Page 8 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

“Well, for one, he’s not really intoPride and Prejudice.” This is true. He refuses to watch it, which, personally, I think should be a deal breaker. Even jerkwad Caleb would sit through it with me sometimes.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Amelia says, tapping her chin with her finger like she hadn’t thought of that.

“How about we eat dinner and watch Darcy,” I say, trying to put this conversation on hold in hopes that maybe she’ll forget.

“Good plan,” she says, and we fill our plates with food, then settle onto the couch.

Soon our bellies are full, and we find ourselves sprawled out on the comfy couches, completely engrossed in a movie we’ve watched so many times, we could probably quote it in our sleep.

“Can you believe you’ll be living in this world soon?” Amelia says as Elizabeth walks to Netherfield.

I shake my head. “It’s going to be amazing,” I say, excitement creeping in despite my Darcy-less situation.

According to the schedule in the packet, on day one we’ll have a character briefing and wardrobe fitting, as well as etiquette lessons to fully immerse us into the world of Jane Austen. I’m most excited for the ball gowns, and least for the corsets.

We watch, pausing occasionally to wonder how the reenactments will work. There are five buildings on the property, each representing a location from the book. We stay in whichever one corresponds to our scene. I’ll share a room at Longbourn with whoever plays Jane, and when I visit Charlotte at Hunsford Parsonage, I’ll stay there. The more we watch, the more excited I get.

Just as Darcy proposes to Elizabeth, the front door of the condo opens, and Zane walks in, finally home from work. His dark-brown hair is slightly tousled, as usual, and his polo is half tucked into jeans. His blue eyes—the same shade as Amelia’s—flicker toward us in our lounging state. Even in the dim light from the TV, he looks annoyingly handsome, all effortless athletic build and sharp jawline.

“What’s up, loser,” Amelia says to her brother, stopping the movie so we don’t miss anything, even though we could probably repeat the lines verbatim.

He glances at the paused screen, Darcy’s rain-soaked face frozen in a dramatic expression, then back at us. “Not this movie again.”

“Yes, this movie again,” Amelia parrots. “Please go away.” She shoos him off with a wave of her hand.

“Sorry,” I tell him, not that I’m apologizing for watchingPride and Prejudicefor the umpteenth time, but I am sorry that we’ve taken over the living room. Maybe Zane had plans to be here or something? My face heats up from that one word.Whyyyyy?

Zane looks at me, his eyebrows pulling downward briefly before he strides over to the coffee table, zeroing in on the empty plates and the remaining Thai food. Earlier, I’d asked Amelia if we should put it away, and she’d told me to leave it out for round two. Not her normal MO—Amelia likes things neat and clean, but sometimes she surprises me.

“Thai Paradise?” Zane asks, referencing the restaurant nearby where Amelia usually orders takeout. The corners of his mouth pull up to show straight white teeth, the result of three years of braces.

“Help yourself,” she says.

Zane doesn’t need to be asked twice. After filling his plate, he sidles over to the couch, nudging Amelia’s legs with his knee until she reluctantly shifts them aside so he can plop down beside her.

“Couldn’t you try another movie sometime? LikeStar Warsor something?” he asks once settled.

“No,” Amelia says, and I can hear her irritation in that one word. “Why don’t you go hibernate in your room like you always do?”

“Because I don’t want my room to smell like food.”

“It already smells like feet, so I think the food would be a step up.”

Ah, siblings. I never had any, though I always wanted one. When I was young, I would ask my parents for a brother or sister, but they never obliged. Then, like half of married couples, they got divorced, and neither remarried. So not even half siblings or stepsiblings for me. Watching Amelia and Zane bicker always makes me a little jealous because I know that behind all the snark, there’s love. I think so, at least. Sometimes, I’m not so sure.

I’ve known the Porters since I was eight, when my family moved next door. On our first day in our new house, while my still-married parents were unpacking, they sent me outside because I was getting in the way. That’s when I found Zane teaching Amelia how to rollerblade. I walked over to them and said hello, and then they ditched their skates, and we spent the rest of the afternoon jumping on their trampoline. That’s how we met. That’s how it all started.

Zane is only two years older than Amelia and me, and for many years, we were inseparable. The three of us did everything together. We walked to school together, and then afterward we’d meet up in one of our backyards—usually the Porters’—and make up games and build forts. As we got older, Zane started to ditch us for his friends more often, but he’d still find time to spend with us.

Then my dad left my mom and me for a woman he met online. Janette was her name. Think Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but worse—arrogant and just generally insufferable. Their affair lasted three months before she moved on.

After the divorce, my mom couldn’t afford to stay in El Dorado Hills, so we moved to an apartment in Citrus Heights. I call that time the “dark years” of my life; had I become a villain, it would have been my origin story. My mom struggled—that’s when all the drinking and recreational drugs started—and I had to try to hold things together. My coping mechanism? Becominga perfect peacemaker. If I kept everyone happy, maybe things wouldn’t fall apart. But they did anyway.

The only bright spot was the weekends I spent with Amelia and Zane. Sometimes my mom would drive me, or the Porters would come get me. Despite the distance, Amelia and I stayed close—best friends. And Zane? Well, he was my friend too, at least at first. But then I ruined it by developing the most ridiculous crush on him. Let me be a cautionary tale: Never fall for your best friend’s brother. It doesn’t end well, and things with Zane ... got weird because I made them weird. Why, oh why, did I write him that stupid love letter?So here it is, Zane. My heart on a page.Barf. I can’t even think about it without feeling sick.

I doubt Zane told Amelia about the letter, because if he had, she would have surely said something to me, or at least teased me about it. But she never did, which means he didn’t tell her, and I’m forever grateful to him for that. It’s been ten years, and it’s still my most embarrassing moment. One I hate thinking about.

It wasn’t hard to fall for Zane, though. Back then, he was thoughtful and kind and would do things like bake me cookies for my birthday and was always quick to remember small details about me. I guess he still might be like that, but I wouldn’t know. Like all unrequited love stories, we’ve drifted apart.

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