Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Elise
D ove’s eyes grew so wide, I thought maybe her bright blue irises would pop out of her head and take flight.
“Engaged?” she whisper-hissed as though anyone would overhear us in my cramped apartment. Occasionally, my neighbors banged on the door, but they wouldn’t now due to it being a level conversation in the middle of the day.
“Yes. Engaged.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I knew you were being weird. The whole time after you went outside with him, I knew something was up and I should’ve pushed.”
“You did push, but I didn’t cave. I don’t want anyone to know.” I shifted on the couch, curling into a ball and wrapping my arms around my knees. How often had I felt this same thing? The dread and even fear that my friends would find out the truth about the real dynamic with Callum? Or the fact that Glazed was very close to floundering, and I was trying my best not to be miserable about it?
Or even, the truth about my roots—the reality that I came from a woman who used men for their bank accounts, then moved on when they were emptied. That I worried I’d end up just like her.
Dove didn’t even know about the altercation outside Glazed, when Luc pinned dirtbag Callum to the wall with his forearm and called himself my boyfriend. He could’ve said ‘her knight in shining armor’ and it wouldn’t have been any less true, because in that moment, that’s what he was. It was just all so… unreal. And the boyfriend thing paled in comparison to the fiancé situation.
“No one would care. It’s not like you said he was your fiancé. That’d be embarrassing. But this? This is like… this is like some hot Mayfair Duke dreamboat randomly selects you as his bride.”
“Are you reading historical romances again?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
She fanned herself. “I will never not blush when a hero slowly removes a woman’s glove. There’s just nothing like it in contemporary.”
“True.” Though I hadn’t wanted the fluttery feeling that came along with those soft, simple moments in years. It’d be nice to want to feel it again, but I just… didn’t.
Dream about Luc in special ops agent soldier guy mode? Sure.
Relive the moment he shoved Callum into the wall in defense of me? Also yes, though that one was more than a little dangerous considering it had nothing to do with fantasy.
“So, okay. He told his family, we don’t totally know what that means except they’re coming here and will meet you, but it sounds like… not a big deal?”
The perplexed tone in her voice spoke clearly of her confusion, which I echoed.
“He was apologetic that he got me involved but told me because they would be coming here, and he refuses to admit we aren’t engaged.” Saying it out loud sounded absolutely ludicrous.
She smacked the coffee table in front of her dramatically. “Wait, does this mean he’s rich? Like, normal families don’t make their kids marry.”
My head tipped side to side. “Not super common in the US, for sure. Maybe it is in Europe, and they just don’t talk about it?”
She frowned deeply. “Lame. But worse, I feel like what you’re telling me is there’ll be no reason to pretend you’re engaged beyond meeting his family and therefore no reason for you to cozy up with gorgeous Luc and eventually have his babies.”
I barked a laugh. “You know I’m not interested in having anyone’s babies.”
She slumped back into the couch. “Maybe that’s what we should be discussing.” She paused to take a sip from her water bottle, ever the faithful hydrator, then continued. “Is Callum trying to weasel his way back in?”
Shame bubbled up and popped, a sharp burst of pain in my chest. If I hadn’t experienced it more than once, I might’ve thought I was having some kind of medical event.
But no. That was just the fallout of a relationship with Callum.
“No. It’s not happening.” He wanted to get back together, but I wasn’t going for it again.
A crawling sensation crept over me, the discomfort of this conversation a perfect reminder of why I didn’t like talking about Callum. Even when we’d been together, I didn’t tell my friends much about him. That should’ve been sign enough our relationship wasn’t healthy. Of course, not everyone shared every detail of their dating lives, but watching the way Nikki and Winnie and then Jo and even Jess had gushed or just had to share how wonderful their people were… it should’ve registered as a warning sign when I experienced a swarm of guilt and shame and unease sharing anything about Callum, even when we were supposedly fine.
“You know, none of what happened with him is your fault, right?”
