Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
The long, torturous drive back to the city beside her sister hurt Lizzy’s head.
Perhaps it was penance for her foolish actions.
She couldn’t think straight—not that she had time to mull over Louisa’s wedding reception filled with coincidences and simultaneous elation.
In the passenger seat, Jane was a tearful, acrimonious mess, consuming all her attention.
“Charlie said ...” “Charlie accused ...” “William lied…” “Charlie broke it off ...” “I’m so hurt…
” “I’m a good person…” “I’m too attractive to be still single!
...” All because of something William said to her new boyfriend at the reception.
In a stunning revelation, it turned out that William knew who orchestrated—or planted—the seeds of their breakup. How did he know for sure it was Jane’s influence and regurgitated words when casting him aside for Paris? Anne must have confirmed what he accused that horrible night.
Last night, he’d confidently strode into the wedding reception, looking like .
.. like a billionaire who had stepped from the pages of GQ magazine.
Those baby blues stopped her heart, then it beat faster than ever, confirming what she always knew to be the truth: She still loved him with an ache so deep she’d buried it and tried to move on in a half-life without him.
His obvious snub of Jane had, at the time, confused her, but it now made sense.
William hadn’t lied about anything, and knowing his code of ethics, he had been painfully forthright in explaining what he believed to Charlie.
The reality of Jane’s situation hurt her heart.
She admitted that her sister deserved everything she got from Charlie because his was the same reason past boyfriends had broken it off without explanation and probable fear of retaliation.
Charlie showed balls in confronting the accusation, but he hadn’t known Jane long enough to experience her hidden malevolence waiting to rage.
Besides, if she went ballistic on him, he’d dump her, just like all the others.
Meddling in the lives of vulnerable people out of petty jealousy and fake concern was a nasty page taken from their mother’s playbook and very unlike a true Wyomingite.
But—trying to be a good sister—Lizzy knew how to play the game and adapt, having learned the hard way to never share anything personal with Jane.
Instead, she focused on positive traits and understanding of her sister’s deep-seated insecurities.
She quickly glanced over at Jane’s sour expression. Gone was the outwardly sweet and proper sister (recognized masks to conceal the beast within) who, only days before, encouraged her to “… be more sympathetic to George in his disappointments.”
“I knew that silver spoon was a piece of crap!” Jane cried, speaking of William. “How dare he stick his nose in my affairs! Just you wait ... I’ll cancel him all over social media. The Darcy name will be shit when I get through with him. Hashtag Destroy Pemberley.”
Internally, she laughed. As if Jane had any power or influence.
She had a measly fifty followers on InstaFace.
William would squash her like a cockroach under his cowboy boot (did he still have them?) if she messed with the Darcy reputation.
As it was, Jane was lucky he only gave her a cold shoulder and a heat-seeking missile stare down at the reception.
Arguing with her sister was futile, but a word of caution was necessary, as this could easily spill over into her La Tempera world. “Jane, you shouldn’t mess with the Darcy family. William will sue you into oblivion if you slander him or his family name. Then you’ll never get Charlie back.”
“Oh my God! You’re taking his side? I’m the slandered, innocent one!
And don’t think I’ve already forgotten how you dissed me and George on the dancefloor.
One dance with your ex and you’re already defending him, and betraying me by throwing me, your fiancé, and your career to the curb for a drunken piece of entitled crap! ”
Here’s the rage. Tread lightly, Lizzy. Call your therapist in the morning. Breathe, hold onto the light within.
“Sweetie, I’m not taking any side. Everyone was drunk last night, even Charlie, even me!
I’m sure we all did or said something regrettable.
It’ll all work out. You’ll see. Charlie will come back, and you’ll forgive him for this silly misunderstanding.
Why wouldn’t he take you back? You’re wonderful.
You’re beautiful and everything he could want in a girlfriend,” she pandered to keep the rage at a minimum by telling Jane what she wanted to hear.
Looking over at her sister’s mascara-streaked face she smiled thoughtfully.
Poor thing, to be so tied to her unrealistic narrative of things.
Jane snorted. Now, that was something she had never heard from her proper sister. “You should ask your fiancé what he did last night. He’s no saint, you know, but a hell of a lot better than your ex. Then again, you’re no trip to Paris either.”
Don’t bite. Don’t ask. She’s baiting you, trying to hurt you because she’s hurting.
You do not need to respond to or feed her rage.
This was exactly why she moved two thousand miles away from family.
She should have remained in Paris and let the ungrateful woman continue to stay on in the Queens apartment, paying for it herself!
In France, she had escaped demons and some ghosts, even if she lost her desire to create after word came of Anne’s passing.
She could kick herself for imprudently returning to New York.
“Are you listening, Lizzy?”
She simply smiled and nodded, sending the attention whore back to her victimhood.
“I really liked him and now it’s all ruined because of you and that asshole. To think I wasted free coffee and money on all those gifts I bought Charlie. What a fucking ingrate! He doesn’t deserve me.”
Of course, Jane thought she was innocent. She was always either the martyr, the victim, or the hero, but finally, someone was making her accountable for interfering.
Listening, even with half an ear, to Jane’s continued rant, an uncontrollable, visceral reaction surged within Lizzy.
Trapped within the malevolent shit storm, her fight or flight kicked in.
Panicked, she pressed the gas pedal, unable to escape the vitriol and circular word salad thrown at her in ear-piercing decibels.
Inside, she wanted to run from her skin; the world spun in an unidentifiable cyclone of fraying nerves.
Her stomach clenched and cramped. She broke into a cold sweat.
Trying to rein in her anxiety, she counted, focusing on her breathing.
One, two, three, four ... Imagining beautiful, happy things, she tried to refocus away from the raging monster at her right side.
A happy memory forced her inner light to smile.
“I’m crying my eyes out over here as my world comes to an end and you’re laughing?
I would have taken the train back to the city had I thought you’d be this heartless over my pain.
This is all your fault. You’re just like Dad and Charlotte.
What an ingrate she turned out to be! You know what?
I’m glad Charlotte’s as fat as a house now.
I hope she gets a divorce from that loser she married.
Their baby is probably the ugliest kid in America! Why do I even bother?”
Now came the expected silent treatment. Jane switched the radio on, clearly unhappy that Lizzy wasn’t fighting back.
Never once, neither last night nor this morning, had her sister asked, “How do you feel about seeing William again after all these years?” “Are you okay?” “Oh, Lizzy, your heart must be going through hell seeing him with Charlie’s sister!
” “He’s getting married to your new client, wow!
Talk about coincidences!” Nothing. Nada.
Zip. Zilch. Again, not that she’d tell her about the cyclone of feelings seeing William stirred up in her, but it would have been nice to be asked or a shoulder offered to cry on.
Yup, she was ostensibly sitting beside her mother and welcomed the music relief and petulant stonewalling.
It was at the two-and-a-half-hour mark of the journey toward dumping Jane off in Queens, then home, her preserve of solitude in Brooklyn, that she decided to daydream about happier times with William dancing to the cheerful song playing on the radio.