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And actually falling for August, giving in to this magnetism that wants to draw me closer and closer to him?
That would definitely screw things up.
Fingering the delicate necklace against my throat, I look down at my lap.
“I just don’t know how to do any of it,” I say. “All I can do is be myself. I don’t know how to be a billionaire’s fiancée, let alone a struggling artist’s inspiration.”
“It’s because you’re you, Elle. That’s why you’re perfect,” August says softly, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. My heart leaps so high it must touch the stars. But before I can ask him to explain, he continues. “You don’t have to carry that alone. I know I’ve swept you along, but all I really need you to do is buy me time. I’ll handle everything else. It’s not your fight. Just bear with me through a few more date nights like this, and keep Aunt Clara distracted while I do what I need to.” He glances at me sidelong, almost knowingly. “Instead of having to deal with everything on your own, consider us partners.”
Yep.
Captain Oblivious.
He has no earthly idea what he’s doing to me right now.
The tension in my chest.
The feeling like the walls that are usually closed up around him in mile-thick layers have thinned a little. I might even see a door starting to open as he lets me in just enough to reach a toe inside.
From the moment I met him, I’ve had this sense that somehow he sees me as the enemy—or at least another burden.
But now he’s telling me we’re partners.
He’s starting to trust me.
That makes me ache so much worse.
If he only knew I was getting so emotionally messy and my breaths stop short every time he looks at me a second too long ...
It’d be a betrayal of that trust.
So I just smile. Even if it takes all my heart, all my brightness, all my desperate need to find the good in everything.
I smile.
And I tease, “It’s more fun if we call each other ‘coconspirators.’ Bonnie and Clyde? Like we’re pulling off a heist.”
August snorts, but that curl to his lips doesn’t fade. “You are, as always, impossibly creative.”
That’s me.
Miss Impossible.
Except everything I’m creating tonight is the wrong feeling as I hold on to my smile and look out the window again, trying to drain these stupid thoughts into the night.
They can hang there like stars, shining and endless and so distant I won’t be able to reach them again.
X
WALKING STORM CLOUD
(AUGUST)
Something’s bothering Elle.
I noticed when she opened the door of her grandmother’s cottage and I saw her pale, drawn face, tinted in shades of amber by the porch light.
I almost thought she was crying.
