“Clara, whether I’m your Eugene or not, I’m gonna need you to stay out of your tower, okay? That’s really important to me. You don’t belong up there in a place where people make you feel scared and less-than all the time. Regardless of what happens here, with me, you have a place in Sunset. I can get Viktor to show you whatever homes and apartments are available, and I’ll cover all the costs of getting you placed wherever you like best. You can apply to work at any of the few bakeries around here, and we’ll make sure you get put in production, not front-of-shop. We’ll make your perfect world happen, so you can stay free, no matter what.”
That sounds…absolutely wonderful.
Yet, I pout and roll up his long shirt sleeve until I find a mark from my glitter pen. “First, you forget to be controlling, now you’re forgetting to be possessive? What do you meanwhether you’re my Eugene or not? Who else is allowed to be my Eugene?”
He sighs, deflating into a smile. “You’re right. I’m keeping you in my castle regardless of your wishes. You belong with me, and that’s final. I’ll get you chained up in my room like Mother Gothel did to Rapunzel, no Eugene to save you from my clutches by cutting your pretty hair.”
I turn my face against his shoulder. “The movie doesn’t really show how Rapunzel dealt with the grief of losing the relationship she had with her abusive mother. She just kind of…finds her real family…and lives happily ever after. I don’t think it’s that simple. I think…it probably always hurts.”
His body moves as he releases a breath. “I think…you’re probably right.”
“I do like your castle, though. Just because it hurts doesn’t mean I deserve to live in a tower.”
Turning his head, he kisses my hair. “Did something happen, cupcake?”
My mouth opens, but I can’t find the words right away. Finally, though, they spill free. “My mother called me last night. I missed the call. I haven’t been able to bring myself to call her back. She wants me to send her your autographs, so she can auction them online. She wants me to bear your child and marry you, or use the scandal and child support to make her comfortable and rich for life. She thinks…” I wince. “She thinks that’s what I’ve been doing. Working on getting pregnant. Lying to you about birth control. Doing whatever it takes to get your money for her.”
Silence.
It weighs on my lungs.
I squeeze my eyes shut and weather the regrets. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have. I’m speaking poorly about my mother. She’s not a terrible person. She just grew up poor. She doesn’t want that for me, or herself, and this is practically free money in her mind. So low-effort. A few scribbles as some sort of payment for…for taking advantage of me and all that.
I’m so stupid. So, so, sostupid.
“Do you want children?” Lukas asks.
I lift my face, stare at his stoic profile. “What?”
“I don’t see how it helps your mother, but I’d be happy to get married and have little ones with you.”
“But…you…aren’t even…comfortable with the process…of creating children. You told me.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll get comfortable if you decide I’m worthy enough to drown. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I like the idea of trying, with you, forever. Maybe I like the idea of you sayingyes, Lukas, marry me, make me yours for the rest of my life. Maybe I like a whole lot of what you just said—save the parts where your mother implied you’d take my baby and leave. I don’t know what nonsense she’s hallucinating, but she’s—” He cusses. “—stupid if she thinks I wouldn’t fight for custody of a little baby with my hair and your eyes.”
I don’t understand what’s happening. Did he just propose?
My attention falls toward the little glittery mark peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his shirt.
This has to be a rich person thing. Marriage is a party, an ad, a moment without consequences. He’ll make me sign a prenup, and I’ll have my fifteen minutes in the spotlight with him before I grovel for however many years he wants to put up with me.
After that, it’s divorce. He’ll remarry fast. I’ll suspect he was having an affair. I’ll go down in history as King’s first wife.
Except, one problem…I want to be Lukas Bachelor’sonlywife.
“How many children do you want?” I ask.
“As many as it takes.”
My brow furrows. “As many as it takes for what?”
“To get my hair and your eyes.” He pulls into the parking lot of a rather important looking building. Finding a space, he parks and turns to me, bracing an elbow on the center console. “I’m not shocked your mother is trying to use me through you. Do you want to tell her that I’m planning to marry you? Do you want a few autographed albums to send her? Do you want me to take over her role of controlling you and make it very, very clear that she’s no longer allowed to tellmygirl what to do?”
That one. Completely, completely that one… But, also. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to play the bad guy.”
“Iamthe bad guy, cupcake. It pisses me off that she’s in your head when that’s my real estate. What do I have to throw at her to make hergo away?”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “I’m sorry. I won’t mention her again.”
