“Whatever things I do to you don’t concern her.”
She scoffed. “I guess Playboy Gray is somewhat accurate.”
I opened my eyes and rolled over, glaring down at her. “Am I supposed to be faithful to the idea of someone? Lottie is probably fucking someone as we speak.”
I grimaced and rolled back.
“She’s not my girlfriend.” I exhaled. “We aren’t together. Lottie has no idea she’s getting married, much less to me.”
“That’s horrible.” I could picture her open mouth, her wide eyes.
“That’s how things work in our world.”
Wedding days are funerals, the only difference is the women wear white veils to hide their running mascara.
Of course, it isn’t completely ancient. We all have the option to say no—and lose everything. Our inheritance. Our family. Our social circle.
“Just tell her the truth,” Snitch said fervently. “It was all a mistake. Or tell her I did it on purpose, that I knew you were going to be there and wanted to kiss the Grayson Crowne. I’ll say it’s true.”
I shifted, a muscle in my back straining. Why would she do that?
“It won’t do any good.”
“But why—”
“Why not?” I cut her off before she could press. Fuck, Snitch really didn’t know when to let things go. She had no sense of self-preservation. It was annoyingly endearing. Everyone around me was too afraid to ask me real questions. They asked questions only if they were certain of the answer, sure it would make me smile.
Not Snitch.
Snitch asked because she didn’t know.
I craned my head to the side, catching her hazel gaze. “Because I’m Playboy Gray, and you’re just another girl I convinced to lie for me.” She looked away, and I looked back at the ceiling, stretching my arms. “I’ve loved Lottie from afar for years. She’s always made it clear she never returned my affection. She…”
She never wanted anything to do with who I was perceived to be, the Crowne family, and what it meant to be in it.
Can’t say I blame her.
I cleared my throat. “I spent all year courting her, Snitch, convincing her I wasn’t who she thought I was, for that one moment in the antique room.”
All, in hopes that maybe I’d do the impossible and marry a girl who wants to marry me too.
I rubbed my head. Fuck. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t talk to anyone. The closest I ever got was with Woodsy.
A Crowne bends, it breaks.
“I didn’t think I would ever hear you say the word love,” she whispered.
“If you tell anyone—”
“I won’t. And even if I did, no one would believe me.”
My brow knitted at her easy acceptance. Another ghostly silence spread between us, and I figured she’d started to drift to sleep, when she spoke.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. Tomorrow—err, today. I’ll learn everything about Charlotte du Lac! I won’t stop until I’ve fixed it. I promise. I know you don’t know me very well, and what you do know isn’t great. But I will fix it. I don’t steal what doesn’t belong to me. I don’t rip apart people’s love. I don’t do that.”
A whisper of a smile ghosted my lips. Even if I couldn’t see her, I could see the look on her face. The determination pinching her plump lips.
“Truce over, Snitch. Go to sleep.”