Page 85
Story: Desperate People
Beautiful and dangerous, like a socialite Valkyrie with a glittery purse full of secrets.
She hands me a glass.
“You looked like you were about to climb inside your own head and lock the door. Figured I’d interrupt.”
I accept the glass with a grateful smile, sighing as I take a sip.
“Thanks. You’re not wrong.”
“I’m never wrong,” she says, all mock arrogance. “Now spill.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Spill what?”
She hums, leans closer. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe how you’re clearly halfway in love with your husband of convenience already and trying very hard to pretend you’re not?”
I nearly choke. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t even try it,” she says, sipping her own champagne. “The moms all talked and everyone knows about what happened. Are you okay?”
I know she means well. I know it, but it stings to hear her call him that. Even if there is some truth to it.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Good. But you know you’ve got that gooey look in your eyes. The one you get when someone brings you those ridiculous cupcakes from that place in SoHo. But this time it’s over that man there, isn’t it?”
I shrug and pretend I’m not rattled by her intuition. Because yeah, I am falling hard for that man. The one who looks like he could write code with one hand and strangle my stalker with the other.
“Well?”
I roll my eyes, heat flooding my cheeks. “It’s complicated, Cora.”
“It’s always complicated, cuz. That’s why we fall in love. Simple is boring.”
I stare at the swirling bubbles in my glass for a long moment, then sigh. “What if I’m just reacting? What if I’m confusing adrenaline and safety for something else?”
She nods like she’s been waiting for this. “Totally fair question. But also? You’re not dumb, Lucy. You’ve been hit on by princes and models and guys who drive Lambos and smell like money and protein powder. None of them made you look like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying not to melt every time he walks into the room. Like you’re scared because you finally found someone who sees past your face and into your soul, and you’re terrified that it might actually last.”
I blink hard. “That’s a little on the nose, actually.”
“I have very good instincts,” she says lightly, looping her arm through mine. “And I’ve seen how he watches you. Like he’s in awe of you. Like you’re not just his wife, you’re his fucking miracle. And not just tonight, Lucy, he’s been watching you like that for months.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah? You really think so?”
“I know so.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “Look, I know what happened before messed you up. You were a kid. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t your fault. But hiding from love isn’t the same as protecting yourself. Sometimes the best armor is just letting the right person in.”
I don’t speak. I can’t.
Because she’s right.
And because for the first time in a long time, I think I’ve already let him in.
I glance toward the far end of the tent where Balor stands near Connor, still half-watching me even in conversation, his bi-colored eyes tracking every move I make like he’s memorizing me.
Like he already has.
She hands me a glass.
“You looked like you were about to climb inside your own head and lock the door. Figured I’d interrupt.”
I accept the glass with a grateful smile, sighing as I take a sip.
“Thanks. You’re not wrong.”
“I’m never wrong,” she says, all mock arrogance. “Now spill.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Spill what?”
She hums, leans closer. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe how you’re clearly halfway in love with your husband of convenience already and trying very hard to pretend you’re not?”
I nearly choke. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t even try it,” she says, sipping her own champagne. “The moms all talked and everyone knows about what happened. Are you okay?”
I know she means well. I know it, but it stings to hear her call him that. Even if there is some truth to it.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Good. But you know you’ve got that gooey look in your eyes. The one you get when someone brings you those ridiculous cupcakes from that place in SoHo. But this time it’s over that man there, isn’t it?”
I shrug and pretend I’m not rattled by her intuition. Because yeah, I am falling hard for that man. The one who looks like he could write code with one hand and strangle my stalker with the other.
“Well?”
I roll my eyes, heat flooding my cheeks. “It’s complicated, Cora.”
“It’s always complicated, cuz. That’s why we fall in love. Simple is boring.”
I stare at the swirling bubbles in my glass for a long moment, then sigh. “What if I’m just reacting? What if I’m confusing adrenaline and safety for something else?”
She nods like she’s been waiting for this. “Totally fair question. But also? You’re not dumb, Lucy. You’ve been hit on by princes and models and guys who drive Lambos and smell like money and protein powder. None of them made you look like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying not to melt every time he walks into the room. Like you’re scared because you finally found someone who sees past your face and into your soul, and you’re terrified that it might actually last.”
I blink hard. “That’s a little on the nose, actually.”
“I have very good instincts,” she says lightly, looping her arm through mine. “And I’ve seen how he watches you. Like he’s in awe of you. Like you’re not just his wife, you’re his fucking miracle. And not just tonight, Lucy, he’s been watching you like that for months.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah? You really think so?”
“I know so.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “Look, I know what happened before messed you up. You were a kid. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t your fault. But hiding from love isn’t the same as protecting yourself. Sometimes the best armor is just letting the right person in.”
I don’t speak. I can’t.
Because she’s right.
And because for the first time in a long time, I think I’ve already let him in.
I glance toward the far end of the tent where Balor stands near Connor, still half-watching me even in conversation, his bi-colored eyes tracking every move I make like he’s memorizing me.
Like he already has.
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