A pity that all Celine wanted to do was scream her frustration out of her lungs and break that peace. She slid off her gloves and flung them to the side. Then dug her nails into her palms and let out a silent shriek, heavy with all the heartache that had been choking her tonight.
Exhausted—she was utterly exhausted by everything.
Afraid someone might see her and whisk her inside again, Celine wandered the courtyard a little further, where water trickling from a marble fountain filled the silence. She had expected to be enveloped in total darkness, but the pathway was beautifully lit by strings of lights wrapped around the hedges. Mindlessly, she plucked one of the white geraniums and curled her fingers over it. An abrupt urge to crush the flower into her fist overcame her.
“What’s wrong with me?” Celine whispered. One by one she uncurled her fingers; the geranium blossom opened up again. It did not deserve her anger. “It is but a simple yes. Why can’t I say it?”
What was wrong with her indeed?
You shouldn’t feel obliged to fix your parents’ issues. There are other ways. There are always other ways. Your parents are simply choosing a shortcut.
Despite Bastien’s words, she had spent the rest of the days leading up to this evening staring at her parents—at her father—feeling her mind agonisingly tear itself in half over the decision. She had assumed the competition would have been over by the time Jacques proposed; that she would have known whether she had won or not; whether to tell him yes or no. And then it had been postponed a week due to the allegedfire, so here she was, overwhelmed and on the brink of heaving.
Celine tossed the geranium into the fountain and sat herself on the marble lip.
She would be miserable with Jacques, Celine knew that much. She had never loved him, despite her many attempts to. She hadn’t felt a single one of those traits that made a romance great in books—no sparks when they touched, no losing herself into him when they kissed, nothing to set her heart aflame. And once they were married and Jacques realised this too, he would hate her. They’d be stuck together, tethered by misery and resentment and guilt and…
Celine could be saving them both a lot of hurt if she stopped being a coward.
But then there was Bastien, who hadn’t even deigned to come. Who caused all coherent thoughts to flee her mind and make her do stupid things. Who set, not only her heart, but her entire body up in flames at one single touch.
Celine dropped her head into her hands. She was being silly. Perhaps Bastien had that effect on everyone and Celine was no more immune to it than all of his other paramours.
As if in answer, a pair of glossy black shoes materialised in front of her. Celine parted her fingers to look at them better, determining just by the cocky stance who the person was.
“The party started hours ago,” she mumbled into her palms. “Don’t you know it is rude to show up late?”
“Impressive,” he muttered. “Did you take a guess or memorised all of my shoes?”
“I simply have a sixth sense when it comes to profligates.”
“Useful skillset?”
“Extremely,” Celine indulged him flippantly, slowly straightening up. “Especially when it comes to you.”
She raked her eyes over Bastien, who was in a navy blue vest and a pristine shirt of the same colour. He looked surprisingly groomed. Gravel crunched as he shifted around and settled next to her.
“I do come bearing gifts, however.” Bastien grinned. “Does that make up for being late?”
Interest piqued, Celine asked, “You got me a gift?”
He placed a velvet box on the fountain lip and slid it towards her. “It’s your birthday, no?”
Yes, but she hadn’t expected Bastien to show up, much less to bring her a present. “I-I suppose. But…you’re broke.”
“Ouch.”
“I just meant you shouldn’t have wasted your money on a gift for me.”
“It’s not a waste, Celine,” he said, immediately flashing a cheeky smile. “Not when it’s for you. Plus, it would be a shame for it to remain inside a glass case at the store. Open it.”
Celine ran a finger over the velvet lining of the box and clicked the tiny hinge open. Inside, glimmering like a sprinkle of diamonds, rested a heart shaped wristwatch, the golden hands already ticking. It looked exactly like the one she had seen at—
“Is this the one from Maison Molyneux?”
She recalled that day. She had been so upset with him that she had hastily picked a few gifts for Jacques, without evenlooking at what she was buying, and had stormed out of the store, forgetting the watch for herself.
“I had it engraved for you,” Bastien said, tipping the box sideways to show her the lettering on the silver strap.
