I believe him. Well, I believe he wouldtry.The corner of my mouth ticks up. “You know Haven would never let you do that, right? No matter how upset she was?”
He hums. “She’s forgiven me for worse. She’d come around eventually.”
I chuckle as I leave the kitchen shaking my head. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Episode 17: The Princess and the Press Release
Florence
It doesn't take long for the backlash from the paparazzi photos to strike. The queen doubles down on my manipulation. Isadora supports her claim. The crown releases a statement about how everyone knows that I can’t be trusted, that the pack is only in Granton to figure out if this is all a grand scheme on my part to trap them into a bond that none of them want.
She paints them as noble heroes flying to the side of the poor, sick, obsessed omega, to see what they can do for me, to help me, while still ensuring everyone that the betrothal witnessed on a reality dating show is not going anywhere.
The Ashbourne pack stays notably silent on the matter.
Which allows people to draw their own conclusions.
Mostly that I am a manipulative fuck, intent on trapping them.
It certainly doesn’t feel good, and it doesn’t make my distrust of the pack lessen at all. Even as I understand whythey haven’t said anything. They still plan on choosing Isadora publicly, and they don’t want to say anything to undermine that.
And yet, they can’t seem to understand my continued reluctance.
It's been almost a week since our conversation at the cafe. A week in which I don’t avoid them, but I don’t necessarily seek them out. I spend a good portion of my time sketching designs, finalizing what pieces I want to produce and put out for sale.
We’re doing just a small launch to start only a handful of casual dresses and active wear. The two things I’ve become known for thanks to my stint on the show.
If they sell well, I’ll expand the collection.
So I sketch and plan and design, dreaming of this being what I do every day. Haven and the Calloways have been so supportive of every move I’ve made, every decision, every design choice, I’m not sure how I’ll ever repay them.
But that’s the beauty of people who truly love you, they want to help and they don’t expect anything in return.
I haven’t told the Ashbourne pack about my business.
I’m not certain why.
Maybe because if I voice it to them, if I tell them I’m building a business here, they’ll take it as a sign that they’ve lost me and then they’ll leave again.
Which I realize with some surprise I really don’t want. I don’t want to go back to feeling sick all the time. I don’t want to wake up feeling achy and feverish and needing to smile and lie and say, ‘I’m fine,’ ‘I’m feeling much better,’ ‘today is better than yesterday’.
More than that, though, Ilikethem. That’s always been the case. It goes deeper than just the fact that we’re fated mates. More than that they are apparently the other parts of my soul. I just like them, enjoy spending time with them.
Which makes it hard to keep my distance, to keep those walls as high as I can in the name of protection. I spend most of my time resisting the urge to just fall into them, to face the very real threat that I might just die if they leave me again, to make peace with it, and suck up whatever time I have left with them.
But I don’t want to die any more than I want to go back to feeling sick. So I don’t avoid them, and I don’t seek them out, instead focusing on me, on what I need to do once the queen demands they return to Bravonne. I need to make sure I have something after they leave me in tatters, something else I can focus on. Something just for me.
So we exist in the world together, a solar system of planets, revolving around one another. Though it seems more that they revolve around me, the sun in their universe. The thing which they orbit around.
They don’t push to restart the conversation I abandoned in that cafe days ago. They don’t pressure me to go to Bravonne with them. They just… are.
Reminding me of their presence at every turn.
Breakfast on the counter for me next to the perfect cup of coffee when I go downstairs in the morning.
Fresh bouquets of flowers delivered every day.
Drawings of me while I sketch clothing designs slipped under my bedroom door, letting me know at least one of them was watching.