Chapter Nine
I’M LOCKED IN THE POWDER room stall, hyperventilating, and I know I’m being a coward but I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t—
My hands are shaking.
My vision is tunneling.
My chest is so tight it feels like dying, like actually dying, because this is what dying feels like, right? Your lungs forgetting how to work and your heart racing so fast it might explode and—
Stop.
Breathe.
You’re having a panic attack, not a heart attack.
I press my palms against the cool metal of the stall door and try to remember the breathing technique Dorcas taught me.
In for four counts, hold for four, out for four.
Except I can’t count to four because my brain won’t cooperate, it just keeps replaying that moment on the balcony over and over and over.
Veil’s beautiful face when he asked me to be his girlfriend...and how he had whitened when I just gave him the dumbest excuse to run away.
Oh God, what is wrong with me?
The question echoes in my head, accusatory and loud, and I don’t have an answer.
Why can’t I just say yes?
Why can’t I just be normal about this?
He loves me, I love him, it should be simple, except nothing about me has ever been simple, and Joseph’s voice is in my head saying boring, boring, boring, and what if Veil realizes the same thing, what if he figures out I’m not interesting enough to be a duke’s girlfriend, what if—
My throat closes up completely.
This is a panic attack.
I know what these feel like. Joseph gave me plenty of them over three years. Every time he made me feel small, every time he looked at me like I was disappointing him, every time he canceled plans because I wasn’t exciting enough.
But this time it’s different.
This time I’m not panicking because someone hurt me.
I’m panicking because I might lose something precious. Something I didn’t even know I wanted until I flew to Wyoming with a stranger who held my hand while I cried.
God, I’m so scared.
Tears prick my eyes when I realize that I’m praying for the first time. Really praying and not just saying the words my mom expects me to say.
Mom’s believed in God all my life. She prays every morning, reads her Bible every night, talks about Him like He’s a person she knows personally. And I’ve always loved that about her, loved her faith, but I never really saw the need for it myself.
Because she’s done such an awesome job showing me that money doesn’t make the world go round, I just never thought I needed anything. That it would be even selfish of me to pray, when I already appreciate what I have.
But now...I finally get it.
What Mom’s understood all along even though she’s the strongest person I know.
Life is impossible without God.
You can try your best to survive. Maybe there will be days or even years that you think you’re doing great. But there will always come a time when you realize that you just can’t do it without Him, and that moment for me...is now.
Because while it terrifies me to death to trust another man with my heart—
Please God.
I know He’ll give me courage...
And the moment that thought pops in my mind, a memory surfaces from out of the blue—
I’m maybe six years old, sitting on Mom’s lap in our tiny apartment, and she’s reading me a children’s Bible.
The pages were colorful, the pictures simple, and I was probably more interested in the illustrations than the words, but Mom was reading anyway, her voice patient and warm and full of love.
And the words are suddenly right there in my head, clear as day:
“This is my command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”
And that’s it.
I open my eyes.
Stare at the back of the stall door.
Okay, God. You can’t get any clearer than that, so...
I take a breath.
Then another.
My hands have stopped shaking.
My chest isn’t as tight.
And I know, I just know, what I need to do.
I need to find Veil, and just like God says, I’ll be strong and courageous as I eat humble pie and apologize for being the world’s greatest idiot.
I unlock the stall and step out. My reflection in the mirror is a mess, mascara smudged, lipstick gone, face blotchy from crying, but I don’t care.
I splash water on my face, try to fix the worst of it, and then I’m walking back out into the hallway with my heart pounding and my hands shaking but my resolve firm.
People are still staring.
Still whispering.
Still looking at their phones.
I don’t know why, don’t know what they’ve seen or heard, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. The only thing that matters is finding Veil and telling him what I should have told him on that balcony.
I’m done being a coward.
That’s what this is, right? Cowardice. Running away when things get real, hiding when I should be fighting, letting fear make my decisions for me.
This time I’m going to be strong and courageous...because you can never go wrong by obeying what God asks you to do.
I walk back into the ballroom and scan the crowd for dark hair and blue eyes, for that particular way he stands like the room was built around him, but I don’t see him anywhere.
The fountain pen collectors are still clustered around the displays. The media people are still taking photos. Lady Hampton is signing something to an elegantly dressed couple near the refreshment table.
But Veil isn’t here.
