Ch. 11 - BREAKING A VEIL

JENSYN

I was in the kitchen, helping the maid slice strawberries for a tart I had no intention of eating, when I heard footsteps behind me. It was Andrea. She was always walking barefooted and it made a muted thud. I somehow think she wanted it to be silent, but she walked so fast it was unavoidable to make a thud. 

She murmured something to the maid, Ariana, about her plate. I peeked over my shoulder and she was already halfway to the door.

“Hey,” I said, setting the knife down. “Andrea, wait a sec.”

She didn't stop walking.

I stepped away from the counter and caught up to her. “Can we talk? Just for a minute—”

I touched her gently and that was all it took to see her recoil in anger. She spun around, hee eyes wide with panic. “Don't touch me. Haven’t you done enough?”

I blinked, stunned. Did I push her too hard? “Andrea, I was just trying to—”

“I don't want to talk to you.” She snapped, stepping back like I was something toxic. 

“Andrea, I'm sorry, okay? I just want to apologise.” 

“Leave me alone, I don't need your apology.”

I stepped forward, as if to touch her but I stopped myself because she was saying something. 

“You’re my father’s wife. Not my mother. So stop pretending like you care.”

The words gutted me. So I pretended like I care? Was that how she saw me?

My mouth opened, but I had nothing to say. Nothing that wouldn’t sound like an excuse. She stared at me for another beat, her breath shuddering, her hands clenched at her sides, then she turned and stormed upstairs.

I stood frozen in the hallway, the sound of her retreating steps echoing in my chest.

God. What was I doing?

I wasn’t her mom, I reminded myself. I wasn't even really her stepmother. I was just a woman who happened to marry her dad out of convenience and desperation. I wasn’t supposed to care at all about her. But I did. And it stung because it was clear she didn’t want me anywhere near her.

“I guess I'd just stay away from her.” I said in my head.

I walked back to my room like I was sleepwalking. I shut the door softly and sank onto the bed. My suitcase was half-open, a dress spilling over the side. I had gone to my old apartment to bring in things I needed. I planned to go again, but not without talking to Andrea. It seemed I had free time on my hands anyways.

I began unpacking it, folding the clothes slowly, one by one, like that would make me feel less out of place here.

When my phone rang, I almost didn’t answer. River’s name lit up the screen and I answered anyway.

“Babe!” He said, full of energy as usual. I sometimes wonder if River was ever sad or depressed. He was always enthusiastic. His Sanguine trait sure suits him well. I listened to hear what he was saying. “Hey, I’m sorry for not coming earlier. That day was so insane. I had customers at the gym. Want to hang out now? Coffee? Something stronger, babe?”

I forced a smile into my voice. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Everything okay?” he asked, voice lowering. “You sound off. Did that jerk touch you?”

I hesitated. “I just…” I stopped myself before I said too much. “It's nothing.”

“Oof! Well, you will tell me eventually.”

“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” I whispered.

“Text me the place,” he said. 

I hung up and went to the mirror. My eyes were a little red but that was nothing a bit of eyeliner couldn't hide. I was going to hang out with River, drink coffee, catch up on old times and that would be it.

And maybe, for today, I’d stop trying to earn my place in a house that was never mine to begin with. 

***

“That's fucked up, babe,” River said, stirring his coffee with the little stainless spoon like it had personally offended him.

I let out a short breath, watching the steam rise from my cup. “Yeah. Tell me something I don't know.”

We were seated in a corner booth of the coffee shop I discovered not far from Linden's street. It had dim lights, indie music, and a few potted plants at each side of the shop. The atmosphere was cool for this kind of conversation we were having. River fitted in with the scenery. He always did. He had his easy smile, worn leather jacket, and eyes that could charm the dread. 

“You married him to save your mama?” he asked, leaning back.

I nodded. “It was the only way. It was either this or I'd watch her die slowly.”

River whistled low. “So that guy—Linden. He offered to marry you out of the blue?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” I said, my fingers tightening around my cup. “It started with him helping me get away from Derek, my escort. Then everything escalated. I found out Derek was his brother in law.”

 River tilted his head. “Shit, that's hard.”

“I know.” I added, “I just have to endure for a year.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Well, you wear pearls and drive cars like that.”

I turned to look at the Mercedes Benz packed in the shop's car park and then looked at River. He was right. I had pearls and drove expensive cars. But, was that what I actually wanted? 

“I don't wear pearls.”

“Not the point, babe.”

“I know,” I muttered.

He placed his elbows on the table. “I get it, babe. It's a survival thing. You've got to just focus on that shit and nothing else. It's just for the money, okay?”

“I know.”

“Do you?” His tone softened, but the words hit harder. “Because I know you. You give too much. You forget where your line is, babe.”

I looked down. “Don't paint me as a martyr.”

“Shit, I'm not doing that. But you're trying to make this work. You always do, but you've got to limit it sometimes. Don't let that man see you as too easy.”

“I’m not like that,” I said, but it was too quick, too defensive.

River raised a brow.

I sighed. “Fine. Maybe it is a little like that, but trust me, I've not been easy on Linden. I don't even like him to start with. I asked for his shares and that's just it. I wouldn't allow him to see me as a gold digger because this is a marriage of convenience, but I just have to do what it takes.”

He said nothing for a moment. Then he said, “don't get too attached to anyone inside his family. It's best that way.”

Speaking about attachment. I didn't tell him about Andrea. I didn't tell him about how her words still echoed in my chest like a wound. 

“I’ll keep my head down,” I said instead. “One year. That’s it. I leave when it’s done.”

River studied me like he didn’t quite believe that. Then he smiled, crooked and warm. “You always say you’ll keep your head down. Then you end up building the whole damn house.”

I smiled, it barely reached my eyes. “Watch me well this time.”

“Don’t try too hard. You’re good enough.”

My throat tightened again, for a whole different reason. He reached over and brushed a strand of hair from my face, the way he always did when he was about to say goodbye. This gesture scared me the first time he did it and I had held his hands down, almost begging him not to leave me alone. River understood me then and he promised he wouldn't leave me alone.

“I should go,” he said, standing.

I didn't stand up, so he bent down, pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and whispered, “I’m here, okay?” he murmured. “Always.”

I nodded and held his hand for a while before letting go and watching him go. He didn't have a car. He would probably trek or call his gym workers to come pick him up with a bike. When I first knew him, I called him a tout. He was rough, his English language was bad, and he played too much. It took a long time before he knew how to form correct sentences and speak well.

I was nursing my coffee, eyes on the street, when I caught a shift of air beside me. Someone pulled out the chair across from mine. I didn't look up from the cup until a hand reached over and almost closed over mine.

“What—” I turned up and saw—Arthur.

He didn't say anything at first, he just sat and looked at me like he knew something I didn't know. I straightened, my heart beating fast.

“I didn’t expect to see you in my favourite café,” he said, voice tight. 

I didn't say anything and he continued. 

“It's quite cozy here.” He said with a faint smile. “Your friend made sure of it.”

“He’s a friend,” I said immediately.

Arthur raised a brow but didn’t press. “You don’t owe me explanations, Sawyer. But I do have something I need to talk to you about.”

I hesitated. “What is it?”

He leaned forward slightly. “Not here. I’d rather we talk somewhere... quieter. My place.”

My stomach fluttered. “Arthur—”

“It’s important.” He said and stood up slowly. “Come or don’t. But you must hear me.”

And with that, he walked away.