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There it is. That’s the feeling I’ve been battling with all these weeks, wrapped up in a succinct little sentence. Guilt and shame and embarrassment.
Because, despite what I know, no matter the justification, I still haven’t been able to put my feelings for Dmitri to bed.
Bee looks me dead in the eye. Her grip on my shoulders tightens. “You love him,” she emphasizes slowly.
It’s not a question. “Y-yes,” I sob. “God, how can I still love him… after everything that I know…?”
“Because love isn’t a switch you can turn on and off, Wren,” Bee chides. “You know now that Rose kept things from you. Maybe she even lied to you. You may be angry with her for that—but it doesn’t mean you love her any less, does it?”
“N-no…”
“Then why should Dmitri be any different?”
“Because!” I insist without anything substantial to back the word. I shake my head. “Because he—goddammit, I don’t know anymore. I don’t know…”
Bee guides me to the bed and coaxes me into sitting down. “It’s a lot. You’re carrying his baby, but you’re going to have to watch him get married to another woman. Even if that woman is physically repulsed by men in general, it’s going to be hard.”
A tear slips down my cheek. I just want to curl up into a ball and go to sleep forever. Is that so much to ask?
“It shouldn’t be,” I squeak in a small voice. “It’s clear that he doesn’t care enough about me to so much as try to make this right.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Wren. He does care. He cares a lot. That’s exactly why he’s pretending so hard not to.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I agree. Men are weird. And dumb. Which are two of the many reasons why I prefer women. But in this case, I happen to know Dmitri. And I know that he feels undeserving of happiness and love. That’s exactly why he backed off when you found out the truth. He decided that it would be easier for you to hate him than it would be for him to love you.”
I can’t even begin to wrap my head around that can of worms.
There’s a very specific knock on the door. A rhythmic, coded pattern that means it’s Aleksandr and Bee doesn’t have to scramble to get her fake stomach on.
She opens the door for him and the moment he’s inside, she locks it again. “You’re not dressed yet?” Aleks asks with his eyes bulging. “The ceremony’s starting in ten minutes!”
Bee rolls her eyes. “I’m the freaking bride. They’ll wait.”
“You’re the—oh, goddammit, you are so stubborn.” Aleksandr throws me a concerned glance. “You okay?”
I swallow my tears and nod. “I’m fine. Bee! Come on, let’s get ready.”
Bee grimaces uncomfortably. “I need more time to mentally prepare.”
“You’ve had over a year,” Aleks says. “Which reminds me: Dmitri wanted me to give you a message.”
Bee walks over to her dress and rips it irritably off the hanger. “Hit me.”
“He asked me to tell you, and I quote, ‘Grow a pair of balls and walk down the aisle like you mean it. Time to put on a show.’ End quote.”
Bee snorts. “He certainly has a way with words, doesn’t he?” She takes a deep breath. “I guess there’s no more procrastinating…” She closes her eyes for a moment and her jaw trembles subtly. When she opens her eyes again, they’re clear and steady as she turns them on me. “Wren?—”
“Do not worry about me,” I insist. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
I’m really not. But if Dmitri and Bee can pretend for as long as they have, then so the fuck can I.
Love or no love, this is what’s happening.
I nod proudly. “Let’s go get you married.”
