Page 48 of Forbidden French


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I don’t notice Royce following after me until he calls my name. My initial reaction is slight annoyance, but I turn and try a smile on for size as he hurries to catch me.

“I was going to see if perhaps we could finish that walk we started yesterday?”

My manners kick in before I even have to consider them. “Of course. I’d love to.”

It feels so eerily similar to yesterday, the crunching of the gravel marking every awkward step, only this time I try harder to come up with topics of conversation we can discuss. I want to make this feel natural. I want to be walking alongside a friend, and to do that, we have to get past this beginning phase. After a few failed attempts to find mutual footing, I bring up the book I’m reading, and Royce’s face lights up.

“I love McCarthy’s writing, though I haven’t read that one yet.”

“Then I’ll lend it to you when I’m finished. I’m almost done.”

And just like that, we’ve begun to bridge the gap between us. I feel infinitely better, already imagining how happy my grandmother will be when I tell her about my afternoon.

Then, we turn the corner back toward the house and I come face to face with Emmett walking alongside Marie Shaw.

I’ve met her before, back in the States. She’s a soda heiress. Two years older than me, she’s slightly more than an acquaintance but not quite a friend. She’s classically beautiful, feminine and sweet. You could even say angelic with the sun beating down on her pale blonde hair oh so perfectly. The few times we’ve found ourselves in conversation, she’s barely uttered a word, not because she’s shy, but because she hasn’t deemed me worthy of the effort. She seems to have found her voice now though as she looks up at Emmett with shining eyes. It’s like he single-handedly hung the moon. I watch—barely suppressing a gag—as she drops her hand to his forearm, leaning into him to laugh, and I just don’t think anything could be that funny. What, is he a stand-up comedian now? Please.

“—should be fun.”

The tail end of Royce’s sentence stuns me back to reality. He’s been going on about something and I’ve totally missed it. In fact, I’ve slowed my pace so that he’s positioned slightly in front of me. Emmett’s gaze catches mine, followed by a familiar swooping feeling in my stomach. It feels like the brief pause at the peak of a rollercoaster just before it suddenly pitches forward. It’s so visceral that I look down as the path narrows. We have no choice but to shift to one side so Emmett and Marie can pass, and with that comes customary greetings.

“Royce.”

“Emmett.”

They nod to one another, and then it’s my turn to look at Marie and offer some kind of pleasantry.

“Hello Marie.”

“Elaine.”

Her tight smile says it all. She’s already looking ahead along the path, resenting the interruption. In fact, she drops her hand back onto Emmett’s arm as if to say, Shall we?

I look to Emmett, but his gaze is straight ahead. If he wants to say something more, I can’t tell.

Fine.

I’m the one who moves away first, slipping into a sour mood as I continue past them, wondering what Emmett’s angle is in going on a walk with Marie. Does she know that he never intends to marry? That she’s barking up the wrong tree? Or maybe Marie is different. Maybe she’s tempting enough to persuade him to change his stance, as solid as it may seem. What a bitter thought. Surely he would choose someone better than Marie.

Or perhaps I’m wrong. Marriage might not be what’s on her mind. I doubt any unattached female at this week’s party would hesitate before throwing themselves at the opportunity to have Emmett for a night or two. What a story that would be. I’m sure they’d love to tell their friends. Oh yes, he and I were together for a brief affair…

“Are you all right?” Royce asks, picking up his pace to catch up to me.

I’ve been intentionally racing away, trying to put as much distance between me and Emmett as possible. If it wouldn’t seem so damn weird, I’d break out into a run. I suddenly have a font of energy I need to burn off.

“Yes, actually—” I suddenly stop and turn to face him. “There’s no need to walk me all the way back up to my room. I know the way.” I was trying to make a teasing remark, but it actually comes out borderline bitchy. I cringe and try for an easier tone as I continue, “I just mean, it’s okay if you’d like to go join your friends or…” I have no idea what else he’d like to do. What does he enjoy? “I’ll see you again, later at the pier.”

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