Page 16

16

SUTTON

“Please?”

Jesse’s eyebrows hitch in the middle as she turns her sternest glare on me yet. “No!”

“Pretty please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

She rolls her eyes, but I can see her lips twitch upwards in a hint of a smile. “You’ve been spending too much time with my five-year-old.”

I lace my hands together in prayer formation and give her the biggest puppy dog eyes in the world, which I did in fact learn from her five-year-old.

“Aw, come on, Jesse. I’m bored out of my mind cooped up in this huge house with nothing to do. Let me help you clean it at the very least.”

She’s wavering. I can tell.

We’re close to victory.

Jesse chews at the inside of her cheek. “If Oleg finds out…”

“How is he gonna find out?” I ask slyly. “I’m certainly not going to tell him. Are you going to tell him?”

She sighs. “You’re a guest in this house. I can’t make you clean.”

“You’re not making me do anything. I’m offering!”

“Still—”

“I will stick to you like white on rice, singing God Save the Queen in the worst British accent you’ve ever heard, until you buckle and let me help.”

“Jesus,” Jesse caves with a horrified shudder. “Fine. You can help. I’m tackling the west wing today.”

“Ooh, I thought that was off-limits?”

“Huh?” Jesse twists around.

I smile. “Sorry… that was a Beauty trust me. I’ve been around him a lot over the years. This is the first trip where I’ve seen that light in his eyes again. Sometimes, he looks at you the way he used to look at Elise.”

That sends a ripple down my spine. I’ve been trying not to look for her in the frames, yet all the while, hoping I’ll see her somewhere.

“How were they together?”

“They knew each other for a long time. First, Elise was just Oriana’s friend. Then she was his friend, too. They grew into each other, you know? In some ways, it was inevitable.”

I bite down my jealousy. “So it was true love then?”

Jesse chews on her bottom lip thoughtfully as she walks to the adjacent wall and gestures for me to follow her.

“They were so young. Who knows if it was true love? Whatever it was, though, her death made sure it would stay that way.”

She plucks a small frame from the wall and opens the back.

“This is Elise,” she says, pulling out a picture that’s been stowed away at the back of the frame.

I take the photograph with shaky hands and look down at the woman whose shoes I can never fill.

She’s blonde, too. A little smaller than me. A little shorter. But her eyes are a warm, luminescent brown and her smile is punctured by the deepest dimples I’ve ever seen. She’s frozen forever in all her eighteen-year-old glory.

“She’s gorgeous.”

“She was as sweet as they come,” Jesse says. “She always included me, just like Oriana did.”

“Why isn’t her picture up here with the others?”

“Oleg’s request.” She shrugs. “I think it’s a little too painful for him to look at.”

I want to be gracious about this. I want to be mature.

But my heart drops into my stomach. If Oleg still has trouble looking at Elise’s pictures, it probably means he still loves her.

Of course, he still loves her, you idiot. Why else would he choose a contract marriage over a real relationship?

But it does beg one question…

“Jesse?”

“Hm?”

“You mentioned that you saw a difference in Oleg with me in his life.” I feel self-conscious even asking the question, but I know it’s going to bother me for weeks if I don’t ask. “What’s the difference that you see?”

She smiles. “Like he has something to live for again.”