Chapter 31 Genevieve
Genevieve
I stare at the ceiling of the guest room, replaying last night on a loop I can’t shut off. The hug. His face in my neck. His hand cupping my cheek.
My mouth on the corner of his. I press my fingers to my lips like I can still feel it, and my stomach flips so hard I have to close my eyes and breathe through it.
Get up. Act normal. Be a person.
I find Lance in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand, Cavall at his feet. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt and sweats, his hair is messy from sleep, and when his eyes find mine, the air thins.
“Coffee’s ready,” he says, the same as every morning.
But his gaze drops to my mouth for half a second before he looks away, and my whole body goes warm.
“Thanks,” I manage, pouring a cup and leaning against the opposite counter because distance feels necessary for survival. “Your coffee sucks.”
The kitchen isn’t big enough. It’s never been big enough. Every time one of us moves, the space between us shrinks.
Neither of us mentions last night, but we don’t have to. It’s sitting in the room like a third person, watching us pretend.
“Jules texted,” he says. “Her and Felicity are coming over this afternoon. Dress thing for the party.”
“I’m not going.”
He looks at me over his mug.
“If Art doesn’t want to be my partner in every sense of the word, then I can’t just sit there and pretend we’re fine.”
“I get that. But you need to play the game, just like your dad said, Half-Pint.”
“He didn’t say it, he implied. I could have been wrong. And I’m not a chess piece.”
“No, you’re not. But that doesn’t mean you’re not playing one on the board.
” He sets his mug down. “The queen’s the most powerful piece, but she’s also the most patient.
” He swallows like the memory pains him.
“You’re the queen, Genevieve. Hold your moves close and let the other pieces show themselves first.”
“Who told you that?”
“Bev—” He shakes his head. “Cassandra.”
His nanny. The woman who infiltrated his family under a fake name and then vanished.
“You’re quoting a piece-of-shit liar who betrayed you as sound advice?”
He shrugs. “She fooled my entire family for over twenty years. Good advice doesn’t change just because you don’t like who gave it. Wasn’t it you who told me to hold on to the good things?”
“And what piece are you, then?”
“The knight, I guess. Good for sacrificing when shit gets bad.”
The way he says it, like he’s already accepted his own expendability, makes my chest ache. He’s had people shaping his self-perception for so long that he doesn’t see how important he is.
“You’re not expendable to me.”
My heart pounds as I say it, but I need him to know.
His eyes meet mine, and the energy between us thickens. “Knights protect the queen.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I guess they do.”
The sound of tires crunching breaks the moment. Cavall’s head shoots up and Lance is at the window before I can blink.
“It’s Jules.”
Juliette tumbles through the front door with a bottle of wine tucked under one arm and a grocery bag from Second Circle in the other.
“I come bearing gifts,” she announces, then stops when she sees Lance. “Why are you still here?”
“I live here.”
“Yes, and Ginny needs to try on dresses, which means you need to leave.” She dumps everything on the couch, narrowly missing Cavall. “Go. Shoo. Do something useful.”
“I’m not leaving her alone.”
“She won’t be alone. Roman’s doing a perimeter check because apparently everyone in this family is paranoid, and Felicity’s grabbing the rest of the bags.” She flaps her hands. “Go away. Girl stuff. You’re being weird.”
Lance’s eyes flick to me.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Go check the perimeter with Roman. Be useful.”
“You’re kicking me out of my own house.”
“Consider it payback for not letting me leave.”
Juliette cackles.
Lance holds my gaze a beat longer than necessary, and the warmth of the night before pulses between us like a heartbeat. Then he grabs his jacket.
“I’ll be close,” he says.
“We’ll scream,” Juliette finishes. “Very loudly. Now go.”
He goes, but not before one last look over his shoulder.
The door clicks shut and Juliette sighs. “Hi. Ready to find you something that’ll make Art’s jaw hit the floor?”
The name Art sounds sharp and feels worse.
The front door bangs open and I nearly jump out of my skin, but it’s Felicity, tall, golden, smiling like the sun, and juggling garment bags.
“Roman’s outside interrogating a squirrel,” she announces. “It looks very intimidated.”
Juliette claps. “Lance’s bedroom has a full-length mirror. That’s our fitting room.”
“You want me to try on dresses in Lance’s bedroom?”
“Unless you’d rather strip in the living room with the windows.” Felicity raises an eyebrow.
“Bedroom’s fine.”
The moment I step through his doorway, his scent wraps around me—the same smell clinging to the hoodie I’m wearing, the same one that was on my skin last night when he held me.