I try the library first because that’s where he kissed me, where this began, but it’s empty. Then the portrait gallery, but that’s empty too. Then I’m walking through corridors trying to remember the layout of this estate, and my heart is pounding for a different reason now, and—
His study.
I knock on the door.
Part of me is terrified he won’t answer.
Part of me nearly cries with relief when I hear him say ‘enter’, and my knees knock against each other as I push the door open and step inside.
He’s at his desk, paperwork spread out in front of him, and he doesn’t look up when I enter. Just keeps writing, his pen moving across the page with sharp, controlled strokes.
“Veil, I’m so sorry—”
“Sorry for what?”
His voice is flat. Distant. Like I’m a stranger instead of the woman he asked to be his girlfriend twenty minutes ago.
I close the door behind me and try again. “For running away. I was stupid, I was wrong, and I...I love you, too.”
“Then...prove it.”
P-Prove it?
My heart bangs against my chest as he closes the distance between us, and I find myself holding my breath as his hand comes up to cup my face. The gentleness of the touch doesn’t match the coldness in his eyes, but I’m just too nervous and confused to understand what’s going on.
“Yes, Evianne.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “Prove it.”
He leans closer, and the moment his lips brush mine—
Oh.
So that’s what he means.
His lips are now moving against mine with a tenderness that makes my chest ache, and I’m melting into him, relief flooding through me because he understands, he forgives me, he—
But then I remember.
I need to prove I mean it. Need to show him this isn’t just me running back because I’m scared of being alone.
And so...
I press up on my toes and kiss him back, and it honestly feels like standing at the edge of that frozen lake all over again. That same breathless terror, that same leap of faith.
My hands find his chest, pressing against the solid warmth of him, feeling his heartbeat under my palms, fast, so fast, as fast as mine, and that gives me courage somehow, knowing he’s affected too, knowing I’m not alone in this terrifying vulnerability.
I deepen the kiss.
It’s clumsy at first. I don’t really know what I’m doing.
I’ve only ever kissed Joseph, and he always made me feel like I was doing it wrong.
But Veil makes this sound in the back of his throat, this low groan that sends heat rushing through my entire body, and I think maybe, maybe I’m doing it right this time.
Maybe with him it’s different.
Maybe with him I’m enough.
My fingers curl into his shirt, holding on, and I’m trying to tell him everything I can’t say out loud. I choose you. I’m choosing you. I’m terrified but I’m choosing you anyway because you’re worth being brave for.
He’s kissing me back now. Hard. Hungry. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back, and I gasp because I’ve never been kissed like this, never felt so wanted, and we’re pressed together in his study with the door closed and nothing between us except everything we haven’t said.
I love him.
I love him and I’m showing him with this kiss, with my hands trembling against his chest.
Please see me.
Please understand what this means.
Please know I’m giving you everything I have.
His grip tightens in my hair, and his other hand spans my waist, pulling me closer, and I’m lost in him, drowning in him, finally, finally letting myself feel—
He pushes me away.
Abruptly.
Hard enough that I stumble.
“Enough.”
His voice is ice. Pure, cutting ice.
I stare at him, confused, my lips still tingling from his kiss, my heart still racing, and—
“I thought you were worth the wait, but I think not.”
W-What is he saying?
“I only pretended to want you so I could take your virginity.”
No no no.
I feel myself go pale, feel the blood drain from my face, and it’s like I’m six years old again listening to Joseph tell me I was boring, or seventeen listening to another boy tell me I was a tease for not giving him what he wanted, or twenty-three listening to Joseph weaponize my choice to wait, make me feel dirty for saving myself, make me feel like—
Like there’s something wrong with me.
“But that kiss...is overrated.”
Overrated?
“And in case you need it spelled out, you’re fired.”
Tears stream down my face, but I can’t wipe them away, can’t move, can’t do anything except stand there and take it.
“Now get out.”
I thought saving myself was the right thing to do.
Mom always said it was a choice I should make for myself, not because someone told me to but because I wanted to wait for someone who’d cherish it, cherish me, make it special instead of just another thing to check off a list.
But why does it keep being the reason people hurt me?
Why do men keep using it against me like it’s a weapon?
Somehow I make my legs work.
Somehow I turn toward the door.
I don’t know what to do, God.
Help me.
Please.
I somehow make my limbs work and manage to get out of his study, just like he asked. But as the door closes behind me, I hear a sound like something breaking.
Like glass hitting a wall.
Like he threw something.
Like he’s just as destroyed as I am.
But that can’t be right.
Can it?