Page 66 of Kissing for Keeps
“I thought that’s what allthiswas.” I open one of the boxes and touch the small gold pendant at the end of the chain. It’s simple, and I like it. Suddenly I’m imagining clasping it around Siena’s neck, so I snap it shut. This is what happens when you watch too many chick flicks.
“It kind of is. I’m giving her everything I’m giving the bridesmaids, but she’s my best friendandmy maid of honor, not to mention the de facto wedding planner, so I’ve been trying to think what I can add to it. I want her to know how much I appreciate her, you know?”
“Definitely. You know what Siena really wants, though, right?”
She shakes her head.
“For you to have the best wedding day possible.”
She sighs, taking the box from me and opening it. “I know, and I will, but… I don’t know.” She stares at the necklace, her brow knitting. “Losing that election really messed with her. It’s like she’s out to prove something with this wedding.”
“Prove what?” I can’t help myself. My curiosity about Siena knows no bounds.
“That she’s not a failure, I guess? That’s what her mom thinks she’s doing, anyway. I’ve told Siena I don’t expect things to go perfectly. I’ll be content to have the people I love here and to marry Rémy. That’s all I really care about. Everything beyond that is just cream on top. Anyway, I’m worried about her.”
Now I am, too.
I’m also determined to take on more responsibility. I’ve shied away from that in my family for a long time, but this little taste of connection with Madi? The knowledge that Siena sees this wedding as some sort of reflection on her worth?
Those things are enough to make me itch for more work. Even if it’s assembling bridesmaid gifts.
23
SIENA
If I thoughtthe dress was too small for mebeforeeating, all doubt has now been removed. I imagine this is how wearing a corset feels. Except this isn’t meant to be a corset. It’s meant to be sexy. Post-dinner belly pooches don’t lend themselves to sexiness very well, though.
However unsexy I am, the whole experience is a visual feast. Somehow, Philippe managed to get us a private dinner in the gardens of Marqueyssac.
Okay, who am I kidding? He managed it because he’s a big deal around here.
These are not your average French chateau gardens (because apparently staying at a chateau for a week has made me an expert on those). The hedges around the pink chateau are trimmed in circular shapes, making them look like undulating, green clouds. There are paper lanterns lit around the outdoor seating area, which is set under a canopy of vine-covered trellises. Beyond the hedges, we have a view of the valley below—the Valley of the Five Castles, Philippe tells me it’s called.
The only thing to mar the experience—besides my makeshift corset—has been the peacocks strolling around, squawking like they’re personally responsible for destroying any romantic moment anyone might have considered having.
But, honestly, even if those things weren’t factors, I don’t think much would be different. Philippe is handsome, and this place is magical, but I don’t feel any desire for romance with him. I keep wishing Jack were here. He’d love the peacocks; Philippe hasn’t even given any indication he’s aware of them, which is pretty miraculous in and of itself. They areloudand genetically evolved to grab your attention. Even if it means screaming.
Basically, they’re a lot like Jack.
He’s a dork. But I love him.
Whoa.
Notlovelove him. Justloveas in he’s pretty funny and I happen to enjoy spending time with him even though he’s aggravating and cocky and attractive and… whatever. It doesn’t matter. Tonight is about enjoying time withnot-Jack. It’s about resetting my compass, because mine seems to point south, as in things-are-going-to-go-south-very-quickly-if-you-don’t-get-a-handle-on-yourself.
“Wow,” I say after the waiter takes away our dishes. “That was delicious.”
Philippe smiles, and I have to hand it to him: the guy is attractive. He really won the life lottery with his good genetics and the whole chateau inheritance thing he has going on.
“I’m glad you liked it.” He stands and comes over to pull out my chair. The combination of that and this ancient chateau make me feel like I’ve stepped back a couple of centuries.
We walk to the car as I try to suck in my stomach so this doesn’t look like a maternity dress. I probably should have eaten a couple of bites and called it quits, but I love food too much. Sue me.
But not really. I’m so broke.
It’s dark by now, and since our drive is primarily through countryside, it’s just us, the headlights, and the road, with a car passing by every couple of minutes and a chateau lighting up the hill about as often.
When we get back to Vidal, I force myself not to look at the cottage and wonder what Jack has been up to this whole time. When Philippe asks me if I’d like to go on a walk around the gardens, I say yes, just to spite my wish to satisfy that curiosity.
