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She certainly wasn’t pregnant since she was on her third glass of wine.
At least I hoped that wasn’t the announcement, but she’d been giddy over the wellies when I’d brought it up again earlier, so who knew?
Grace had done something to Freya, and I kind of liked it.
I was impressed with Grace’s composure, especially with all the questions that were being shot our way. Family members shocked we were dating, how we’d met, how long we’d been together, were we serious—all the usual shit nosy people you rarely spoke to asked whenever they saw you.
She handled it all with aplomb, answering their questions so clearly and confidently that there really was absolutely no way anyone would know we weren’t telling the truth.
Not that we weren’t acting like a couple. There was something so easy about resting my hand on her back, touching her hand, leaning into her to whisper something in her ear.
There was an easy familiarity between us, a comfort I hadn’t seen coming when I’d cooked up this crazy scheme.
Surely our childhood had something to do with it, but not all. Her soulmate question had my mind spinning—did she feel as connected to me as I did to her?
Was it all in my head, or was it in hers, too?
I didn’t know, and I was, honestly, afraid to ask her. Her emotions were complicated around relationships, especially with the aristocracy, and I wasn’t going to push her on it. I’d only kissed her because she’d asked me to.
Well, she’d yelled at me. It was the same thing, though, with the same desired outcome.
I didn’t realise how closed off she’d been before that moment. After I’d kissed her, everything had been so much easier. Her smile was just as bright and her eyes just as teasing, but it was as if there was no longer a wall between us. Where before she’d actively stepped away, she now moved closer, bumping an elbow into mine or tapping her foot against my leg like she had during dinner.
It was as if she sought me out the way I did her. If I thought I was drawn to her before, it was nothing compared to now. Even right now when we were on opposite sides of the room, I found myself consistently looking over to where she was talking to Grandpa and his younger brother, my great-uncle. They were all laughing, and I could barely focus on the conversation because I was so wrapped up in them.
In her.
I’d never introduced anyone to my grandparents before, and this had been entirely accidental. I hadn’t expected them to get along the way they did, and while I knew my grandfather’s opinion of her was likely formed partially on her parentage, I also knew him extremely well.
He didn’t laugh with just anyone.
He didn’t give just anyone his precious history books, especially not to take home and return whenever they were done with.
He’d fully accepted her as my girlfriend, and his treatment of her was his seal of approval.
That made me feel… strange. Not only because she wasn’t my actual girlfriend, but because he’d never treated Mum that way. It felt wrong to be the one to bring home a partner and have them accepted so easily, especially when my so-called relationship wasn’t even real.
I was happy at the same time, though. I hadn’t lied to Grace when I’d told her she’d made a mistake by telling me to kiss her. Now I knew what it was like, how it felt to have her in my arms, to have her hands sliding across my chest and her body against me, I was in trouble.
Nobody had ever affected me the way Grace did.
I was infatuated with her. With her laugh, her smile, her eyes. Her infectious happiness and her need to seek out information. The random information she had stored in her brain made for the funniest conversations at the craziest times, and I wanted more of them with her.
The awe she’d spoken with when she told me we had a common ancestor…kind of. The link between our families a few generations ago had brought her such joy, and it made me want to trawl all the history books in the world just to make her that happy again.
There was something so magical about her. So incredibly endearing in every way I could imagine and some I couldn’t.
It’d only been a matter of days, and I couldn’t shake this feeling about her.
That she was meant to be here.
That she… God, no, I couldn’t even think it. I couldn’t think that she was made for me, but ever since she’d asked me if I believed in soulmates, my answer had played on my mind. I’d been vague, almost aloof, because I didn’t want to face the truth.
Yes, I believed in soulmates.
I believed my parents were, to have gone through everything they did and still chose one another in the end.
I believed my grandparents were, for their lifetime of marriage and never giving up, even when their disagreements had them at loggerheads.
