“Who was that?” Stella asks.
“Oh, it was Darcy. Just checking to make sure I had everything ready to go.”
Stella and Lucas exchange a grin, and I don’t like the look of it. Stella speaks first. “How sweet of him.”
Then Lucas, “This is going to be the realest ‘fake’ wedding ever.”
Stella and I give him a confused look, but he shrugs and pulls out a beat-up iPhone that has to be a single digit model.
My heart sinks. “I know it’s a televised wedding, but it’s not going to be huge. Only the people who need to be there for political face are coming. You didn’t need to come all this way for that. Especially for a fake marriage.”
“You’re signing papers. It’s real, Hayden,” Lucas says, following Stella inside. Now I’m standing in my own doorway while they scrutinize the condition of my apartment, talking back and forth about the best methods for cleaning and packing my place up.
I watch them, my chest tightening and sweat rolling down my spine. Did the room start spinning? I’m not one prone to anxietyattacks, but I can’t help but feel a little on edge knowing my best friend and the love of her life are going to witness me make a decision that is the equivalent of selling myself out. Realistically, I know they don’t see my decision in that light, but my internal monologue hurls insults at me saying that I’m going against my morals, desires, and standards.
Nobody knew I wanted to marry for love. Not even Stella. Since I was a girl, when someone would bring up the idea of marriage, I would cringe and tell them, “No way.” Around twenty-three, I changed my mind, but for some reason, I couldn’t admit it out loud.
I still can’t.
The world tells me wanting marriage and love is for the birds. I should chase my career and excel. So that’s what I’ve been doing, all while secretly pining for some handsome prince to come sweep me off my feet.
My stubbornness is once again biting me in the rear end. If Stella knew my heart, she’d persuade me not to marry Darcy.
But it’s my secret, and I’m still not bold enough to admit it aloud. Darcy will take care of me, regardless of his snippy comments and frosty exterior. I’ve seen the man behind the mask, and he isn’t that bad. He just needs some love, like a hurt puppy.
And he wants this, too.
He chose me.
Me.
The girl who has always beendisposable.
He trusts me enough to take on the responsibility of becoming his wife, andhe wants it to be me. He dismissed so many other women.
The thought thaws something in my chest I didn’t know was iced over.
“Earth to Hayden. Where are your spare boxes? I know you keep the packages from your online ordering.” Stella places a hand on her hip and cocks her head at me with a smirk. “Are you already lost in the idea of sharing a bed with Darcy?”
“You can leave now,” I deadpan, motioning outside the door. She laughs, a carefree, joyful sound, and another bullet rips through my heart. I want that. I want to be as happy as she is now that she has Lucas. I want my forever person.
“Just kidding. But for real, what are the sleeping arrangements like?” Stella asks. Enough. I have to stop wallowing in my circumstance. It is what it is.
“I’ll have my own room across the mansion from Darcy’s room.” At least I hope it’s far away from his room. With the amount of rooms that estate contains, I’m sure it will be no problem for me to tuck myself away unnoticed unless it’s working hours. “Okay, Avengers. It’s time to assemble.” I place my hands on my hips and tilt my chin to the air. “This apartment isn’t going to clean itself.”
Stella and Lucas chuckle, but then they follow me to my hoard of boxes and—being the blessed souls that they are—helpme pack up my home.
Five hours later, panting and collapsing on the floor, I wheeze out one word: “Finished!”
Stella groans as she crumples beside me. “How did you accumulate that much stuff over four years in this apartment?”
I shrug. “Just happens. I’m a sucker for a sale, after all.”
Joining us on the floor, Lucas harrumphs. “You both are.”
“Soul sisters,” Stella and I say at the same time, then we give each other a high five before falling to our backs on the bare, wooden floor.
Without warning—or my permission—tears prick the corners of my eyes. This little apartment holds so many memories. Stella and I lived in this complex together, right next door to each other. We’ve spent Christmases, Thanksgivings, and birthdays here, just the two of us. I discovered my love of coffee here—prior to Stella, I never drank the stuff. I’ve laughed, cried, celebrated, and sulked in these very walls and on this very floor. Apartment 11H is the first place that truly felt like home to me.