Dove’s soft voice drew my attention, and a humorless laugh escaped my lips when I turned to see her brows pinched and her lips turned down with concern.
“Sure.”
She grabbed my hand and squeezed, then retreated back to her own space. “I mean it. I know you hate talking about it, but I also know you have this twisted idea that because he talked you into getting back with him, it’s on?—”
“More than once. He talked me into it more than once. I was weak enough, despite an incredible support system, that I went back.” Emotion hit instantly as I added, “Even after he’d showed me who he was and what it would be like in no uncertain terms. I still caved.”
I pressed the cuffs of my sweatshirt against my eyes to absorb the tears and attempt to calm myself.
“You say that like it makes it more your fault, but I want you to hear me. Look at me, please.”
She was soft as rising dough at times, but she had steel in her. When I gave her my eyes, reluctantly, she continued.
“You are an amazing woman who deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. With gentleness and love. You are not at fault for how that crap heap treated you, nor are you guilty of anything but trying to love someone who wasn’t right for you. That’s not a crime.”
Grief washed over me, and I shook my head. “Sometimes, I feel like I’ve dealt with all this. That it’s all behind me. But then random stuff happens, and it comes right back up.”
Dove inched closer. “You need a hug, right?”
My tears burst fully, and I spoke through sobs. “Of course.”
I pulled her in, clinging to her, breathing through my tears that felt so all-encompassing, I grieved that, too. Eventually, I huffed out the frustration and anger and sadness and leaned back, the comforting, sweet scent of her shampoo still lingering in my nose.
“Guess I needed that,” I said, chuckling as I wiped at my eyes.
“It helps.” She dabbed at her own eyes with a tissue while handing me one. “And I’m not convinced it’s because you haven’t dealt with a lot of what you needed to. Maybe you should go to therapy again, but maybe it’s just part of being human. Most of us don’t fold up our feelings and tuck them in a drawer, never to see them again. We take them out and wear them around from time to time. Sometimes, we decide we hate how they feel, and we get rid of them for good. But other times, we keep them in that bottom drawer.”
I grinned. “What a metaphor.”
She tucked a long lock of hair behind her ear. “Thanks. I tried.”
We laughed at her prim retort, and I shifted our focus. “What’s the latest with everything?”
She instantly knew what I meant. “Oh, did I not tell you? We got a spot at Silverton Springs. I have like, a month to get everything ready.” Her smile pulled in a way that looked strained, but her eyes held their sparkle.
“It’s expensive, right?” A stupid question. Silverton Springs was a gorgeous retirement community that also had a nursing home section for when residents needed medical care, too. It was highly sought after, and Dove had been waiting over a year for a spot to open up for her grandmother.
She chuckled. “Yeah. I’m… I mean I’ve been working, as you know, but seeing it in reality…” She shrank a little but sniffed and perked up. “It’ll be fine. It’s going to be amazing and I’m so excited. But I may not sleep more than four hours for a while.”
Another laugh snuck out and amazingly, it didn’t sound forced. I slipped my hand into hers and squeezed, knowing she craved the contact.
“You’re an amazing granddaughter. I wish I had some way to help.” The inability to assist in any way—whether offering some work or giving her a loan or anything—chafed more than ever.
She patted the back of my hand and offered me a soft smile, her eyes glistening. “Thank you. I know. Maybe if you marry a duke, you can hire me as the on-call nurse.” She swung part of my cream-colored throw blanket over her head and wrapped it around like a bonnet. “Or a part-time maid.”
We both cackled at her ridiculousness, but my heart weighed heavy in my chest.
Before I could stop myself, something pushed me to admit something I hadn’t admitted fully to myself, let alone told anyone else.
“I’m not sure I can do it again—not with Luc so much as… ever.”
She eyed me, trying to catch up to where my mind had gone. “Date?”
I shook my head. “Love.”
Her eyes shone with a fresh round of tears, but she simply nodded. “Well then, maybe a hot half-French fake fiancé is just the ticket.”