Two poets. Perfect for each other.
“Darling.”
I jump out of my skin—caught in the act of shippingreal people, notNPCs. Turning, I find Ines splayed against an archway that leads into a backroom.
Her teeth flash in a grin that appears, for a moment, almost fanged. “Tell meeverything.”
Everythingeverything?
No, no. I can’t do that.
That is anawful lot, and I’m not ready to go there. Maybe I never will be ready to go there. Maybeeverythingeverything will remain a secret that only Samson ever knows. But the secret I’m keeping from him…? Yeah. That’s a different story.
That’s what she’s talking about.
Because that’s what I wrote her about when I asked for help…
That’s hereverythingeverything.
So I blurt, “I’m very badly in love with Samson. I’d like to propose. Mimet scares me. The city scares me. I don’t know how to get a circlet on my own.” I suck in a breath, remembering a horrible addendum, and grafting in: “Also, I want to get married on the island off the coast, which means I need to coordinate building Laumon a whole boat. A-assuming Samson evenwantsto marry me…which he might not, but I won’t know unless I try, right? And I can’t try without help, because I’m still very new to the concept ofputting myself out there.” Weepy, I sniffle. “Please help me?”
Ines stares into the dank cavities of my soul. She blinks her kohl-lined eyes once. Then she snorts. “Back up, preferably away from theisland. Does Samson know you two are dating right now? He seemed quite oblivious to your feelings when I saw you both last.”
“Um.” Phew. “No, we aren’t dating right now, actually, so there’s nothing for him to know about that.”
“You’re not dating. You’re just skipping straight to a marriage proposal?”
I press my lips together and tangle my fingers. When she puts it that way, it sounds very stupid.Isound very stupid. And,yet… “Yes? I mean. I just… I love him. We already do everything together. Dating doesn’t feel like the next step. I want to be with him forever. I want to get married. S-so…I’m skipping straight to letting him know that.”
“Excellent.” Hooking a finger at me, she whirls, sashaying into the back room. “I fully agree of course. Dating is so overrated. When you know, you know. Come.”
I trail after her into a den of fabrics laid out as chaotically as the book she brought to Samson’s house weeks ago. The color splashes distract me wholly before my attention finally settles on a mannequin taking up the center of the explosion.
White.
With hints of sunshine yellow.
My mouth drops open. “You… You weren’t joking?”
“About making you a wedding dress covered in tiny lace lemons?” She barks a laugh. “No. Of course I wasn’t. I’d never joke about something like that.”
Breathless, I inch toward the pooling fabric layered in abundant lace. “It’s actually covered in tiny lemons…”
“Yup.” She pops the “p.” “Big fan of your branding. Super cute. Speaking of, Autumn’s started, so I have a new set of clothes for you. Samson ordered them when he stopped by…a few days ago…for no important reason. The trick has been making lemons fit outside the expected Summer wear.” Her gaze skims my overall dress, with my wonderful lemon pocket. “Since Sammy seems to like skirts, I hope you don’t mind fleece-lined tights. Fleece-lined tights are an integral part of your Autumn and Winter wardrobes. What do you think about fleece-lined tights, Citrus?”
I think I need to sit down.
Alas.
There are no chairs in this emporium of utter creativity.
“Tights are…fine.” I can’t drag my attention off the dress or its accompanying necklace of lemon charms. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, and for the first time in a while, I’m convinced I’m dreaming again.
This can’t be happening.
This doesn’t happen to me.
People aren’t this kind or considerate with me.
