“I knew that silver spoon was a piece of crap!” Jane cried, speaking of William. “How dare he stick his nose in my affairs! Just you wait ... I’ll cancel him all over social media. The Darcy name will be shit when I get through with him. Hashtag Destroy Pemberley.”
Internally, she laughed. As if Jane had any power or influence. She had a measly fifty followers on InstaFace. William would squash her like a cockroach under his cowboy boot (did he still have them?) if she messed with the Darcy reputation. As it was, Jane was lucky he only gave her a cold shoulder and a heat-seeking missile stare down at the reception.
Arguing with her sister was futile, but a word of caution was necessary, as this could easily spill over into her La Tempera world. “Jane, you shouldn’t mess with the Darcy family. William will sue you into oblivion if you slander him or his family name. Then you’ll never get Charlie back.”
“Oh my God! You’re taking his side? I’m the slandered, innocent one! And don’t think I’ve already forgotten how you dissed meandGeorge on the dancefloor. One dance with your ex and you’re already defending him, and betraying me by throwing me, your fiancé, and your career to the curb for a drunken piece of entitled crap!”
Here’s the rage. Tread lightly, Lizzy. Call your therapist in the morning. Breathe, hold onto the light within.
“Sweetie, I’m not takinganyside.Everyonewas drunk last night, even Charlie, evenme! I’m sure we all did or said something regrettable. It’ll all work out. You’ll see. Charlie will come back, and you’ll forgive him for this silly misunderstanding. Why wouldn’t he take you back? You’re wonderful. You’re beautiful and everything he could want in a girlfriend,” she pandered to keep the rage at a minimum by telling Jane what she wanted to hear. Looking over at her sister’s mascara-streaked face she smiled thoughtfully.Poor thing, to be so tied to her unrealistic narrative of things.
Jane snorted. Now, that was something she had never heard from her proper sister. “You should ask your fiancé whathedid last night. He’s no saint, you know, but a hell of a lot better than your ex. Then again, you’re no trip to Paris either.”
Don’t bite. Don’t ask. She’s baiting you, trying to hurt you because she’s hurting. You do not need to respond to or feed her rage.This was exactly why she moved two thousand miles away from family. She should have remained in Paris and let the ungrateful woman continue to stay on in the Queens apartment, paying for it herself! In France, she had escaped demons and some ghosts, even if she lost her desire to create after word came of Anne’s passing. She could kick herself for imprudently returning to New York.
“Are you listening, Lizzy?”
She simply smiled and nodded, sending the attention whore back to her victimhood.
“I really liked him and now it’s all ruined because of you and that asshole. To think I wasted free coffee and money on all those gifts I bought Charlie. What a fucking ingrate! He doesn’t deserve me.”
Of course, Jane thought she was innocent. She was always either the martyr, the victim, or the hero, but finally, someone was making her accountable for interfering.
Listening, even with half an ear, to Jane’s continued rant, an uncontrollable, visceral reaction surged within Lizzy. Trapped within the malevolent shit storm, her fight or flight kicked in. Panicked, she pressed the gas pedal, unable to escape the vitriol and circular word salad thrown at her in ear-piercing decibels. Inside, she wanted to run from her skin; the world spun in an unidentifiable cyclone of fraying nerves. Her stomach clenched and cramped. She broke into a cold sweat. Trying to rein in her anxiety, she counted, focusing on her breathing. One, two, three, four ... Imagining beautiful, happy things, she tried to refocus away from the raging monster at her right side.
A happy memory forced her inner light to smile.
“I’m crying my eyes out over here as my world comes to an end and you’re laughing? I would have taken the train back to the city had I thought you’d be this heartless over my pain. This is all your fault. You’re just like Dad and Charlotte. What an ingrate she turned out to be! You know what? I’m glad Charlotte’s as fat as a house now. I hope she gets a divorce from that loser she married. Their baby is probably the ugliest kid in America! Why do I even bother?”
Now came the expected silent treatment. Jane switched the radio on, clearly unhappy that Lizzy wasn’t fighting back.
Never once, neither last night nor this morning, had her sister asked, “How do you feel about seeing William againafter all these years?” “Are you okay?” “Oh, Lizzy, your heart must be going through hell seeing him with Charlie’s sister!” “He’s getting married to your new client, wow! Talk about coincidences!” Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Again, not that she’d tell her about the cyclone of feelings seeing William stirred up in her, but it would have been nice to be asked or a shoulder offered to cry on. Yup, she was ostensibly sitting beside her mother and welcomed the music relief and petulant stonewalling.
It was at the two-and-a-half-hour mark of the journey toward dumping Jane off in Queens, then home, her preserve of solitude in Brooklyn, that she decided to daydream about happier times with William dancing to the cheerful song playing on the radio.
SIXTEEN
She’d never forget dancing in William’s sweltering apartment galley kitchen to “Can’t Stop the Feeling.”
Although he hated pop music, he never argued with her choice or the volume. In fact, he never argued with her about anything other than her hogging the blankets, snoring, and leaving her dirty socks on the sofa, neat freak that he was. She felt amazing whenever she spent time in his lofty slice of Manhattan. Here, everything was perfect.
Making chili, she chopped onions with impressive timing to the beat, feet sliding along the tiled floor, shoulders bopping up and down, booty shaking. All while feeling his eyes riveted to her from the kitchen threshold. Shirtless, because the radiator worked overtime in the bristling cold outside, William clutched the top of the door frame with both muscular arms. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she saucily grinned, winked, then deliberately wiggled her bottom to the lyrics, “dance, dance, dance.”
Changing the knife for a carrot stick, she held the microphone to her mouth, adding her voice, singing about sunshine.
Barefoot, he came behind her, putting his hands on her hips, dancing to the rhythm with her.
She laughed, loving all his playful moves: grinding against her, turning her around, adding funky sixties dance arms, until it broke into a tickle fest when the song ended.
Gazing up into his dancing eyes, she noted how content he was, so different than the severe man she’d met onlysix months earlier. Love changes people; it certainly changed them individually and together. They seemed to radiate off one another, like their souls had merged.
“You give me all the best feels, William,” she said.
“That’s my goal. You deserve to always be happy. You know, getting away from your apartment might be the best start! I like when you’re here.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I am happiest here with you. Actually, I’m happy wherever you are.”
“Then, until you hear back about passing your exams for Beaux-Arts, move in with me, Lizzy. Keep your place in Queens but move in here until we figure out what’s next. I’ll continue to pay the rent over there for your sister if that’s the issue.”
