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“What happens if he wants a second meeting?” I ask.

Hopelessness settles in her big blue eyes. Her lips part, but she doesn’t find words for the longest moment. Then, she says, “I don’t know.”

I search her precious face. “Please know.”

“I’ll run away with you. We’ll get married on our way out of town. And we’ll find a place far, far up north, where it’s always winter. I’ll learn how to be a housewife, or I’ll get a job, and we’ll make do. Together.”

“Promise?”

Certain, she says, “I promise,” so I let her go and pretend the next few hours aren’t going to be agony.

Chapter 5

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Let the conspiracy begin!

December

I might throw up, which is great, because what rich guy wants a girl with acid reflux, right?

“Now, Devina,” my mother says, primping and polishing me until I feel more doll than human, “when you meet Forrest, you smile pretty, okay? And emit grace. You’re a lady.” She breathes deep and lifts her head, showing me the way I’m meant to stand. “Slow, dainty movements.”

“I thought I was supposed to be myself?” I whisper, staring hollowly at the woman in my vanity mirror. She’s…painted. Blushed and glossed and fake.

“You are, darling.” My mother rearranges a single strand of my hair. “You are graceful. It’s just…” Her lips purse. “Only most of the time. When you’re not reading. Be yourself when you aren’t reading. Or daydreaming. Or…with your nice, but all around odd, friend.”

So. Be who I am roughly two percent of the time if we don’t count who I am when I’m sleeping?

“Mom, I don’t feel good.”

“It’s going to be all right, my love. Forrest is a gentleman.”

How many gentlemen handpick their brides from a rich people catalog called Eligible?

Continuing to fiddle with my hair, my mother says, “Some men like women who eat a lot. Some don’t. You watch and see what kind he is, understand?”

No. I don’t. “If…he doesn’t like how much I eat, then…does that mean he’s not the right match?”

Taken aback, my mother says, “Heavens no, Devina. We can’t judge him based on that alone. Make sure he feels welcome and comfortable is all I’m saying. Assess what he considers ladylike, then be ladylike.” Holding my shoulders, my mother looks over the top of my head, at my eyes in the mirror. “This is about your future. You want someone who can take care of you. Forrest is very wealthy, and he has wonderful connections. There can be other chances, but I can tell this is a good opportunity. You should do your best not to let it pass you by. Be cautious. Use tact.”

My head hurts.

My mother squeezes my shoulders, and repeats, “Just be yourself.”

Except not at all.

“Mom,” I say softly, “what…if I don’t fall in love with him?”

My mother laughs. “Oh, darling. Don’t be silly. You pick who you fall in love with. Love’s a choice, so make a good one.” Kissing the top of my head, she steps back and beckons for me to stand, so I scoot my chair out and rise. As much warmth as possible fills my mother’s face when she covers her lips with her hand. “Oh, Devina. You’re perfect.”

No, I’m not.

Perfect is sitting with Wynnter on a chilly October day and texting August while we nibble our way through all the pastries I brought over. Perfect is watching a fire crackle and seeing the depth of love grow in my lover’s eyes.

This isn’t perfect.

This is torture.