Second Hearts (The Wishes Series) (42 page)

“What does it have to do with Adam?”

“Well, this whole debacle of signing Billet-doux over to you was designed to occupy you. Obviously it failed.”

“That wasn’t kind.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it, Fairy Pants. It’s painful to watch.” I turned and stared at him for a long time, trying to work out his motive for being so nasty. “You’re his most prized possession, his caged little bird. I wonder if he’s worked out that he’s losing you.”

I felt a flutter of panic as I considered the possibility that he was seeing something I’d missed. I knew I wasn’t the most content I’d ever been, but I was hanging in there.

“I’m right here. And I’m going to see it through because I love him, which is something you weren’t brave enough to do.”

A confused frown swept his forehead while he tried to figure out what I was talking about. He got there quickly. “You’re talking about Bente?” I nodded. “You just don’t get it. Why do you think I let her go?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

He shook his head. “How could Bente and I ever work out, Charli? She’d be just as miserable in my world as you are in Adam’s. I couldn’t do it to her. I wish my brother had shown you the same consideration.”

“Why are you being so awful?”

“Like I said, I’m calling it as I see it.”

I didn’t like the way he was seeing it. There was far more in play than Ryan’s disgruntlement at having to share Billet-doux with me, and I was in no mood to deal with it.

34. Peace

I hadn’t expected New York summers to be so glorious. Sunny July days made for fantastic beach weather, which was ironic considering I was stuck in Manhattan.

Adam was busier than ever, succeeding in his quest to become the most diligent law student to ever hit Columbia University, which left me in the unenviable position of trying to kill time without injuring my happy ever after. In order to do that, I’d had to tweak my attitude.

Calling a truce with the purple circle was a necessary evil. Occasionally dealing with them wasn’t too toxic to my soul. It usually just resulted in fake niceties, false smiles and an overwhelming urge to shower afterwards.

Apparently, the best way to prove that I was with Adam for the long haul was to actually stick around for the long haul. Six months into my New York life, Parker realised it. Even Kinsey eventually realised it. The only one still holding out for my demise was Whitney, who retained the opinion that I was nothing more than a home-wrecking whore. Other than electric shock therapy or filing for divorce, nothing was going to change her mind. I’d long since given up the fight.

Seraphina and I had become unlikely friends. We had next to nothing in common, but she was great company and nowhere near as dreary as the rest of her purple circle teammates. I was surprised to learn that she had a creative streak. She was a student at an elite design school, a gig as prestigious as any Ivy League college.

I had to admit defeat when it came to appreciating her talent, though. I tried to appear enthusiastic as we sat in a coffee shop, poring over her latest portfolio of designs. But to me, yellow denim and pink tulle didn’t seem like such a great combination.

“These are great,” I lied encouragingly.

“They’ll look better in the flesh,” she replied, snapping the folder shut. “I’m going to find some girls to model them and have my very first photo shoot.”

“Well, that’s exciting.”

“I was hoping you’d see it that way,” she replied, shifting agitatedly in her seat. “I was hoping you’d shoot it for me.”

“Who are you going to get to model for you?”

A lot depended on her answer. I had vast experience when it came to photographing amateur pageant princesses, a task Ivy still called on me to do on a regular basis. But I’d never photographed anyone experienced enough to recognise that
I
was a complete amateur.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Probably Whitney and Kinsey.”

“I would
love
to shoot Whitney and Kinsey.”

“Great,” she enthused, ignoring the double entendre. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

I had no qualms about helping Sera out, especially if it involved taking pictures. Photography was the one thing that had kept me sane and grounded over the months. My portfolio had become so huge that I found myself changing the pictures on the walls at Billet-doux every few days. Some sold and some made their way into the back storeroom, which had now become too crowded to walk around in.

Other than occasional fairy high teas, decorating the walls with pictures was practically my only contribution to Billet-doux, which pleased Ryan no end. I played by the rules and attended every meeting he summoned me to, which usually consisted of him pretending to ask for my input or threatening to send my pictures to the bottom of the Hudson if I didn’t clear out the storeroom.

I’d given up trying to rebel against the life I’d stumbled into. I just took solace in the fact that it was temporary. I didn’t hate living in Manhattan, but as the months slipped by the prospect of leaving was something I began to look forward to more each day.

***

No matter how hectic Adam’s schedule was, Sundays were always reserved for the two of us. We usually headed out for a late breakfast and took the rest of the day as it came. That particular morning, we ended up at a café in Central Park, sitting at an outside table eating chocolate croissants. The sun was warm but the smile on the face of the boy sitting opposite me was warmer.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, a little unnerved.

“I can’t help it. You’re incredibly beautiful.”

“Had you forgotten?” I teased. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen me.”

Adam saw through the lightly veiled dig. His grip on my hand tightened as he brought my fingers to his lips. “I’m doing my best, Charli,” he defended. “School is crazy right now, the workload is huge.”

“I know,” I mumbled, feeling a little guilty for even mentioning it. “But I miss you when you’re not around.” Sometimes I missed him even when he was around. Quiet nights in that were sabotaged by hours of extra studying made it feel like we were both working toward a law degree.

