His smile dropped, and something like concern filled his face. “How are you doing?”
I paused.
He was the first person to ask me that. Suddenly it was all too much. My throat thick, from the onslaught of emotions. West du Lac was the first person, the only person to ask me how I was doing.
He lifted my chin so I was looking into his eyes.
“I haven’t been online,” I answered honestly.
“That’s good,” West said. He dropped my chin and took a step back. Allowing me space to breathe.
I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t going to cry in front of West fucking du Lac.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
Why are you pretending to care?
West leaned against a window with folded arms, the lush, checkered green lawn behind him. It was dark in this room, a muted dark—the only light glaring from the one diamond-paned window at his back.
“Let me show you Du Lac Manor, Angel.”
“I can’t leave.”
He laughed. “Angel, you’re not at Crowne Hall anymore. No one keeps track of the maids. They go missing all the time.” I wasn’t sure why, but that didn’t fill me with ease. It made me feel worse.
He smiled. “You can do anything with me.”
GRAY
“You need to wear a suit. My mother wants me to wear a gown.” Lottie exhaled, rubbing her right eye. She looked in the mirror, holding up a dress, lips pursed. “This would be a lot easier if I had a girl…”
It was on the tip of my tongue to bring it up, but I knew any mention of Story was bad, would be misconstrued. So I lifted myself up on Lottie’s ivory dresser, pulling one leg up. I stared out her window overlooking the acres of patchwork lawn.
It’s been two hours and still no sign of Story.
She was probably just learning the layout. Being showed where she’d sleep.
But worry ate at my chest.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she was getting fed, if she was sleeping properly. I can’t be the one to make sure of those things now, and she needs someone to do it.
Story has millions of dollars now. Enough money to sleep like a queen, but she chooses to sleep like a servant. All for her uncle.
She called me Atlas, so then what is she? Story Hale only knows how to sacrifice. She doesn’t know how to choose herself.
Lottie lowered the dresses, looking over her shoulder at me. “Don’t get father talking about Great-Grandpa; he won’t quit until you’ve heard all about how the estate brought Châteauesque architecture to North Carolina.”
“Lottie, I’ve been to dinner before.”
Why was she so nervous?
“One more thing,” Lottie said. “Try not to punch my brother at dinner.”
“No promises,” I joked.
Silence passed, but all she said was, “You look kind of like the boy who used to do my homework.”
I turned away from the window. “What am I missing?”
A flicker of a smile. “A joint.”
An idea popped into my head. It had been years, almost a decade, but I wondered… I pulled open Lottie’s drawer beneath me and rooted around until my hand met the small ziplock baggie.
Holy shit.
I lifted it out, pulling out a lighter and a joint. It was probably dry as shit, but whatever.
Her mouth dropped open, and she scrambled to me.
“You hid these in here?” She got to her knees, looking around with her arm. “What else did you hide?” Her eyes found mine from the floor.
I exhaled smoke with a grin. “Cameras.”
She slapped my knee. For a minute, the air was light. So of course it fucking shattered like glass.
Outside, I finally spotted Snitch.
With fucking West.
“I have to wear a suit?” I asked, tone careful, watching them walk the white stone paths along the fountain.
“I think I’ll wear the dove dress,” she said. “So anything dark gray…” Lottie continued, telling me what would match, what her mother would expect. Snitch tripped, and West caught her elbow.
My vision blacked.
Lottie’s voice faded into nothing.
I stamped the joint out against her windowsill like I used to, absently noting there was still a charred mark.
I didn’t realize I was standing until Lottie spoke. “Did you hear me? What are you doing?”
I’m about to go put your brother in the ground.
“Uh…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Gonna get dressed, go to dinner, I guess.”
“We still have an hour before then.”
“Then why don’t you show me what’s changed around here?”
Lottie’s face fell a little. “Nothing’s changed.”
I looked for something to lift the mood, spotting the perfect thing on her bed.
I lifted up a Beanie Baby. “Yeah, you’re still addicted to Beanie Babies.”
“Only this one.” She snatched it from me and shoved it under her pillow. “I don’t really like keeping them around.” As Lottie always did, she tried to hide the melancholy in her voice. Maybe I should have let her.
“Why?”
“I always bought them when I felt unloved, unappreciated, unwanted. I guess it’s a little pathetic how many I had. It’s like a shrine to how little I was loved.”
I stared at the pastel-green stuffed animal. “So why keep that one?”
“I bought it the day after you kissed me.”
Disgust filled me. I’d been about to leave, for what? To go find Snitch. I rubbed my forehead, feeling like an asshole.
“I’ll be better, Lottie.”
Sorrow and sadness filled Lottie’s features. Worst of all…disbelief. She didn’t believe me.
I didn’t believe me.
Still, determined not to give Lottie another reason to buy a stuffed animal, I held my arm out to her, and together we headed downstairs.
“So…don’t bring up Great-Grandpa?” I reiterated as we descended the stairs.
“Not unless you want to die at the table.” Lottie laughed.
I laughed, too, just as Lottie stopped short on the stairs. I nearly toppled us both down. I looked to see what could have made her freeze.
There was a man in the grand foyer, speaking with Mrs. du Lac. He looked like he could’ve been Lottie’s dad’s age, with salt-and-pepper hair, but the similarities ended there. His short brown hair was cut and styled youthfully, and he definitely didn’t dress like du Lacs. He looked like a pilot or explorer in his leather jacket, dark blue shirt, and darker jeans.
“I thought you were in Bosnia.” Mrs. du Lac reached for the man, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“I didn’t want to miss Charlie’s wedding.”
Charlie.
I glanced at Lottie. She stared at him with a look I realized I’d never seen on her face before—anger. Even with everything I’d done, she’d never looked at me like that. I’d received sadness and disappointment.
I looked back at the man as he pulled back on a laugh. “Obviously I failed on that front.”
“Oh, well…” Mrs. du Lac trailed off on an awkward, soft laugh, clearly remembering the shitshow that was our wedding. “You’re here now. How long are you in town?”