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I forced myself to take his hand because, as much as I did hate him just then, I also loved him. “I hate you and I love you.”
He nodded. “Can I…?” he started.
I shrugged uncertainly. “I guess so.”
His fingers played with mine, but the way they used to when we held hands for the pretence, a platonic fidgeting rather than a romantic playing. “I think I realised it all. About us. The way we really feel for each other. I realised it when I found out about you and… Well, I didn’t feel betrayed by you at all. I actually thought, good on you. But…him?” I noticed he was being careful not to say His name, so I’d let him continue. I think we both needed him to. “His betrayal cut like a knife, Harlow. We rely upon each other to literally fucking survive and he…” Apollo sighed. “I’m not advocating on his behalf, but it made me realise he must love you.”
I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat but left my hand in his.
“Sorry,” he said.
I shook my head, as much to clear the tears as assure him. “No. It’s… Go on.”
Apollo shook his head as well. “He wouldn’t have… I know he wouldn’t have if he didn’t. He’s not like that. He and I aren’t like that. He’s my brother, Harlow, in all but blood. He’d never hurt me on purpose.”
I took a breath. “No,” I agreed. “He wouldn’t. Neither of us would.”
Apollo spared me a small smile, but there was no humour in it. “I’m breaking, Harlow.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like I’ve forgotten how to survive in this world. How to be God.”
I squeezed his hand gently. “I’ll always protect you, Apollo. Our world will never hurt you,” I promised him, echoing his words from so many years ago.
After everything we’d been through, it felt like a whole lifetime ago that we’d been promised to each other, and we’d started losing each other. I knew now that we’d never find each other again, not like that. But we had a new path now. A new potential.
Even if we were still forced to marry, we could do so as friends knowing we’d given a real relationship our best shot. We tried it and failed at it. Both of us. And we still loved each other. That, to me, counted for a lot. I didn’t know how we were going to manage the specifics of a life together, but I didn’t feel the bars around my cage, the walls weren’t closing in. I still felt some shred of hope for the future that, even if it wasn’t what we’d hoped for originally, we could still – together – make living someone else’s life bearable. And dare I say, somewhat enjoyable.
He lifted our clasped hands and kissed the back of mine. “We’ll get through this. Together,” he agreed.
Chapter Twenty
On Valentine’s Day, Florence and I were both sitting in my rumpus room at the Vanguard Estate, watching cheesy rom-coms and our favourite period drama films in our pyjamas. It was the first proper day of the winter holidays, and we were pretending that we didn’t currently hate men.
It was working, for the most part. The amount of wine we’d consumed probably helped.
While we were jumping around on the couches to a loud musical interlude in the newPersuasionadaptation, we heard the loud clang of the front doorbell sound.
“Trust Dad to be conducting business on the most romantic day of the year,” I huffed to Florence.
“They way our mums are treated, every day may as well be the most romantic day of the year,” she replied sardonically.
“Yes,” I teased sarcastically. “Simultaneously furiously ignored, and yet lavished with gifts and money and lifestyle and luxury.”
“It’s a tough life,” Florence deadpanned and my smirk broke free.
“Miss Vanguard?” Fletcher’s voice came at the door.
Florence and I both stopped jumping and looked at the Vanguard butler expectantly.
“You have a…visitor, miss,” Fletcher continued, taking in and studiously ignoring the fact that we were acting without a single shred of decorum and didn’t care one whit.
I frowned as I schlumped off the couch. “A visitor?” I asked.
Fletcher nodded. “A visitor.”
Florence joined me on the floor and paused the movie.
