Chapter 24
Ember
We haven’t even been here an hour yet, but I can say with absolute confidence that I bloody love Ophelia Beaufort. And not just because this baby shower is so cheerful and colorful that you can’t possibly be in a bad mood. More than anything, Lydia’s aunt rocks.
She’s the kind of person who makes you automatically feel at home in their house, even if you’ve never been there before.
Within the first fifteen minutes, she’s pressed a mocktail into my hand and chatted to Ruby and me about our ambitions.
She even talked about my blog and told me that she’s subscribed to it, that she reads everything I post. So how can I help thinking she’s great?
But my euphoria is dampened when Wren walks into the garden. The others greet him boisterously, but I turn away to get into a conversation with Lin about her mum’s gallery. I just can’t look at him.
I knew today wasn’t going to be easy. It hurts to have lost Wren as a friend, and even though I was determined not to let it show, the stabbing pain in my chest when I first saw him was so fierce that for a moment, I didn’t know how to deal with it, and Lin had to repeat herself twice.
Since then, I’ve been trying to ignore the fact that Wren is here, and not to jump every time I hear him laugh.
I’m glad when Ophelia comes back toward me, takes my hand, and leads me over to a large canvas at the back of the garden.
“Oh, how cute,” I say as I see the picture on it: two little tortoises, each with a huge bunch of balloons in its mouth, being carried up into the sky by them. “Did you paint it?”
Ophelia nods with such pride that I have to smile. “I saw something like it on Pinterest.”
I eye the artist’s palette that’s sitting on a little wooden table next to the canvas, and all the different colors of paint. “What do I do?”
“It’s finger paint,” Ophelia explains. “You use your thumbprint to color in the balloons and the tortoises’ shells. Look, like this.”
Following her instructions, I dunk my thumb in the yellow and then the green paint and press it onto the rough canvas. It’s so sunny that the light reflecting off the white surface is making my eyes water, but judging by Ophelia’s enthusiastic squeals, I’ve done a good job.
“Lovely, Ember! You’re clearly a talented painter,” she says, beaming at me. I’m wondering how she can tell that on the basis of a thumbprint, but it’s nice of her either way.
“Have you had a go?” I ask, looking at the few balloons that have already been painted.
“Yes, this is mine,” she replies.
“Yours is glittery,” I say. “Why is yours glittery? I can’t see any glitter here.”
“Even more evidence of your good taste.” Ophelia grins from ear to ear. “Lydia said not to over-egg the pudding, so I took the glitter away. But if you like, I can go and get it back.”
I shake my head. “No, no, that’s fine. I think the painting is a lovely idea.”
“I feel as though I’ve spent the whole of the last four weeks doing nothing but searching online for baby shower inspiration.
In the end, I had to just pick my favorites or the garden would have burst at the seams. And as you might be able to tell…
” She gestures expansively with her arm.
“Hey, Percy!” she calls suddenly. “Come and put your mark on the canvas!”
The chauffeur is a few feet away, getting himself a glass of the grapefruit cocktail. He stiffens. “Er—me? Do you really think that’s appropriate?”
Ophelia waves away his concerns.
Percy looks longingly back at the table but sighs and comes to join us at the canvas.
I once heard Mum gushing over Percy, and I have to admit that I now totally get the dreamy look on her face.
He also seems really nice, with his deep voice and friendly smile.
And it’s funny how formal he is with Ophelia, Lydia, and James, even when we’re in the middle of a sea of multicolored balloons.
“Here, go with the yellow,” Ophelia orders.
“Why yellow?”
“Because it’s a cheerful color and this is meant to be a cheerful painting.”
The way the two of them act around each other—Ophelia holding out the paint, and Percy’s smile losing a little of its stiff politeness—it’s clear that they’ve known each other for ages.
Percy dunks his thumb in the yellow paint, then presses it onto the canvas. His print is much larger than mine.
“I can’t believe you’ve got Percy painting,” says James’s voice, close behind me.
I turn toward him. “He’s good at it, don’t you—”
The words stick in my throat, and my whole body tenses.
Wren is standing next to James, his eyes fixed firmly on me. He looks like he’s about to open his mouth and speak to me. I’m not ready for that. As Wren’s lips part, I act on pure instinct: I mumble an apology, turn tail, and run toward the house.
I cross the conservatory, walk down the narrow hallway and into the guest bathroom.
Once I’ve shut the door behind me, I spend a few seconds breathing deeply in and out, in a desperate attempt to finally get my heart rate down a bit.
Then I go to the sink, run cold water over my hands and wrists, and dab some of it on my neck.
I stare pensively at the yellow-brown tiles, some of which, here and there, have little dogs printed on them.
Ophelia’s taste is a bit weird, but kind of cute, and there’s something touching about it.
Maybe it’s the grass and the pollen outside, maybe it’s the dog-print tiles, or maybe—this is just within the bounds of possibility—the tears that are suddenly stinging my eyes have something to do with Wren.
I summon up every ounce of strength I possess and try to pull myself together. This is meant to be a nice day. I refuse to let Wren’s presence get me down. Resolutely, I check that my mascara has stayed put, wash my hands again, and then open the door.
I turn right—and almost collide with somebody.
“Oh, there you are,” says Wren.
I can only stare at him. He’s greeting me like I’m his date, like he’s been looking for me and finally found me. Like we’re here together.
Which is bullshit.
I take a big step back from him. “Did you want something?” I ask.
“I’d like to talk to you if you’ve got a minute,” he replies.
I can’t read his expression, and I’d thought I’d got the knack of that by now. But apparently, I was only imagining it.
“I don’t know,” I say uncertainly, looking around to see if anyone nearby can hear us.
I have no idea what I’d say to Ruby if she found me with Wren in a dark hallway.
