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I merely stand there with my hands tucked into my pockets and peer down at her, spellbound by her innocence.
Her eyes go round with shock when clarity sets in. She opens her mouth, closes it, half-steps back, looks to me as if about to say something, then finally walks away, toward the painting across the room. It’s like she wants to pretend the last few seconds never happened, wipe them totally clean.
I stay rooted to my spot, giving her time to get her bearings. I don’t know why I said that. It’s stating the obvious. She’s stunning, yes, but I don’t think that needed to be acknowledged out loud and in such an overtly flirtatious way. I didn’t come here today in pursuit of her, at least not romantically.
I sigh and start to make my way toward her. There’s a shift in the air.
Though her back is to me, she’s fully aware of my presence. Her posture is rigid and tense.
I almost open my mouth to apologize and put us back to rights. When I reach her, I start to do just that, but she peels her attention away from the painting on the wall that she’s occupied herself with and speaks before I can.
“You were angry earlier, when you first arrived, weren’t you?”
The shift in topic surprises me. “Oh? What gave me away?”
“That curt reply about Collette was a bright red flag, though I didn’t need it. You walked in here looking the same as you did back at St. John’s, always carrying your feelings around. Right here,” she says, touching my brow gently. “There was always so much tension.”
I relax my features, and she drops her hand back by her side. Her fleeting touch lingers like tiny pinpricks on my face.
“Care to tell me why you were upset? Does it have to do with work? Or something else?” She leans in and whispers, “I’m good at keeping secrets, remember?”
Her words feel like a spell, a sensation of déjà vu.
I stop pretending to inspect the artwork in front of me and turn to face her head on, suddenly wanting her of all people to know the truth. “I just came from lunch with my father. Tolerable though our meals together usually are, today was different. He’s made it clear he wants me to get married. In fact, he’s demanding it.”
After a brief pause, a laugh bubbles out of her and she slaps a hand over her mouth.
She peels it partly away while wearing a look of remorse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. Just…our lives are so different and yet we always seem to be waging similar wars. I’m as good as married myself. My grandmother saw to my betrothal just the other day. Soon, I’ll be a missus.”
I frown at her jokey demeanor. “You’re kidding.”
She shakes her head.
“You don’t sound nearly as concerned as you should be by the prospect.”
She drops her hand and then presents a perfectly demure smile as if to say, What can I do?
“I’m nothing if not dutiful.”
How can she so willingly throw her life away? How can she allow her grandmother to control her fate?
“I’ll never marry. I see no point to it.”
Unimpressed, she notes, “A cynic—how rare. And I suppose you think love is a sham? A marketing ploy made up by Hallmark and Russel Stover?”
I shake my head vehemently. “Nothing like that. I don’t think of love at all. I leave it to others to enjoy. If it’s a farce, let it be theirs. I want nothing to do with it.”
“So you’ll defy your father?”
“Of course. His request is absurd.”
Her eyebrows rise and fall quickly. “Well you’ll have to let me know how that goes.”
“You could do it with me.”
She smiles wistfully. “I could…”
“But you won’t,” I determine, sounding dejected.
“You don’t have to look at me like that, with all that pity. I’m fine with my life. Happy, even. And I support you in your rebellion. Fight the good fight, Emmett. I’ll wholeheartedly cheer you on—from afar, that is. Are you staying in Boston long?”
“Longer than expected.”
“Oh.”
She doesn’t look too happy about the news.
“Eager to be rid of me?”
She swallows, and I watch every delicate muscle move in her neck.
“No. Of course not. I see no harm in the two of us being friends. I’m off the market, and you are…” She has to think it over for a moment before smiling. “Never going to be on the market. It’s perfect. Now, let’s look at some art, shall we?”
I extend my arm for her to take, she places her hand lightly in the crook of my elbow, and then we walk back into the main gallery, two friends.
Chapter Fourteen
Lainey
Emmett and I might have agreed on a friendship, but after his visit to the gallery, I don’t see him for two weeks. I hate that I know it’s been two weeks. In fact, it’s been a little over two weeks if I count to the exact day. I’ve been trying not to. There’s a certain ease to life if you’re careful not to open any tempting doors or fall too deeply into hypothetical thoughts. Since graduating from college and moving in with my grandmother, I’ve been careful to tame the wildness inside me. I don’t want to be anything like my mother, which means I should listen to my grandmother, let her guide me through life, keep things simple and comfortable.
