Page 27 of The Fiancée Farce
Samina’s laughter tapered off with a sigh. “Talk to me. This isn’t you.”
Maybe it wasn’t who she’d been then, but it was who she was now. Who she had to be.
“It’s a long story.”
“The boys are at a sleepover, Joseph’s on a camping trip with his brothers, and I just opened a bottle of Shiraz. Honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”
Tansy lifted her thumb to her mouth and nibbled on the ragged edge of her nail, waffling. She’d promised not to tell anyone the truth, but this wasn’t just anyone—this was Samina. Her best friend, the girl who, once upon a time, Tansy had told everything to, no matter how awkward or embarrassing or painful.
Five of Gemma’s friends knew the truth; would it really be so awful if Tansy confided in one person? The person she trusted more than anyone?
“You can’t tell a soul what I’m about to tell you, okay?”
“I’m offended that you feel the need to even give me that warning. But yes, cross my heart and hope to die.”
Tansy quickly filled Samina in on everything, from the lie she’d told her family that had first gotten her into this mess to her fortuitous run-in with Gemma at Tucker’s wedding all the way to how Katherine wanted to sell the store. And then to how Tansy planned to save it.
Samina was quiet when she finished, so quiet that Tansy checked her screen to make sure the line hadn’t gone dead.
“Fuck,” Samina swore softly. “I don’t like this, Tansy. I don’t like this one bit.”
Yeah, well, she didn’t exactly love it, either. But now that she was in this mess, she’d get herself out of it. Even if it took marrying a perfect stranger and compromising on all of those hopeless romantic dreams that had once filled her head—childish notions that had only ever gotten her a broken heart and a bad reputation.
Tansy picked at her cuticles. “I won’t lie and say it’s ideal, but—”
“She’s Fucker’s cousin, Tans,” Samina bit out.
It wasn’t funny, not really, but she smiled anyway. “I miss you.”
And her crass sense of humor that was so unlike Tansy’s.
“Of course you do. I’m very missable,” Samina said loftily. “But don’t change the subject. This girl’s a Van Dalen. AVan Dalen, Tansy. A freaking Van—”
“I heard you the first time.”
“Tans—”
“Gemma’s...” She tugged at the roots of her hair, trying and failing to put her feelings into words. “I don’t know. She’s different. She doesn’t get along with the rest of her family.”
“So what? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Samina asked, droll.
“Something like that,” she agreed. Not that she’d thought of it in those exact terms, but sure.
“You don’t trust her, do you?” Samina asked haltingly, caution tinged with curiosity.
“No.” But a part of her, small and terribly naive, some leftover remnant from a time when she’d believed the best in people, wanted to. Which was enough to terrify her and should’ve been enough to send her running for the hills. And yet... here she was. Not running. “Of course not.”
“Good,” Samina said. “Because you shouldn’t. The Van Dalens are—”
“Bad news. I know better than most, remember?”
“I still don’t like it. I understand why you’re doing it, but that doesn’t mean I like it.” Samina sighed. “You said you wanted to buy the store, right? That you need money? I could help. I could talk to Joseph and maybe we could loan you—”
“Six million dollars?”
Samina made a strangled noise that under any other circumstance, for any other reason, would’ve made Tansy laugh. “Sorry, no. Never mind. That’s—shit, Tansy.”
Shitwas a little more... profane than Tansy would’ve preferred, but it summed up her circumstances nicely.
