I can’t tell if she wants me close or wants me gone, because every time she looks at me, I swear she’s saying both.
Often, I catch her looking at me, and that makes me think she likes me, but there’s heat in her glare that tells me she hates how much she does—like she’s almost furious with herself, and God help me, I love that.
How long can we pretend this is just a flirty banter game before one of us snaps and gives in?
I’m so close to losing my damn mind over her. That might have already happened.
Sapphire clears her throat, fiddling with the strands of gold necklaces resting on her collarbone. She’s wearing four today. “Are you looking forward to the wedding?” She moves us into safer territory.
“Weddings really aren’t my thing, but it’s the first one we’ve had in the family, and my mom is very excited.” It’s not Arianna who has become bridezilla, it’s my mother who is stealing that crown, fretting over the tiniest of details, making sure everything is perfect for Arianna and Nathan’s big day.
“I bet she is. Her firstborn getting married is a big deal.”
“Yeah.” On more than one occasion, my dad spoke to me about waiting to find the one, someone who will be there for me and stand by me no matter what.
That seems like a lifetime ago now, and the thought of marriage for me feels so far out of my reach. There isn’t even a glimmer of it anywhere to be seen.
She tilts her head to the side, her brows furrowing to form a bump between her eyes, then twirls a lock of powder-blue hair. I’ve noticed she often does it when she’s deep in thought.
“You know,” she begins tentatively, “to get a better sense of your family values, I could come to the wedding, if it’s okay with your brother and the bride-to-be. You wouldn’t even know I was there. I think it would help me understand your family’s ethics by spending time immersing myself in the Hart fold. Observe. Yes?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I reply, my voice uncertain. Nathan and Arianna may freak out if there are any last-minute changes. Not that it matters. They’re having it at my mom’s ranch, and her team organizes everything. They’d easily add her to the table plan, without question.
“Did you get a plus-one invite?” she asks hopefully, her voice rising at the end.
“Yes, but…”
“Well, that’s settled then. I’ll text you my address, and you can pick me up on Saturday.”
“Eh, no. I’d have to check that with Arianna and Nathan.” I try to push her off the idea.
“Can you text them now?”
I can but I don’t want to. Having a plus-one isn’t something I had given any thought. I imagined the day with just my brothers, family and friends. I was looking forward to going alone and if Sapphire comes with me, then her enjoyment feels like a lot of responsibility on me.
My thoughts keep escalating into a cyclone of worry.
Would everyone at the wedding think we are romantically involved, something more than just working together? Because if so, I’ll be bombarded with questions and assumptions about us all day.
If she does come, then I’ll have to leave earlier in the morning than I arranged to, and change my plans to have Clark, my chauffeur, pick me up at least an hour before I asked him to.
This already sounds too much for my brain to deal with.
We aren’t even compatible. So why does she want to come with me when all we do is argue? However, that little spark of something between us is becoming my favorite thing about us. I almost crave it and love her fresh little digs.
“Eli? Are you okay?” Sapphire pulls me out of my overthinking.
I jerk my head. “Yes. I’m fine,” I snap back.
“Text them, then.”
“I don’t?—”
“It’s just a text. One simple text.”
Why is she pushing this?
And why do I keep resisting when I should be breaking the cycle of micromanaging every little thing I do and plan? Life never fits neatly into perfect boxes and I keep trying to fill them with perfection. It’s ludicrous to think this is how my brain works now, even when I know it’s wrong.