Page 21 of Book Boyfriends
These men were mere pages away fromtheirhappy endings, and, somehow, I yanked it away from them. All so I could have my own. Doing to them what was done to me.
Guilt causes tears to prick, but I push them back. “I am so sorry,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to my feet.
Lord James steps close, cupping my chin and guiding my gaze to meet his emerald eyes. “None of that, my lady. You did nothing to be remorseful for,” he murmurs, moving his hands to my upper arms, their warmth soothing me.
“I wished for my happy ending and stole yours. You’d said it. You’re here to help me find my happy ending and yours.”
“The two may not be mutually exclusive.” His thumbs knead my biceps, uncoiling the tension-filled muscles.
“Perhaps we should add no touching while staring longingly into Georgia’s eyes to the rules,” Lars snarks.
“Good idea.” With a stuttered breath, I step out of Lord James’s arms, a chill slinking down my spine at the loss of his body heat. I move to face the window. And away from the way his decadent scent envelopes me with the sense that no matter how unreal this is, it will all be okay as long as I’m in his arms.
That’s how I wrote him… wrote all three of them.Lord James with his steadying energy below a snobbish exterior. Lars’s blend of flirty, rough charm folding you into the knowledge that he’ll make you laugh but always protect you. Then there’s Owen. Just like the pastry his character type is named after he’s sweet and pure comfort no matter what life throws at you.
They’re not real.Even if they stand in front of me, even if I can touch them. They aren’t flesh and blood.But they are, the thought almost taunts with the promise of three perfect men.Perfect for someone else.Three someone else’s whose stories are already written. I won’t have my heart broken by a man in love with someone else…Not again.
“You already have your happy ending. I wrote it.” I spin, facing the three of them.
Face pinched, Owen tilts his head. “You wrote it?”
“Your stories.” I gesture wildly, swinging the bat in front of me. “Selena. Ivy. Lady Cecily.”
Lars grabs the bat from my hand. “Easy, slugger. I think we’ve established you don’t need this.” He tosses the bat onto the sofa and steps back, giving me a little space.
“What do you mean you wrote it?” Lord James lifts an eyebrow.
“I…” My eyes widen.
The confused expressions etched onto each man’s features telegraphs that they have no idea they are merely characters in stories. While they may only be stories to me, it’s these three men’s lives. How would I feel if someone swooped in to tell me that the world I know isn’t real? That the people I love aren’t real? ThatI’mnot real?
“Nothing… I’m just… This is a lot.” Even I hear the lie in my tone, but I push on. “Don’t you love your ladies? What about them?”
It serves no purpose to pop their realities’ truth bubble. Being magically teleported into this world, away from everyone they know, to help a woman they’ve never met find her happy ending is scary enough. I can’t imagine what it would be like to discoverthatwoman is the writer of their stories.
Lars shrugs. “Ivy made her choice, and I made mine.”
“I enjoyed Lady Cecily’s company, but she’s promised to the Marquis,” Lord James says nonchalantly.
“I just want Selena to be happy.” Gray clouds shadow Owen’s features.
My mouth drags down into a frown. “What about your happiness?”
“I’m happy.”
It’s almost like looking in a mirror. How often had I said that to Hope after Will broke up with me? Each time she assessed me, I’d turn away and insist that I was happy, even though my heart had shattered into so many pieces I never thought I could glue it back together.
I gnaw on my lower lip. “How are you supposed to help me?”
Lord James unnecessarily smooths down his jacket. “Our theory is that one of us is your happy ending.”
“Wh…wh…what?” I choke out.
“You’re unmated,” Lars says.
“Rude.” Hands on hips, I shoot him the most indignant glower I can manage.
Being called single is one thing, but unmated conjures images of a single shoe discarded by the door without its other half in sight. As much as I say I’m okay if my life comes with me not finding that one person, the idea that they may not exist at all snatches that last bit of hope from me.
