CHAPTER 70
There was dead silence for a moment, and it was only then that she noticed people were peeking from windows and that those walking were lingering close—hovering and pretending not to watch.
They leaned to each other and whispered in the pause; their words were too quiet though to break the piercing silence.
And in it, her breaths felt harder still. To step in and say she was not spoken for would only encourage Mr. Runington. To not would fan the flames of gossip all the higher, and considering she had no intention of marrying either of them, that hardly seemed appealing either. What was one to do?
But it was Mr. Runington who broke the silence with a scoff. “What? You? You think a lowly carpenter is good enough for her? That is my savior we’re talking about! A woman so beautiful it was like she was plucked from Olympus itself!”
She was absolutely certain that wasn’t true, and she started to step closer, hoping to stop them when Mr. Wilson cried, “Good enough? You speak as if you’ve made the choice for her. It’s her decision and hers alone.”
And then they both looked to her as if they expected the answer now, which was insane because neither of them were even in contention.
And yet it was another lie that she slid from her lips—for it felt that lies were all she had been doing lately.
“And I have told you both that I have no intention to marry.” Or maybe that actually was true.
She could never take Kallias to a church.
How would she get him there? A wheelbarrow filled with water?
Even the thought was ridiculous, and she could only imagine the priest’s face as she announced she’d like to be wed to what she was sure he’d call either a demon or a fish.
But it was then that her heart seemed to harden into a decision.
She had said they should get to know each other better, but now they had and she still wanted him as her happily ever after.
She wanted him now and forever. Perhaps the stars could marry them with the glory of the heavens as their witness.
It was fitting given how he looked like a child of the moon.
Both men were looking off, not at her, not at each other. Their arms were both crossed, Mr. Wilson’s foot tapping in frustration, Mr. Runington’s mouth twisted in a snarl. They looked so much like pouting children denied a toy she almost laughed.
But holding it back, she said, “Now, gentlemen, it’s time for me to be on my way. I have to light the lighthouse.”