Page 120 of His Trick

The truth pressed hard at the back of my skull. Tonight wasn’t just this fucking wedding. It held so much. And later, I’d meet up with Carrington.

Tonight, I’d put to words what I hadn’t dared say…that I was choosing my light. That whatever passed between us all those damn times before, however much it tore me up inside, I was binding myself to Xanthy to keep my mask strong.

I couldn’t let Carrington devour me in darkness. I fought too hard to let go now.

It should’ve brought relief to know I was so close to being what I'd wanted my entire life. But breaking the heart of the man I loved didn’t do anything but shatter my own.

I used the car mirror to fix my suit and tie. I looked outside at the wedding hall, it was all flashy white stones, arches covered in flowers, and polished cars all fucking lined up in neat, tidy rows. The kind of place where Xanthy’s friends lived.

A world that wasn’t mine.

“Ready?” she said, her bright eyes shining with that nervous excitement that made her look younger, softer.

I gave her a smile I didn’t feel. “Always for you.”

The hall smelled of flowers and polish. It was way too clean and exorbitantly expensive for someone like me.

Xanthy’s hand was looped through my arm, her lavender dress brushing against my sleeve as we walked in.

I could feel her nerves in the way she gripped me, the faint tremor in her fingers, even though she smiled as if she belonged above the rest.

“This way,” she whispered, tugging me toward a cluster of women in jewel colored gowns. A fucking rainbow of fabric. “You’ll like them. Be nice, please.”

I doubted that, but I nodded anyway.

Her friends swarmed us, laughing. The perfume was so damn strong, my eyes watered behind the sunglasses. A nameless face kissed her cheek with bright lipstick, then turned her eyes on me like she was inspecting a prize horse.

I’ve got the cock to match, bitch.

“So this is the Shiloh we’ve heard about? My my, he’s certainly one to look at, Alexandra darling.”

“That’s me,” I answered, keeping my voice steady. “My title is Doctor Anderson. Though I’ve got to say, I’m not half as interesting as Xanthy makes me out to be. She’s the true star. I am only lucky to exist in the light she casts.”

That earned a ripple of ‘awes’ and sappy bullshit love quotes. I read that off a fortune cookie once, but I’m glad socialites were too dumb to understand anything of substance. My griptightened around Xanthy’s waist, letting her gawking friends see my possession and care for her.

Even if it was all a show, I did care for Xanthy. I did feel possessive, but only because I refused to give up my own mask.

They wanted to know how we met, and I told them the story. The way she’d shown up in my backyard last spring, lost and muddy, hanging onto some rich shoe like her life depended on it.

My old roommate’s dog, Roxy, nearly ate her face for trespassing, but I left that part out. “She looked like she’d fallen out of the sky and landed in my grass,” I said, my eyes sliding to hers. “And I couldn’t believe she was real. I thought surely an angel was gifted to me by God himself.”

An angel gifted to the devil.

Xanthy’s cheeks flushed, and her thirsty friends sighed. That was what they wanted—a man polished enough to charm them, yet rough enough to keep their attention. I played the part well. I shook hands, smiled, and nodded at all the right times.

Sharing our story brought on a slew of memories. I remembered how in that first week, she’d sat curled on my couch in flannel pajamas, her feet tucked under her, asking question after question about my life.

I remembered the lake house in July when we’d first fucked in the water, and how fragile she seemed.

I remembered the way she’d squealed when I pushed her in the deep water, her arms wrapping around my neck when I jumped after her.

She had been so fragile from the man before me.

I remembered her falling asleep in my bed one night, not from sex, but exhaustion, and how I’d stayed awake just to listen to her breathe. She’d said things aloud that night—memories of pain and fear.

I told myself I could keep her safe, and every day since, for better or worse, I had. Her body was safe, but not her heart.

Because her brother had mine.