“Fine, it’s your wedding. I’ll craft a copper shawl.”
Shelly tugs at my forearm. “No, have James craft it.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, that wasn’t in your demands. Got to be clearer when using your bride powers.”
“Bride powers?” she laughs. “I like the sound of that.”
“Don’t let the authority go to your head.” I say bride powers because I’m too scared to voice it’s possible these are her last wishes. Since my outburst at their house I haven’t dared mention the gold vial tucked in my clothes. But I carry it with me always and right now the vial burns hot in my pocket.
Bells jingle over the door before Shelly responds. My muscles tense seeing the man entering. Partly because it’s the last person I’d assume would come to a place like this. Mr. Murphy stands before us, a frown etched on his face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVEWHEN YOU MUST OBEY
JAMES
The deal was my idea. My idea.And yet, I’m literally the worst at keeping up with the facade. Farren needs something and I jump before thinking how that would look. Crafting metal for a wedding is the most obvious expression of affection there is. I’m guessing my father crafted my mother’s jewelry for their ceremony. He should be the one still buying or crafting my mom’s headpieces, shawls, or corsets for every event, but I’ve done it so many times now that I’ve forgotten the more intimate and romantic implication. Mom, even when she hugs me in thanks, is always focused on how creating them advances my fine-detail skills in crafting. It’s become just another task to improve myself.
No matter my excuse, this is a huge oversight on my part. A hundred years ago and that statement would have implied a proposal.
As soon as Jeffrey and I are a literal wall of fabrics away from the girls, Jeffrey turns on me with a spark in his eyes. “Ask Farren to be your date to the wedding.”
I knew he suspected my feelings and yet, still I’m startled. “What?”
“I know you like her. Shelly and I are trying to help you.”
“It’s not like that.”
He straightens. “Okay, tell me to my face you don’t like her.”
“I don’t—”
“You’re not that good of a liar, James.” He smiles. “I couldn’t exactly read you at first. But I know one thing.” He points at me. “You, my friend, like—”
I push his finger down. “Okay. Okay. Can you not be so loud about it?”
His grin grows brighter. “Not many people think of me as loud,” he laughs. True. I’d thought Jeffrey a quiet man, with his laugh the only thing loud about him, but that was at the beginning. I’ve since learned he’s like a lighthouse, waiting for someone to shine his light on. I’ve been caught in the beam of attention and with the way he looks happy for me, it might not be a bad thing.
“Farren’s not mean-spirited. The worst thing she’ll say is no. I could even—”
“You can’t tell her,” I interrupt, realizing that’s on the table of possibilities.
“I wouldn’t. Not until you did.”
“Which isn’t going to happen.”
He folds his arms. “Shelly and I are confused on that. Why not?”
“For one, she’s out of my league.”
“James.” He shakes his head like I imagine an older brother might giving advice to his sibling. “Farren is out of everyone’s league.”
“I know, but no one knows that. Myparentsdon’t know that,” I stress.
The realization dawns across his face. “And they would have a problem.”
“So much of a problem that they would look into the Walshes closely. Too closely.”
“Nity,” he says, so softly it’s a whisper.
