Page 12 of Right With You
“Can you just tell your family we broke it off or something?” she asked, bringing us back to the larger issue.
She looked pained, and I felt it like a jab straight to the diaphragm. Of course this wouldn’t be good news for her, and I hadn’t even explained the worst part.
“Ideally no. They’ll come to Silverton, see that you exist, be generally dismissive, and leave.” Best case scenario.
Maybe I should’ve mentioned the trust, but it could wait. No need to complicate things before she’d even agreed.
“So, you want them to continue thinking we’re engaged despite our having virtually zero relationship beyond me being your donut supplier?”
A small smile broke through the frustration welling up in me because this was something I liked about her. She had this sharp wit and humor, even when I’d presented her with a problem she shouldn’t have to deal with.
“I do want them to, yes. And I’m hoping you’d be willing to, at the very least, not instantly deny it if someone should ask you.” My throat tightened, and I exhaled slowly to calm my nerves. “I think I can avoid all but a brief meeting.”
I hoped. I would need to beg Aurelie for her help, but my sister would do it. I knew she would. And if her husband Michele came, we’d have reinforcements and distraction enough to keep Grand-père’s attention diverted.
“Oh. Wow. Okay.” She shifted on her feet and wobbled before righting herself.
My hand shot out, but I stopped just shy of grasping her arm to steady her, mindful not to touch her. “Are you alright?”
She folded her arms again. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just… I’m not interested in dating. I don’t date, and I’m not going to start. So this is…”
“I know. I—I’m sorry. I’ve heard you say as much, and in some way, I thought maybe it was better to choose you than someone who might want something real. This way, it’s clear.” And I wouldn’t look too hard at the reasons I never even considered someone else. I wouldn’t let that nag at me, or make me feel foolish.
“I guess that makes sense. But… is there anything I can do? I mean, this is weird, definitely weird, but you seem…” Her lovely dark eyes slid over my face. “You seem stressed.”
A huffed laugh escaped.
She couldn’t possibly be real, could she? Was she actually standing here asking how I was doing when I’d just foisted this mess onto her shoulders?
“T’inquiètes pas,” I said. “Don’t worry, please. This is a mess of my own making.”
Our gazes held, the connection and her nearness causing my heart rate to triple as we stood there, not ending the conversation, but not continuing it.
There was more to discuss, of course, but now didn’t feel like the right time. I needed to give her space to absorb everything, and in that time, I needed to see what I could control.
Then I realized perhaps she was waiting for me to say more—to do something to end this.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
It made no sense, but being near her felt good—felt right in a way I’d never felt around anyone except Kenny and Stone and Beast, and even this was different. It was that same sense of understanding, and though I didn’t have a right to it, some part of me gripped it in an iron fist.
I’d finally found the ability to speak normally—or somewhat normally—in her presence. Until the last few days, I clammed up around her, likely thanks to a spike in adrenaline and a sense of foreboding. But I’d evidently pushed past that thanks to my stubborn determination to maintain my lie to my family. Seeing that jerk trying to lay a hand on her while she cowered into a brick wall had also loosed something in me. Of course it had, or I wouldn’t have claimed I was hers. Abandoning the mediocre conversational skills I’d rediscovered now felt like a cruel joke, even if this was dangerous territory.
“How are you? Not, about this.” I shook my head, an odd fluster of feelings piling up. “Has he been back?”
She swallowed, the long, smooth line of her throat working. “No.”
She gave me nothing more, and I had no right to the information, even though I wanted it. If he was bothering her, I wanted to take care of it. I’d seen no one else intervene on her behalf since I’d noticed the dynamic between them. I wanted to understand what was still linking her to him, why she would entertain him for even seconds, but again, it wasn’t my right.
Nor should I want it to be.
“He’s persistent, but I don’t think he’ll show up in person again.” Her mouth quirked into a smile. “I think you scared him.”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I regret nothing.”
Not true.