The bed is made with military precision. Dark sheets pulled tight. An open book on his nightstand, and I physically stop myself from walking over to see what he’s reading.
“Earth to Ginny.” Juliette snaps her fingers. “You okay?”
“Fine. Processing.”
Felicity hangs the garment bags on the closet door. “Options.”
The first dress is black and slinky. When I try it on, it makes me feel like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s skin.
“Close,” Juliette says. “But not quite.”
“Like a sexy funeral,” Felicity mutters, tossing it aside. We go through a few more options before Felicity says, “Okay, try this one.”
She holds it up like it’s the Holy Grail.
“Had a feeling when I saw it.”
“And you made me go through the other ones first?”
“Saved it for last like the dramatic friend I am.”
The fabric makes me catch my breath. It’s the color of the ocean at dusk, a deep, rich teal that shimmers between blue and green depending on the light. Fitted bodice, sweetheart neckline, thin straps, a skirt that hugs the hips before flowing to the floor with a slit up one side.
I step behind the closet door to change, fingers trembling with the zipper. The fabric is cool against my skin, and it’s heavier than I expected.
The woman in the mirror is someone I barely recognize. The color makes my hair look like fire. The neckline shows just enough. The slit reveals a flash of leg. The whole thing fits like it was made for my body.
I step out, and Juliette’s mouth falls open.
“Holy shit.”
Felicity nods slowly. “That’s the one.”
“Are you sure?” I turn back to the mirror. For a second I don’t see the blacklisted chef who got manipulated into moving to a small town. I see someone who belongs in a room full of Calloways and Montgomerys and Penngroves.
Someone who could stand next to Lance and not feel like she’s fading.
Art. I mean Art, of course.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“You’re beautiful,” Juliette corrects. “The dress is just doing its job.”
I change back into Lance’s hoodie and my pants, but I can’t stop thinking about how that dress made me feel.
We migrate to the living room. Cavall’s claimed an empty garment bag. Juliette shoves him over gently and plops down, working the cork.
“Glasses are in the cabinet above the sink,” I say, then catch myself. This isn’t my kitchen.
But she just nods like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
For a while I pretend this is normal. That I have girlfriends who bring dresses and wine. That my heart isn’t tearing apart between the man who lives here and the one who’s disappearing.
“So,” Juliette says. “How’s being my brother’s roommate?”
“Fine.”
“Liar. You’re starting to look like him, you know?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I think you do.” She pulls Cavall’s head into her lap. “I won’t pry. But if you ever need someone who isn’t a Calloway man or a Penngrove, we’re here.”
“Well I am gonna pry,” Felicity says. “Jules thinks her brother’s up to something, and as her best friend I’m obligated to be concerned.”
Juliette shoots her a look. “I just said I wasn’t prying.”
“Lucky for us, we’re two separate people.”
Juliette picks at a thread on the couch. “I’m not stupid, Ginny. My brother has scars he won’t explain. He’s been disappearing for years, but lately he’s cut me out completely. We used to be best friends.”
My heart thuds. Because I know things but none of them are mine to tell.
“You know something,” she says. “I can see it.”
I take another gulp of wine and press my lips together.
“I’m not asking you to betray his trust. I just need to know, is he in danger? Is someone hurting him?”
The crack in her voice guts me.
“Because if they are, I can’t just sit here and watch him drown.”
He is drowning. I’ve seen it in every glance he cuts away, every wince when someone says Art’s name, every pause before an answer that sounds rehearsed.
“I can’t tell you everything,” I say. “It’s not my story.”
Her eyes fill. “But… He’s told you?”
“Yes.”
She tilts her head like she’s seeing me for the first time.
“He trusts you.”
“I’d hope so.”
I want to tell them everything. The email. Art’s coldness. The way Lance looks at me like I’m a problem he can’t solve and a hope he’s afraid to have.
But all I can manage is: “Thanks for all this. It means more than you know.”
Felicity scrunches her nose. “Have no fear, the bitches who keep it real are here.”
Juliette cracks a smile.
Felicity falls back on the couch, giggling. “This is nice. Being here. Away from everything.”
“Away from Alex, you mean,” Juliette says.
“God, you make it sound like I hate him. I love Alex, he’s one of my best friends. But, he’s so damn happy and optimistic, you know? It just feels like I’m stealing sunlight. Like grabbing whatever warmth I can before someone shuts the curtains.”
Juliette frowns.
“I’m fine.” The brightness snaps back into place on Felicity’s face. “More wine?”
Cavall’s head snaps up. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and we all freeze. He’s staring at the window, body rigid, hackles raised. The growl builds, and the hair on my arms stands up.