Page 28 of The Fiancée Farce
“Please tell me you’ve at least got a backup plan,” Samina begged. “Something. Anything. I’d like to go to bed tonight knowing that—thatselling yourselfisn’t your only option.”
Selling herselfsounded sordid, but hey, if the shoe fit.
Samina laughed, high-pitched and frazzled. “What am I saying? Of course this isn’t your only option. You can always come here. You know that, right? You might have to bunk with the boys, and Maisie’s farts are fucking lethal, but my home is your home, hon. Always and forever.”
“Always and forever.” Tansy blinked away tears, the ache in her chest growing fiercer. “And yeah, of course I’ve got a backup plan.”
She glanced over to where her notebook lay open atop the coffee table. WithMissScarlet and the Dukeplaying in the background, she’d spent the better part of the evening brainstorming ways to increase the store’s quarterly profits on the off chance this plan fell through and she found herself in the position of needing to convince Katherine that keeping the store could be—in the long term—equally as profitable as selling to Scylla. Things like community outreach, book club expansion, and increased partnership with local authors for launches and signings. It was a long shot,hopeless, but she couldn’tnotdo everything in her power to save the store. If that meant planning for the worst-case scenario, so be it.
“Good. That’s... that’s—hell.” Samina groaned. “You deserve so much better than this, you realize that, right?”
It wasn’t about deserving; it was about playing the hand she’d been dealt to the best of her ability.
“Thanks for saying so,” she said. Sam wouldn’t get it if she shared her actual thoughts ondeserving. She’d think Tansy was denigrating herself or something, being a pessimist, when that wasn’t it at all. Tansy just knew how the world worked. If life were aboutdeserving, guys like Tucker wouldn’t get away with what they did while girls like her... well, everything would be different.
It couldn’t be about deserving. It just couldn’t.
“I mean it, hon. Only the best, okay?”
“Okay.” Tansy frowned when another call beeped in. She tugged the phone away from her ear and—her heart beat a little faster. Gemma was calling. “Hey, Sam? I hate to run, but Gemma’s calling. I should probably take it.”
Dollars to doughnuts Gemma was calling to discuss something vital like asking when Tansy was free to take a trip down to the courthouse. The idea of her callingjust because, to chat, was laughable.
“Be safe. I love you,” Samina said. “And if anyone, and I meananyone, treats you with less respect than you deserve, give ’em hell for me, all right?”
“Will do.” She stood, frowning as a pistachio shell that had been trapped in the bodice of her nightgown hit the floor.Classy.“Talk soon?”
“Soon,” Samina agreed. “Hug Am’mah Zahra for me, will you?”
She ended the call with a promise to hug Samina’s aunt and swiped to answer Gemma’s call before voicemail picked it up.
“Hello?”
“You said you live above your bookstore. You weren’t lying about that, were you?”
She frowned sharply. “Of course not. Why would I lie about a thing like that?”
Gemma hummed. “I don’t know. I find myself questioning lots of things as of late.”
That was disconcertingly cryptic.Worryinglycryptic. “To be honest, I don’t really know what to say to that.”
Gemma laughed, humorless. “You and me both. Are you home?”
“Yes?”
“Good. Let me in. We need to talk.”
“I don’t—”
Gemma ended the call.
Tansy glanced down and cringed. Her pale mint-green negligee was stunning... and sheer. Vintage clothing was her sole extravagance. Well, that and rare books, but those she could write off. Nighties from the 1940s, not so much.
Point being, Tansy dressed for herself, not anyone else. She liked her high-collar cardigans just as much as she liked her gauzy nighties and lacy underthings, and it didn’t matter if anyone else saw them—they made her feel beautiful. Just like those high-necked,boringcardigans made her feel safe. Protected. Each had their purpose, their place.
As pretty as her negligee was, it wasn’t the sort of thing she answered the door in, let alone entertained while wearing. Not that she had many visitors, and certainly not of the unexpected variety.
But Gemma didn’t strike her as the patient type. She struck her as the opposite, really.
