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Chapter twenty-one
Silas
Theknockatthe door surprised me.
It probably shouldn’t have, but it did anyway.
Stone was out; he’d taken Penelope out on an actual date. That blew my mind, honestly, but I was glad for him. I always knew there would come a time when someone knocked him on his ass, and I was sure as shit happy to be around to see it.
But with the two of them out on the town, that meant there was only one person who it could be—the one person who really shouldn’t be at my door at all—and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
I pressed pause on the remote and stood from the couch, slowly making my way across the room. I hesitated, my hand reaching for the knob, not sure if I was even going to open it.
If I didn’t, would she go away?
That would probably be best.
For both of us.
I stood there, staring at the light from the hallway creeping under the door, noticing the dark spots where I guessed her feet were. The shadows were small, narrow spots of dark against the light, because Daphne could never be anything but light.
I waited, watching for the shadows to move, knowing that she should go but hating the thought, when she spoke.
“I know you’re in there, Silas.” Her voice was low and muffled through the heavy wooden door. “I could hear the TV. I brought tea. Are you watching a movie without me?”
That had kind of become our thing over the last few nights. Going about our day, business as usual, as though nothing in our relationship had changed. She was studying all day, the end of the school year drawing near, and I spent time with Stone at the office, helping him prepare for the opening of the hotel and watching him pretend he wasn’t watching Penelope.
Then Stone and I would go out to eat, come back to the house, and call it a night.
But after that, after the lights went down, and the house was quiet, that’s when she would come.
Like somehow she knew that I was awake, that sleep was something that evaded me no matter how tired I was.
That even when I did manage to sleep, it was never restful, never peaceful, except for the nights when she came into my room.
On those nights, we would sit, side by side, on that couch, watching old movies and drinking tea. Sometimes we would talk, sometimes not. Most times, she would recite the words to the movie as it played, and I’d sit there, watching her, seeing the excitement flashing across her face when her favorite parts were on. I could see her emotions displayed so clearly in her wide smile, her rosy cheeks, or in her big green eyes. The way the tears would gather on her lashes—sometimes happy tears, sometimes sad—like her feelings were all right there waiting to be let out, but she never let them fall.
Watching her was like watching my favorite movie over and over again; I’d never get tired of it.
“I can stand here all night if I have to,” she teased, and I knew she would, too. She was just that stubborn.
Shaking my head, I tried to wipe what I was sure was a goofy grin off my face, and opened the door.
She looked different tonight, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.
She was always beautiful, her dark hair and green eyes making her stand out in whatever room she was in, but there was something about her tonight that just seemed...more.
More luscious, more exquisite. More real, and honest, and alive.
Staring at her, my heart kicked in my chest, and I reached up, trying in vain to soothe it from the outside.
Daphne stood there, wearing a simple black dress, her smile soft, looking up at me from under her lashes and for a moment, she almost looked shy.
Then she blinked, determination once again taking over her features, and she grinned that cheeky grin at me and said, “Well, it’s about time.”
“Sorry, Princess,” I drawled, letting her know I was kidding too. “In the future, I will endeavor to be faster to respond to the lady’s requests.”
Daphne rolled her eyes.
“Sure,” she snorted. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Pushing her way past me, she carried the small silver teapot to the coffee table and plunked it down before dropping herself into her usual seat at the far end of the couch. Closing the door, I cut off the light from the hallway and bathed the room in shadow once again. Seeing her there, leaning back on the couch, her dark hair spread across the cushion and the glow from the screen casting light across her delicate features, she looked so beautiful it was almost painful. When I didn’t move, she rolled her head to the side and smiled at me, her face scrunched up in question.
“Are you coming? The tea’s getting cold.”
Clearing my throat, I sat as far away from her as I possibly could on the couch, hoping that the distance would mean I would stop feeling this way; like her every breath, her every heartbeat, was mine. As though if I would only let her in, she could be the one thing in my life that would be clean and shining and good.
Like she could be the only thing tethering me to this planet if I would let her.
But letting her in came with its own list of perils, not the least of which was the fact that if I did, if I opened myself up to her, I wasn’t sure what would happen to me when she decided to walk away.
Because Daphne Pennington had the power to destroy me.
I watched as she poured the tea into the mugs I already had sitting there, cleaned and ready from our last movie night. Sliding one in my direction, she reached for the remote as she sat back again.
“Now, what were you watching?”
Realizing what was about to happen—what she was about to see—I lunged for the remote.
“Nothing!” I burst out, trying to stop her from restarting the show, but it was too late.
“Silas,” she breathed, her eyes wide as she looked at the screen. Sitting back, I ran my hand over my face, feeling my cheeks already heating. “Were...were you watching Ever After?”
I groaned, embarrassed to have been caught out.
“It was just on. It’s not like I picked it.”
I had. I had actually sought out the movie like the twitterpated moron that I was.
Knowing she loved it. Knowing I recognized her in the main character, the woman who defied all odds, defied the expectations of her upbringing, and was able to get exactly what she wanted out of life.
I wanted that for Daphne more than I wanted anything else in the world.
Seeing the sweet smile on her face, I knew that she knew that.
For a moment, we simply stared at each other, and whatever she saw on my face caused her to make some sort of decision, because her smile shifted from teasing to daring.
Leaving the movie to play, Daphne set the remote on the table and turned to me, placing her knees on the cushions as she crawled my way.
“What are you doing?” I breathed, her soft jasmine smell invading my senses. I could drown in that smell and it wouldn’t ever be enough. I sat on this stupid couch for hours after she left, avoiding my dreams and breathing in the scent she would leave behind after our other time together. That scent got me through a lot of dark nights.
I hated that I loved it.
“I’m doing what any good princess would do,” she said softly, her hands coming up and resting on my shoulders. She was so small, even on her knees, we were barely eye to eye. “I am finally taking what I want.”
“Daphne,” I said, my heart pounding in my throat. “I don’t think—”
“Good,” she cut me off, her warm breath ghosting across my lips as she leaned in, her eyes wide and confident as they stared into mine. “Don’t think. Just breathe.”
I had thought about kissing Daphne Pennington more times in the last month than I had cared to admit. I had pictured a thousand different kisses and locations and scenarios that would lead to my lips on hers.
But not a single one of them had ever been this good.
