Funny. That would be the natural reaction, wouldn’t it? But I’d said from the beginning it was okay if he was using me…even just for kicks. Turns out his reasons were much more honorable than that. So, no, I didn’t hold anything against him. I was doing the same thing to him, after all.
It was more like… “His quest is complete.”
“His quest? I’m not sure I understand, but then again, I’m learning there’s a lot I don’t get these days.” His eyes sparkled. “Listen, he stormed out of here before I had a chance to explain any of this stuff to him. It might help in some way.” This time he did laugh. “If anything, it might make him think of me in a better light.”
Turned out Ken Abrams was a pretty decent guy. Human. Capable of mistakes and putting his foot in his mouth, but a decent guy. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. Oh, and Ashleigh? I apologize for what I said earlier.”
“It’s okay.” I smiled at him to let him know I didn’t harbor any hard feelings, and he made his way back into the cabin.
“Ashleigh!” Claire tore across the yard toward me, her face split in the biggest grin I’d ever seen. She skidded to a stop right before colliding into me and held out her left hand. A ring circled her finger with three small diamonds winking in the afternoon sunlight. My thumb caressed the metal around my fourth finger. Landon’s ring. I’d need to get it back to him. Or at least to Carol.
“Can you believe it?” Claire beamed. “I’m getting married.”
I pulled her into a hug and squeezed. “I’m so happy for you.”
She pulled back and searched my eyes. Lifted my hand between us, then gripped my ring finger. “What are you going to do about this?”
I shrugged. “Give it back to Carol.”
“Not the ring, doofus. Landon. What are you going to do about Landon?”
I shrugged again.
“Seriously?” She dropped my hand in disgust.
“What do you want me to say? It was fake, Claire.”
“No one believes that. It was supposed to be fake, but both of you have some very real feelings for each other. So I’m going to ask again, what are you going to do about it?”
My shoulders lifted a third time, and she pointed her finger at my chest. “Don’t you dare shrug again. Come on, girl. Did you see him? He was like some hottie from Camelot.”
This is why I love my sister. She has no knowledge of the twelfth century French romances centered around the Arthurian world, but she’ll do a quick internet search to prove her point or get her way.
I grinned at her. “But I’m not a damsel in distress.”
“Who said you had to be?” She planted her hands on her hips. “You know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“I think you need to break out of your clichéd life.”
“Who said my life was clichéd?”
“Pretty sure you’ve mentioned it a time or two this week.”
“Well, that was just in reference to this whole fake husband thing.”
“Are you going to keep interrupting me?”
“Are you going to get to the point?”
She glared at me. “The point is, you like him. A lot. So don’t sit around waiting for something to happen. Pick up the pen and write your own happily-ever-after.”
“Except I’m a lit professor, not an author.” I smirked. Couldn’t help it. Annoying little sisters was part of the sibling handbook.
“Sometimes I want to strangle you.”
“Good thing you love me then.”
“Yeah. Good thing.”
