The Rake (Boston Belles 4)

What if she was the one who was harassing Sweven?

She had all the discriminatory characteristics: a motive, a grudge, and an end game.

She knew where I lived, which meant that she knew where Belle lived.

And whatever information she was missing could be filled in by a private investigator.

But was she really capable of such a thing?

“I know nothing,” my mother gasped, trying to sound offended. “I just said it because you told me she was a stripper. They tend to get into hot water. Your life choices say a lot about you. Why, what are you insinuating?”

“What are you hiding?” I countered.

“I’m not hiding anything. But I know you, and you are a caregiver by nature. I don’t want you to give up on things because of her.”

“I’m starting to think you know more than you let on.”

This made her blow out a sharp breath.

“You’re becoming extremely paranoid. I’m worried about you. You’re losing it. Coming back home would do you good. Please think about it.”

Dinner was, as expected, perfect.

The setting, the room, the meal, and the woman. All five stars.

Louisa sat across from me in the grand suite she was housed in, clad in a black evening dress, flawless for the occasion.

We dined on roasted lobster with red potatoes.

The french doors of her balcony were open, the spring breeze wafting inside carrying with it the scent of blossom.

It reminded me of Europe. Of lazy summer breaks on the shore in the South of France.

Of unprocessed meats and cheese so smelly it would make our eyes water, and bronzed skin, and chateaus I’d get lost in.

And I realized I missed home.

To a point where it started to hurt.

“You know, I tried to move on from you. I even succeeded, for a little while,” Louisa admitted, running the pad of her finger over the rim of her wine glass. “Frederick was an incredible man. He taught me how to believe, a power I didn’t think I had anymore. I used to walk around with this godawful sense of failure. After all, my entire purpose in this life was to marry you, and I’d managed to somehow scare you away.”

“Lou,” I groaned, feeling terrible, because in a sense, she was still doing just that. Trying to win me.

“No, wait. I want to finish.” She shook her head. “When I met him, he spent an entire year just peeling away my insecurities, layer after layer, to try and find out who I was. It was hard … and it was a long process. He had no idea what made me the way I was. Why my wounds had refused to close. But he was patient and sweet.”

I fractured the lobster with the cracker, feeling kinship to the dead animal. And for Frederick, who sounded like a good man, who deserved better.

And also a weird sense of revelation. Frederick had the ability and endurance to stick around for Lou when she was impenetrable to him—why couldn’t I do so with Emmabelle?

“At first, when I was with him, I had dreams about you coming back and me flaunting my new relationship. My perfect man. But after a while, I stopped thinking about you. He was enough. Actually …” she hesitated. “He wasn’t just enough. He was everything. And it hurt so bad to lose him. At that point, I realized I might be cursed.” Louisa smiled, propping her chin on her knuckles.

I looked into her eyes and saw sorrow. So much sorrow. Here we were, about to become engaged to be married, and we were still pining for other people.

The only difference was, the person I wanted was still alive.

And Louisa saw me as a replacement. A consolation prize.

“You’re not the only one who’d been scarred by this experience, sweets. I felt terrible about what I did to you. How I left you high and dry. I vowed to never marry anyone else. Clearly, I kept that promise,” I said, pushing the lobster away. I’d lost my appetite. “I never had a serious girlfriend. My relationships, like my milk, had an expiration date of less than one month. I figured if I ruined things for you, it was only fair I’d do the same for me.”

She reached across the round table, taking my hands in hers.

“We have a chance now, Devvie. Let’s make up for lost time. It is not too late. Nothing’s stopping us.”

One thing was. “I’m about to become a father.”

“We can do this together. You said you’ll have joint custody, right? I can move here. Ursula would prefer it if you moved back, but I’m sure we’ll still get her blessing. I can help you raise the child. We can have children of our own. I bear no hostility toward Emmabelle. I simply don’t think she’s a good fit for you. I’ll be who you need me to be, Devvie. You know that.”