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nventional way. She's tall, blond, perfect proportions in the lines of her face. Her eyes are the color of cornflowers and her skin is beautiful. But none of that can blot out lack of warmth that makes her beauty only skin deep.
She looks at me, her eyes narrowed. "I know I've seen your face somewhere. I never forget a face, I've got-- "
"Yes, I know…A photogenic memory.” I finish for her. She repeated this idiocy over and over last night. About Addie. I don’t bother to correct her. “You ever been to Miami?” I say instead.
“No, ugh, I loathe the sun. It's terrible for my skin. You wouldn't know about that, I'm sure.” She gives me a head to toe appraisal. "Your mother's African. Who would have known it to look at you?" She says her smile full of false saccharin. She’s also petty and not very creative.
“Is that the best you can do? Please. Try harder.” I roll my eyes and start toward the door.
Harry walks back in with another hamper and I wish she wasn't here. This woman is a snake and I want to take back everything is said to him last night. I hate that he won't even look at me. And despite how polite he’s being, I can feel his anger like it’s a laser that’s trained on me. It sits between, marking a line that neither of us can cross without being burned.
Oh, God. What have I done?
As soon as Harry walks back outside, she turns to me.
"Why are you watching him like that?" She snaps. My eyes come to her, wide with alarm and unable to disguise it.
"Like what?" I say, my heart racing, but I stand my ground. I'm not going to let this woman who doesn't fucking deserve Harry intimidate me.
She darts a quick glance at the entrance and then leans into me. “I’m not studid. I can tell there was something between you, her whisper is urgent and harsh. She puts a hand on my forearm and I look at her, my eyes wide with shock.
“Get your hands—“ She squeezes my arm even tighter and cuts me off.
“But whatever it was, it’s over. I like him. He’s rich, and titled! And he’s not old or ugly.” She closes her eyes, “Do you know how rare that is? You can’t have him.”
“Listen, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lean away from her and pull my arm out of her grasp.
She closes the space between us again. “Just stay away. He’s mine.”
“Then, what are you so worried about?” I ask her, my eyebrow raised.
I take her in. Her face is flushed and her nostrils are flared. I’m sure I look the same way. I’d really like to curse her out. To tell her to keep her fucking hands off me. And to tell her that he’ll never be hers. But, I know how she must feel. I don’t blame her. He’s worth fighting for. She’s just guarding her treasure. I wish I’d been as wise as her when I had him.
Her face falls, but she recovers and is leaning toward me when Harry calls my name from right outside the door.
We both take a step away from each other. And then I walk toward the entrance.
I step outside and Harry’s standing by the van. He watches me as I approach. I give him a tentative smile but as soon as I do, he looks away. My stomach sinks a little. It’s okay. This is what I should expect.
"I unloaded the rest around the back, I don't want to clutter up the inside of the store." He says, pointing at the now empty van. I hear the crunch of leaves behind me and I know Camille’s come outside, too.
Time to go.
"Okay, thanks." I glance at the watch on my wrist and in the most cheerful voice I can muster say, “I've got to get back to the house. It's almost time for breakfast."
"Oh good, Harry and I were just headed there for breakfast. We woke up with a huge appetite this morning, didn't we darling." Camille comes to stand by him.
I have to stifle my groan. It's physical blow to hear her say that. Did he go to her last night? Could I blame him?
The haze of fear and self-loathing that’s clouded my judgment for so long has, in the last few months, become less opaque. Now, when it’s too late, I can see what I've thrown away.
I swallow the pain in my throat and smile at them.
"That's nice. Well, I'll see you both there. " Like hell I'd be sitting across from them to break bread. I’d rather eat arsenic.
23
Harry
