If I leave town over the weekend, I’ll miss another payment and incur another penalty; my lender will move the due date for my loan up another week. But I’m fucked regardless if I can’t get another loan to pay this one off, and I can’t get a legitimate loan without that signing bonus as collateral and proof of long-term employment. Which means my book—my case study—takes priority.
And my case study depends on Daphne.
I flip my unlit cigarillo over my fingers. “If I take you with me, we’ll need to hold our next courtship lesson over the weekend. And since I’m supposed to arrive Friday and the train ride there is a long fucking haul, we’ll have to leave early Thursday evening and miss work on Friday. Probably Monday too.”
“Friday is my illustration day,” she says, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, “and Mr. Fletcher often lets me do illustration work from home. Missing work Monday shouldn’t be a problem either. I rarely take time off.”
“Then I guess…” I pause to watch her squirm a little, to watch her eyes grow rounder with pleading and her smile grow sweeter. “I guess you can come with me.”
Daphne collides with me, her arms encircling my waist in a crushing hug. She’s surprisingly strong for a woman so small in stature. She hops in place while hugging me, her cheek crushed to my chest and making my whole torso shake from the force of her excitement. Then she tilts her head back and meets my gaze, her eyes crinkled with joy. “Thank you.”
My breath catches, my pulse quickening. I’m struck dumb looking at her, at her adorable expression, the coral flush in her cheeks, the mussed strands of her hair from where she squished her cheek against my chest. Her body is soft against me, yet her arms continue to hold tight around my waist. My hands are still loose at my sides, but I’m suddenly aware of them, curious about how it would feel to return her hug?—
She steps back, releasing me, and brings her fists under her chin in a bashful gesture while her grin remains wide. “Sorry. I got too excited.”
“It’s fine,” I say, mortified at how soft and choked my voice sounds.
“Don’t I get to pick the next lesson topic?” she asks, unaware of the effect her spontaneous hug had on me. “You said we could alternate who chooses our topic if I wanted.”
I do my best to recover my senses and arch a brow at the manuscript, still on the table where I left it the last time I was here. “Have you read my book yet?”
The guilt shows all over her face. “No, but I will. I’ll read it this week.”
“Then if you have any requests, you can make them. Meanwhile, I’ll draft out a lesson plan I believe would be most effective for our circumstances.”
She gives an exuberant nod.
I see myself out, but only after Daphne thanks me a thousand times more.
Once outside, I heave a sigh and light my cigarillo. I find I don’t need the herbal blend’s calming effects. Even though I’m wary about leaving next weekend and attending a damn wedding, I’m relaxed too.
As I proceed down the sidewalk, I absently rub my palm over the middle of my chest. I know I’m only imagining things, but my shirt still feels warm where Daphne crushed herself against me. Or maybe it’s my chest that’s warm. Or my heart? Whatever the case, I must be a madman for agreeing to take a woman to a wedding with me. Daphne doesn’t know what a big deal society places on gestures like taking a date to a wedding, though even if she did, she knows it’s not like that with us. Besides, I’m escorting my sister to the wedding too. I’m only taking Daphne so she can work on her illustration and so that I can help her make progress in finding a husband.
My jaw tenses at the thought, bringing a flash of anger along with it. I hate the idea of setting Daphne up with another idiot like Conrad. Or maybe I hate the idea of setting her up with anyone. I don’t know a soul who’s good enough for her. Not that I make a habit of knowing many people these days.
Still, I must try. I must do more than enjoy our time together. I must do more than focus on my case study. Her needs are just as great as mine, and if she doesn’t marry by Lughnasadh, she’ll be bound to someone worse than Conrad. At least I assume Clyde the fucking honey badger is worse because he participated in a handfasting ritual with a drunk person. Not only that, but she’ll have to stay in her hometown.
And I’ll never see her again.
The thought makes my stomach roil.
I take a long drag from my cigarillo and breathe my worries away. Shifting all my stressors aside, I’m left with a prospect equal parts terrifying and exciting: I’m going to spend an entire weekend with Daphne.
CHAPTER TWENTY
DAPHNE
The last time I boarded a train was during The Heartbeats Tour. Traveling on one now fills me with nostalgia for that month of my life when we rode from city to city, staying in a new place every few days. I didn’t appreciate it much at the time and found the whole ordeal quite a bother. The crowded train cars grated on my nerves, as did the busy events Monty and I were responsible for managing. Even though I didn’t socialize after hours with the new friends I’d made, I began to enjoy myself more.
Now I can say with certainty that I miss those days.
“This almost feels like before, doesn’t it?” I grin at Monty across the small table between us, set with tea and cookies. We’re seated in the public car on a pair of velvet-cushioned seats that line the wood-paneled interior. Emerald-green drapes flank windows that glow with late afternoon sunlight, a view of the Earthen Court countryside speeding past on a palette of every shade of green. Our accommodations aren’t as comfortable as the private compartments we traveled in during the tour, but our travels aren’t funded by a company budget this time. We’ll be here for the entire eighteen-hour ride. Thankfully, the public car isn’t too crowded and our fellow passengers keep to themselves, their conversations too hushed to carry.
“Yes,” Monty says, “except you’re not sleeping on the luggage rack.”
My grin widens. That was how I preferred to pass my time during train rides back then. I’d doze away from the rest of the group, always keeping one ear open to rejoin my party only when I found a conversation topic of interest. I was so shy back then. So anxious I might say the wrong thing or forget myself and go against social norms. It was only last year that I confessed this to Edwina, and she’d had no idea. She thought I came across as clever and confident. She thought I took time to myself or stayed quiet because I preferred my own company over socializing. While that is somewhat true, it doesn’t represent how I feel inside. My yearning to fit in versus my dislike of loud places and tedious conversations. My love for my friends and my desire to spend time with them versus my protection over my comfort levels.
Yet a couple of times now, Monty has helped me find balance between the sides at war within me. Like when he brought me the noise-softening candy floss. Or our shooting game during the carnival. Or running through the rain afterward.
