Elizabeth and Paige are at the counter, their golden heads close like a couple of conspirators. My sister is wearing a pink sheath dress, while Paige is in sweats. They’re laughing over something, and Elizabeth rests her fingertips on the rim of a black mug that says Sexiest Man Alive. As irritated as I am, it warms my heart to see Paige happy. It’s almost like yesterday never happened. I note with approval that she remains seated at the counter when Elizabeth gets up to put away the tea and cookies they were having.
“Morning, sleepy-head,” Elizabeth says, tossing her curls over a shoulder. “Or maybe it’s more like good afternoon.”
“I would’ve gotten up earlier if somebody had woken me.”
Paige’s expression goes neutral. “The housekeeper said that you came home late, so I didn’t want to bother you.”
I hate it that I’m the reason the merry spark vanishes from her eyes and the fact that it’s making me feel like the villain here. My mood takes an ugly dive.
“Coffee?” Elizabeth asks, a determined smile on her lips. She isn’t going to let the tension between me and Paige ruin everything.
“Thanks.” I rub my temples. “Where’s the chef?”
“Taking a break. I think we can fend for ourselves for one meal,” my sister says. “But if you want something fancy…”
I wave it away. “Forget it. I can’t stomach anything other than coffee right now.” Once I feel better, I’ll have a smoothie or something. But I don’t need the chef for that.
Soon, Elizabeth places the coffee in front of me in a mug that reads The Person Drinking Out of This Is an Ugly Ogre, a gag gift from her two Christmases ago. I start chugging it down. As the hot brew settles in my gut, I start to feel almost human again.
The doorbell rings, and a few minutes later, my housekeeper Sue walks in with a huge bouquet of blue hyacinths and white tulips.
“Who are they for?” I ask.
Sue looks mildly apologetic. “The delivery guy didn’t say.”
“Ah, one of Elizabeth’s secret admirers.” Even though she discourages them, she has her share of men who won’t accept no for an answer. They’re mostly harmless, albeit a little slow on the uptake.
“Doubt that,” she says with a soft snort, but her eyes say otherwise.
“Regardless, they’re beautiful,” Paige says.
“They are. At least whoever sent them has good taste.” Elizabeth takes the flowers, pulls the card and reads it. “Dear Paige. Sorry about yesterday and I do hope you feel better.” She pauses for a moment. “Anthony.”
My coffee mug hits the counter with a loud thunk. “What the fuck?”
My sister clears her throat and hands the bouquet to Paige. I wait for her to toss it on the ground. Flowers from Anthony aren’t fit to be turned into compost for my garden.
Instead, she puts them close to her face and inhales. “They smell nice.”
Elizabeth lowers her head for a sniff. “Wow. They really do.”
“Guess I’ll put them in my room.”
I almost spew my coffee. Anthony’s flowers in my fiancée’s room? In my home? I don’t think so.
But apparently Paige is serious. Holding the big bouquet like it’s a baby, she walks out. A moment later I hear her going up the stairs.
I start to get up, but Elizabeth puts a hand on my forearm. “Let it go. Paige can deal with the problem. Don’t you trust her?”
“It’s not Paige. It’s Anthony I don’t trust.”
“At least finish your coffee before you go.” Elizabeth lowers her voice. “Do you honestly think people don’t know what you were up to last night?”
“What?”
“You went to a strip club with Elliot.” Her lips purse in disapproval. “Not the smartest move.”
I curse under my breath. “How did you know?”
“Photos? Elliot going in first, then you following him in later? Everyone has a camera on their phone. Your privacy isn’t safe no matter where you go, especially in this town. You’re just too high profile.”
Shit. I thought I’d gotten away with it. “Think Paige knows?”
“I don’t think so. She hasn’t said or done anything. But you have to be more careful.”
“Nothing happened. I swear. You can ask Elliot.”
“It isn’t about what happened or didn’t happen. It’s the perception.”
Of course. I rub my face. Everything is always about perception.
I gulp down my coffee as quickly as possible. I don’t want to fight with Paige, but I’m not going to be weak and run away when she’s obviously spoiling for one. I can’t think of any other reason for her to want to keep Anthony’s bouquet.
After placing the empty mug on the counter with more force than necessary, I run upstairs to find Paige. She’s in her room, and I see the offending flowers in a crystal vase on the bedside table.
I grind my teeth at the sight. Bad enough that she has Anthony’s flowers in her room, but right next to her bed?
Elizabeth’s warning echoes in my head. So I try for some calm. “I’d appreciate it if you threw those out.”
Paige tilts her head. “Is that your answer to what I said yesterday?”
“No.” I grind my teeth. “Actually, maybe. If you want me to trust you, then act in ways that inspire my trust.”
“How should I act?”
“Not associating with people who want to hurt me would be a start. And for god’s sake, don’t keep stuff sent by them.”
She raises her chin. “That’s all it’ll take for you to trust me?”
The defiance in her gaze rubs me raw. “Not quite.” I never give a definite answer to anything. “But close.”
“Right. So even if I do everything perfectly, there still won’t be any trust.” She looks at me with a coldness I’m not accustomed to seeing from her. “What you want is control. You want to decide who I see, who I can associate with, who I talk to. There’s nothing equal about that sort of relationship.”
The accusation pisses me off. I’ve never done anything to control her. She’s the one who decided to push my buttons by bringing Anthony’s flowers to her room, knowing how I feel about him. Knowing what happened between the two of us. “I’ve never treated you any different from before, so you being upset like this all of a sudden is bullshit, and you know it. If you want my attention, fine. Get it in a more productive way, not like this.”
She pales. “You think it’s all about attention?”
“What else could it be?” I really can’t imagine. “Payback because I invited your folks over without your permission?”
Breaking eye contact, she paces back and forth twice, then stops. Her gaze comes back to me, and this time there’s hot fury in it. “The fact that you don’t treat me any different is the problem. You want me to be your wife, allegedly, but you’re still treating me like I’m your assistant.”
I open my mouth to refute her. She’s being emo—
“I’m not finished.” Her hands are on her hips and her chest rises and falls. “My situation now is worse than when I was your assistant, because you never cared who sent me flowers before. Now I can’t even seem to breathe without your permission.”