How to explain that Wren is the reason I was out so often and skipped school.
That I wanted to spend time with him because he sparked something in me that I’d never felt before.
I don’t think she’d understand. I’m not even sure if I understand myself anymore.
“We really need to talk. We can’t go on with things like this.”
“There’s nothing to go on with,” I reply flatly.
Wren flinches, barely perceptibly. His face softens, looks almost vulnerable.
“Ember,” he croaks in the end. “There’s something I have to say to you.”
All the negative thoughts that have followed me since we last met outside my school come flooding back, full weight.
You’re not good enough. You’re right back in the same pigeonhole where everyone puts you once they get to know you.
“If you were lying to me before, I’m not sure if I want to hear the truth now.
” I sound bitter and closed, and not at all like me.
I wonder how he does that. How does he manage to raise these thoughts in me when I try so hard to only make room for positivity in my life?
I don’t want to lose this fight. I can’t.
Wren takes a step toward me. There’s only eighteen inches or so between us. “I lied when I said we were friends, Ember.”
A horrible twinge twists my belly.
I knew it.
I knew it the first time he spoke to me. I could slap myself for having been nosy and for wanting to meet new people so badly.
A storm is growing inside me, trying to sweep me away, but I’m fighting it with all my might.
“You know what? I don’t have to put myself through this,” I say through gritted teeth, going to push past him. “So, if you’d kindly let me through?”
“Ember,” says Wren intently.
I refuse to look at his face, just stare at his chest.
“You misunderstood me,” he says quietly, but still with that urgency in his voice. “I don’t want to be just your friend, Ember. I’d like…more.”
Suddenly, the thoughts in my head fall silent. I look into Wren’s eyes but can’t utter a word.
He takes a ragged breath and clears his throat.
“When we first met, I just wanted a bit of fun. But then I got to know you properly and discovered what an amazing person you are. I started missing you, even though we were in touch the whole time. I looked forward to it every time we met. You were always there for me, even though I could barely give you anything in return, and so, bit by bit, I realized something.” His voice is getting hoarser the longer he speaks, and in the end, he has to cough again before he can carry on.
“I like you, Ember. More than that. I think I’ve fallen head over heels in love with you. ”
My ears can hear nothing but a loud roaring as Wren’s words play again and again in my head. I try to understand what they mean, try to understand what’s happening here, but I can’t.
I just stand there and stare at him.
“I realize that you don’t want anything like that from me. And I realize that—”
That snaps me out of my trance. “Says who?” I interrupt.
He opens his mouth and shuts it again. “Says who, what?”
“That I don’t want anything like that from you. Says who?” I ask.
“You did. Our first evening at Maxton Hall. You were pretty clear when you told me what you thought of me. And I respect that.”
“You mean on the evening when I’d met you all of about two seconds earlier, and you tried to kiss me even though you were drunk?” I ask in disbelief.
Wren gulps hard. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t even know you! I’m not the kind of girl who finds it easy to trust people, let alone someone who’d make out with a complete stranger.”
For a moment, Wren doesn’t reply. After a few seconds, he utters a monotone “Oh.”
I feel my heart hammering wildly against my rib cage. This moment between us is so intense that I’m almost dizzy.
“Why didn’t you want me at your party?” I ask.
Wren lifts a hand and rubs the back of his neck.
“I was scared. Of how my friends would react the first time they came to my new house. Of how Ruby and James would react when they found out we knew each other. And I was kind of scared of my own feelings. And that moment was a mixture of all of that.”
“I thought you didn’t want your friends to know about me, and that hurt,” I say, and Wren shakes his head at once.
“It’s not that. It truly isn’t that, Ember. It was…the timing. I was out of my depth.”
“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have reacted so harshly.”
“I should have told you what was going on,” he replies. “I was just panicking that I’d act weird around you and scare you away and…God knows. But I really don’t want to mess things up with you. You matter too much to me for that.”
“You matter to me too, Wren. That’s the only reason I was annoyed,” I say huskily.
“Really?” he asks.
I nod.
Slowly, Wren’s unique smile fights its way back to his face—that effortless, lazy smile that I noticed the very first time we met. But I’m a lot more familiar with it these days.
And having not seen it for so long, in this second, it’s waking a tingle that shoots through my whole body.
“So, what do we do now, Supergirl?” he asks, his voice muted.
His body is relaxed, but the look in his brown eyes is full of insecurity.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, meaning every word. I don’t know how to deal with everything he just told me. My heart is beating anxiously, and the butterflies in my stomach are making me jittery.
“Tell me what you want, Ember,” he whispers. “Whether we should go on being friends. Or if we can be more than that. Or if you still just want me to get out of your way so that you can go back to the others in the garden.”
If we can be more than that.
I don’t know exactly what that means—what it might mean for me—but I think that’s exactly what I want.
“There’s no need to get out of my way, Wren,” I say firmly.
He exhales. “There isn’t?”
I slowly shake my head. “No.”
Again, a smile spreads over his lips. This time, I smile hesitantly back.
“Can I give you a hug, Ember?” he asks quietly.
By way of an answer, I take a cautious step forward and put my arms around his waist. I feel his hands on my back, gently at first, and then tighter. I shut my eyes and try not to think for once, to just enjoy the moment.
A few hours ago, I was still trying to banish Wren right out of my mind. Now he’s holding me in his arms, and I can say with certainty that this is one of the best things that’s happened to me in a long time.
I haven’t lost him, I think as he strokes his hand down my shoulder blade. I feel his pounding heart against my body, which seems gradually to be calming down again—just like mine.
Like all we needed to find peace was each other.
“Wren,” someone suddenly exclaims in disbelief, “would you kindly tell me what the hell you’re doing with my sister?”