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“I know you’re surprised to see us.” Miranda’s voice was filled with remorse. “I’m sorry about the little bit of subterfuge I had to use to get you to come here.”
Daria was determined to be as gracious as the other woman was. So she said, “Are you, really?” Her mouth snapped shut. Shit. So much for gracious.
But Miranda didn’t seem bothered by her childish comeback. She only said with quiet dignity, “I know how it looks like, and I’m sorry.”
And with that, Daria thought miserably, Miranda had proved who the bitch between the two of them was.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about that time in Teleios, and one day, I just realized I couldn’t live with myself anymore until I made everything right with you.”
Miranda squared her dainty shoulders and looked at Daria. “Firstly, I’d like to apologize to you, for everything that I said which had hurt you.”
Daria knew she should officially accept the apology, but she just couldn’t. The three of them knew if anyone was supposed to say sorry, it should be her. But she just couldn’t make herself do that either.
When it was clear Daria wouldn’t speak, Miranda hesitated a moment before continuing, “I know things like this sometimes can’t be controlled.”
Things like this? A perfect understatement, Daria thought, to describe what she had with Nik...and lost.
“I just hope that one day, you can find with another man what I have with Nik.”
So, so perfect. How crazy, how stupid, how hopeless was it that Daria could find it in her to admire Nik’s fiancée while her heart spiraled down into another crash?
Miranda belonged to Nik, and Nik belonged to Miranda, and the other woman had been able to get the message across without being bitchy.
Again, Miranda politely waited for her to speak. Again, Daria ungraciously refused.
Finally, Miranda said, “I also thought – and I’m offering this as an olive branch of sorts – perhaps you would like to be one of the stylists for our wedding?”
Daria’s jaw dropped.
A polite, questioning smile formed on Miranda’s lips.
This time, she had to speak. “Excuse me?”
“I’d like to ask if you could join the design team for my wedding.” Miranda raised a hand when Daria opened her mouth to say ‘hell no, over my dead body.’
“Please hear me out first. I’ve talked about this with Nik, and he understands my decision. He supports it.”
Daria saw Miranda send a loving look to Nik, and she thought again, Hell no, over my dead body. Nothing in this world would make her look Nik’s way, too, and risk seeing him return that look with one of his own.
The mere thought tempted her to hysterics. Nik, looking at another woman with love in his eyes?
Hell. No. Over. My. Dead. Body.
“I don’t want to start my married life – our married life – thinking of you as an enemy.” Her cheeks blossomed with heat. “I’m sorry, but yes, that’s how I think of you.”
Was it possible to die in the face of such perfection? If so, Daria might just be its first known victim.
“That’s why I’ve proposed this to Nik. I want to put everything behind me, and to prove to both of us that I truly trust him now, I thought I could invite you to work on our wedding.” Miranda took a deep breath. “If you accept, you’ll also be communicating with Nik the whole time. Just Nik. I won’t be around.”
Daria tried to wrap her head around it. “You won’t be around. As proof that you trust him.”
“And you, of course,” Miranda added. Daria nodded wordlessly, forcing her to wait. Unbidden, Miranda’s gaze darted to Nik, and she saw that no matter how hard he tried to hide it, the truth was there in his eyes.
They were so damn alive, heat glittering so fiercely in his eyes, in a way that they never did...for her.
She forced herself to look away even though she wanted to beg Nik to give her a chance. To try looking at her the way he didn’t want to look at Daria Everest but did.
Reaching for Daria’s hand, she held it tightly, saying, “I know I have no right to ask you this but please – could you find it in your heart to be friends with us and we can all start anew?”
