to.”
Nix blinked at her. “You would—you would do that for me?”
“Uh, yeah, duh, idiot. I mean, a marriage between me and Cailin would most certainly end with New Terra declaring war on the empire, and we’d probably have to be celibate because I just cannot couldn’t bring myself to—but hey, it wouldn’t be boring.
” She sobered up her tone. “For real, though, I’d do it, Nicky, if it meant you could be happy.
Say the word and I’ll throw the curveball of the century and pick Cailin Frederik during the finale. ” She surprised herself by meaning it.
Nicky let out a strangled half-laugh but shook his head. “I appreciate it, but—you can’t. Not after she turned you down in the intros. It has to be me.”
“I don’t know. It’d make for a memorable finale, don’t you think?”
“I would never ask it of you.”
“Then just don’t pick her, Nicky. This is your life.
You can be with the person you want to be with.
I know Mom’s been pressuring you—but who gives a shit?
You’re twenty-six years old. Live your own damn life.
Let Mom be unhappy. It’s her own fault for getting into backdoor marital treaties with nonconsenting children. Let her clean up her own messes.”
“It’s never that simple.”
“It actually is.”
“You only say that because you’ve always gotten what you wanted.”
“That’s not fair—”
“I don’t need your assent. I won our last bet. I get final say if we disagree, remember?”
“Why are you the most stubborn person I know?” Spie said, because if she didn’t say anything, she might cry, and she couldn’t do that.
She stood up, snuffed out the half-smoked joint against his bedside tabletop, then flicked it into the trash.
“Promise me you’ll at least think about what I said?
Don’t make a decision tonight. If you still want to get rid of Artemis tomorrow, then I can’t stop you. But take the next day? Please.”
Nicky nodded, gaze still downcast.
Spie returned to her own room. Once inside, she didn’t make it far before sinking to the carpet and burying her head in her hands. Only one thought resounded in her head, over and over, like a prayer or a plea or a curse.
I can’t lose her.
· · ·
The next morning, Spie woke early for her sailing date. She had three unread bridges from Artemis, sent sometime in the middle of the night.
Trash Girl: Hey, so I know you have that date with Arbora tomorrow. I kept going back and forth about sending this but what the fuck, right? The thing is, I overheard her talking to Justine yesterday and I don’t trust her intentions. I thought you should know.
Trash Girl: I’m not sending this because I’m jealous.
Trash Girl: Okay, whatever, I am a little jealous. Maybe a lot jealous. But that’s not fair so pretend I didn’t say it. My point is, my concern isn’t from jealousy, it’s genuine. I wouldn’t say anything otherwise.
Spie smiled at the messages, bridging back.
Spie: Aww, you’re vetting people’s intentions for me, now? I never knew you to be sweet, Trash Girl. But if you hadn’t noticed yet, nobody’s on Love Galaxy with pure intentions. Except maybe Iasha.
Spie: (P.S. You have nothing to be jealous of.)
Artemis bridged back immediately.
Trash Girl: Just be careful. Please.
· · ·
“It really is beautiful out here.” Arbora stood at the catamaran’s starboard hull, dressed in a crimson halter top and white sailing pants, sea spray flecking her face.
“As much as I love the Moons, there’s truly nothing like the ocean.
And you can only get ocean on green planets.
” She turned to Spie, her dark eyes lit by the rising sun.
“The symbiotic meta phor isn’t lost on me.
The way my moons power your tides. There is no greater bond than that between a planet and her moons. ”
“Hm. Not very subtle, are you?”
In Spie’s ear, Kalvin, who was in the catamaran’s cabin, communicating by radio with Blessing Stone, suggested she put her arm around Arbora.
But Spie couldn’t—not even for the cameras.
Found herself too tired to play pretend this morning.
Instead, she settled for standing beside her ex and squinted into the low horizon.
A camera operator hung a camera from a long rig, capturing their moment.
“I’m not exactly trying to be subtle,” Arbora said. “Tell me you and I have a chance.”
Spie should be able to do that. So, why couldn’t she force out the words?
Why couldn’t she think about anything but the possibility that today might be her very last with Artemis?
There was so much Spie wanted to show her.
A thousand different species of birds, a hundred different symphonies, zoos and restaurants and museums. She wanted to get high with her on the roof of the Imperial Tower, wanted to take her to veloci-racing matches and eat fried foods, wanted to stay up all night and listen to her talk about her childhood, wanted to spend a whole day watching her build one of her contraptions, jumpsuit tied at her waist. Spie wanted—she wanted , period.
What was the point of Love Galaxy without Artemis?
How was Spie meant to go on, pretending to fall in love?
The prospect, once shrug-worthy, now sounded unbearable.
But if Nicky changed his mind, Spie could have one more month.
And if he picked Artemis, then Spie could have forever.
Not in the way she wanted, but she could have her forever as a friend.
And wouldn’t she take that over not having Artemis at all?
Or was that selfish too? And if so, how did she stop?
“You need to bring some more life into this scene, Your Highness,” Kalvin said in her ear .
“It’s falling flat. Blessing Stone wants you to be more physical, ask Ambassador VinVanxin about any significant relationships after you two broke up, that sort of thing.
Take a five-minute recess while we reset. ”
Spie retreated to the joint upper deck. Arbora followed. The wind was loud, the ocean everywhere. Spie thought about diving in, swimming to a new world, a new life, a new identity.
“You’re off today,” Arbora noted, sitting beside Spie.
“You think you want this,” Spie said, ignoring the comment, “but you shouldn’t.
Go back to Irma, Arbora. Be happy with someone else.
Surely, you dated someone who was better to you than me in the last eight years.
You can’t honestly want this—us—to happen again.
I already told you I won’t be any help in the imperial court. ”
Arbora pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead and turned so she was fully facing Spie. “I ended a years-long relationship with someone to come here. It was a big risk. But you’ve changed, Spie. I think we could make an honest go at something real. I want that.”
Spie leaned back on her elbows. “What was her name? The person you left to be here?”
Arbora’s gaze shifted to her hand, to the black ring on her left pointer finger. “Her name was Jacks. She’s a they. And a she.”
Spie nodded. In her ear, Kalvin called for her to head back down the deck.
She stood, inhaled the fresh, briny air.
“Night one, you told me we were toxic— I was toxic. I’ve been thinking a lot about that.
I’ve spent most of my life ignoring the impact of my position on those around me.
Taking what I wanted from people. From you.
If I married you because you were the easy option, how would that be any different?
If you were happy with this Jacks on Irma, then you should go home and be happy.
Let’s finish out this date, but I think it’s time I finally let you be, don’t you?
I’m glad you came here, though. I think we both needed the closure. ”