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It’s really hard not to press her for more information.
Instead, I sit and listen and laugh, all the while racking my brain to come up with a way to get rid of this other guy.
In a nice way.
Because Gunnar is right—my best option for keeping Tema in my life is to make sure Hettie doesn’t leave. And to do that, I need to give her a better reason to stay here with me than go back to what she might have waiting for her in Victoria.
I can do that.
15
Hettie
We finish the wine.Eventually, they take pity on me and my constant yawns, and Bo clears the pizza boxes, stacking them outside the door, where, apparently, someone will remove them.
It was so nice to be able to spend time with Spencer and Bo again that I didn’t want to be the one to end it, regardless of the exhaustion that weighs me down. It takes everything I have not to curl up with Bo in the comfortable-looking chair.
I could sit on his lap, throwing my legs over the side. He would put his arms around me, playing with my hair and I—
It’s not fair for me to even think about it. It’s not fair to Timothy or Bo, and I definitely don’t need thoughts like that running through my mind.
I asked Bo for a divorce, and now I want to sit on his lap?
I’m so messed up.
Bo leaves with Spencer and Abigail, so I know he doesn’t want to be alone with me. It’s probably for the best. The more tired I get, the more my mind shifts back to how I felt in his arms this morning.
This morning, I was in his cabin across the country, and now I’m here as a guest in the castle. To say that things are moving fast is an understatement.
It’s after eleven, but with the four-and-a-half-hour time difference, I decide to call Timothy before I go to bed. As I wait for him to pick up, I tell myself the sudden sadness I’m hit with is because I miss him—no other reason. “Hi, you,” I say in a cheerful voice.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. How’s the castle?” Timothy asks without much emotion—no hint of worry, disappointment that I am so far away from him, not even a touch of jealousy—but that’s how he always is.
When I met him, I’d been struck with how easy he was to be around. Calm, centered, relaxed. He was as good in a group as he was one-on-one. He enjoyed a drama-free life, he told me, and liked it like that.
“Most people have drama in their lives that they brought on themselves,” Timothy would say. “I don’t do that. Nothing really is worth getting upset over.”
My life had been a jumble of emotions when I met him, and I appreciated his calmness. But lately, I’ve been wondering if Timothy thinks I’m worth getting upset over.
“The castle is… big. Beautiful.”
“And your prince?”
“He’s not my prince,” I say quickly.
“I’m glad to hear that. Guess what I’m doing tonight?”
“Meeting Marcus for a drink?” It’s Wednesday night, and on Wednesdays, Timothy meets his best friend for a beer, along with three of their friends that he’s had since highschool.
I envy Timothy his circle of friends. He tells me they’re my friends too, but no one has been really that welcoming.
I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last eight years without Abigail.
Abigail andSpencer, I remember and miss part of what Timothy is saying. “… and Thomas said he wouldn’t dream of it.” Timothy laughs and I join in, even though I have no idea what the joke was.
Not that his friend Thomas makes many jokes. They all share Timothy’s even-ness, which comes across as a lack of personality in most of them.
How can I say that? At least I’m not marrying Timothy’s friends—I’m marrying Timothy.