Page 41 of The Forsaken Heir
“I’m fine,” I said, heaving a piece of wood from the crates into the dumpster.
“Okay, then,” she said.
As I helped reorganize the store and the back workroom with the new machines, the other members of the staff kept trying to banter with me. It was something I typically thrived in. I loved the funny back-and-forth, the dirty jokes, the sarcastic remarks, the silliness. Today, I wasn’t in the mood. Every few seconds, an image of Aurelius’s face flashed across my mind and sent me back down the rabbit hole.
Mostly, I was angry at myself. I’d let my guard down for one whole day and fell for the guy. What was I, some cliché out of a rom-com? I’d known full well who he was,whathe was, yet I still allowed it to happen. There was no fucking chance that Prince Aurelius Decimus, heir to the dragon throne, would ever want to date a broken wolf shifter. Regardless of their individual views on me not being able to shift, I was still a wolf. My family and theirs were, and always had been, at each other’s throats.It was silly and stupid of me to think anything different might have happened. Hell, he hadn’t even given me a real kiss when he left. Maybe I’d imagined all of it. He was probably only nice to me because his friends had snatched me up. There’d been no connection there, just a prince who felt bad for me. A prince who’d pitied me.
Great.
“Elle, dear?”
Flinching, I turned and looked at Lorraine, gripping the broom tightly. I’d come here to sweep up after bringing the new machines in, but I hadn’t gotten much of anything done.
“Yeah?” I said, hurrying to do a semblance of sweeping.
“Come talk to me,” she said, waving for me to join her in her office.
After closing the door to give us some privacy, Lorraine sat on the edge of her desk.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You don’t seem to be your usual self. First you ask to come in on your day off, then you sort of move around here like a robot. The others have noticed howoffyou seem too.”
I looked down at my feet, toes scraping at the carpet. “I’m a little down. That’s all.”
Lorraine put a hand on my arm, her thin fingers cool on my skin.
“I get it. It’s hard sometimes. The world can be a heavy place.” She nudged my hand. “Why don’t you come have dinner with me tonight? Get your mind off things?”
Having dinner with a friend sounded nice. I was always so isolated, which made it easier to keep my secrets and prevent the heartache I’d felt upon being exiled. The same heartache I was feeling now that Aurelius was no longer around. Sometimes it was easier to be lonely than to put yourself out there and experience the pain that could come.
“I’ve got a lot to do,” I lied. “So much on my plate right now. I’d love to, if I wasn’t busy.”
Lorraine didn’t look offended or put out by me declining her invitation. Instead, she winked at me knowingly. “That’s fine. One of these days I’ll pry you out of that shell of yours.’
“What shell?”
“You know what I mean,” she said with a chuckle. “You use your humor and sarcasm as a crutch. You hide behind it. I could see it the first week you worked here. I’m patient. One day.”
Her directnessdidbreak through a bit, and I chuckled.
“You got me,” I said, pointing at her. “You’ve cracked through and seen the truth. I don’t know why I tried to hide it from the great Lorraine McCormick. I should have known. She’s a psychic, and a powerful one, at that.”
Laughing, she made a shooing motion with her hands. “Get out of here. Go do some work and leave an old woman alone, you little smart-ass.”
“Lorraine,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m not little, and neither is my ass.”
“You know what I mean,” she said and made like she was going to slap my arm as I left.
Our talk improved my mood a bit, and I did a better job of keeping my sadness hidden. By the time I returned home late that afternoon, though, the heaviness of the day had come crashing back down. By any estimation, it had been a good day, but as I stepped into the elevator to go up to our floor, my loneliness nearly swallowed me whole.
Delphine noticed it as soon as I walked in. She was pouring a pot of steaming pasta into a colander in the sink to drain when I stepped in. Her eyes narrowed a bit at whatever expression was on my face.
“Rough day?” she asked.
“Sort of,” I muttered as I slumped into a chair at the table. “Thanks for making dinner.”
Delphine placed a plate of spaghetti with meatballs and red sauce before me, along with a basket of rolls and a bowl of salad. She always made the meals. I could cook, but she almost always took charge and handled it. I rarely even noticed it anymore. It was just something that happened. But at that moment, I felt more like a burden to her than a friend. It was as though I was still a young kid she had to take care of, and that thought filled me with overwhelming guilt. Theonlyperson I could truly be honest and open with, the closest thing I’d had to a mother since being turned away from my own family, and I treated her like a slave.
“Here, let me do that.” I stood quickly and took the block of parmesan cheese and grater from her.