A long walk always remedied the sins of spending too much time apart during the week and eating croissants for breakfast. Plenty of people milled around, enjoying their lazy Sunday morning. Occasionally we’d step to the side to make room for joggers or people walking faster than us, but it still didn’t seem crowded. Central Park was one of the few places in New York that never felt congested to me. The winding paths, trees and rolling lawns had been my saviours more than once.

Adam favoured the walking route to the Conservatory Water over all others. The pull for him was the model sailing boats that were in abundance when the weather was fine. That day was no different. His attention drifted to an impressive yacht being manoeuvred around the lake by a small boy. The boy’s father constantly tried giving him instruction, but short of wrestling it away, he had no chance of getting hold of the remote control.

“The sails aren’t rigged properly,” whispered Adam from the corner of his mouth. “It could go much faster.”

I looked at the father trying to win the war against his boy – who giggled manically like an evil professor every time he lurched for the controls. “I don’t think either of them are worried about the lack of speed,” I joked, whispering the words into the sleeve of his shirt.

“She is beautiful, though, right?” he asked, gawking at the model sloop as if she were some long lost lover.

I took a closer look at the little blue boat bobbing on the lake. “It looks like
La Coccinelle
,” I said.

“She does,” he agreed, glancing at me as he smiled.

I suddenly felt a little ache for home. Memories of Adam working on the rundown old boat he had lovingly restored in Gabrielle’s shed flooded my head. It reminded me of how much had changed since then… and how much had stayed the same. I was a little older, a fraction wiser and still madly in love with the boy with the cerulean eyes.

“Adam, when we leave here, where will we go?”

He slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, making my forward stride reminiscent of a drunk being accompanied home.

“I don’t know,” he replied, sounding totally uninterested. “I thought you’d have it all figured out.”

“We could go home for a while, to the Cove.” It was the very first time I’d mentioned going back to Australia. It might have been the first time I’d even thought about it.

“Of all the places I thought you’d want to go, I wasn’t expecting it to be there.”

“Do you hate the idea?”

Tightening his hold, he pulled me in impossibly closer. “I don’t hate any of your ideas.”

Sometimes I wondered if ambiguity was a skill taught at Columbia. If so, he was undoubtedly head of the class. Talking about our plans beyond the end of law school wasn’t one of Adam’s favourite topics, and he avoided it like a pro.

He was slightly tormented by the fact that I hadn’t found my niche in New York. It no longer bothered me. Once broken down, the reason why was a simple one: I just didn’t belong. And Adam hated being reminded of it. And making plans beyond life in New York was the biggest reminder of all.

I stopped walking, forcing him to a stop. “Eventually we’re going to have to talk about this.”

“For now, I’d rather you just find your place here and settle in,” he replied, either missing or ignoring my ire. “Life happens while you’re making other plans.”

“You’re seriously going to rip off John Lennon quotes to lecture me?”

He replied slowly, trying to mask his amusement. “No, Charlotte. I’m merely suggesting that you do what you used to do best and live in the moment.”

I pulled free and began walking away. I should’ve known he wouldn’t follow. Adam never followed. When it came to enduring my hissy fits, he was the master. In order to continue the conversation, I had to stop and turn back. “Do you want to know what else John Lennon said?” I asked, stamping back toward him.

“Well, he was the one who urged us all to give peace a chance.” He flashed me a lazy half-dimpled smile, which was his most crippling form of warfare. “Maybe you should give it a try.”

“You’re an idiot,” I accused. “Which is ironic, because he also said that behind every idiot is a great woman. That would be me.”

He reached out to me the second my rant was over, kissed the corner of my mouth and dipped
me so far backward my hair brushed the ground. “I’ve always known that to be true.”

“Good,” I huffed, clinging to him. “As long as you know.”

He swiftly righted me. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

It was an almost-argument we’d had a hundred times before, and the outcome was never any different. I was left making plans in my own head, biding my time until I’d mention it again.

***

Adam had been right about one thing. My modus operandi of living in the moment had waned over time. I put it down to a lack of inspiration, but the quirk wasn’t entirely lost. Somehow I’d managed to transfer a little of my craziness to my mother-in-law.

Spending time with the queen once she’d given up the quest to oust me from her kingdom was harder than avoiding her when she hated me. To preserve my sanity, I made sure our bonding sessions were structured events. Keeping her away from ritzy boutiques and introducing her to markets and vintage thrift shops brought out a whole new side of her. When I could get Fiona out of her Manhattan headspace, she could be an extraordinarily interesting person, especially when talking about her pre Jean-Luc life.

She’d once told me that her first job was as an usherette at a cinema. “They used to issue us with gorgeous black silk stockings as part of the uniform. They were much better quality than I could have afforded. I literally worked for stockings,” she remembered. She giggled then, totally unabashed by the revelation.

I loved how far we’d come. Not everyone welcomed the change, though. Ryan was constantly accusing me of bringing out the worst in her, especially on days when she’d decide to return to her roots and introduce her family to pieces of her heritage. That day’s lesson in tradition came via her decision to singlehandedly cook Ryan’s birthday dinner. Both of her sons had been dreading it since she first mentioned it. Now that they were sitting in her lounge room, minutes away from actually eating her home cooked meal, they looked positively terrified.

I’d grown up eating abominable meals cooked by Alex. She’d have to be a truly terrible chef to top his efforts. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” I insisted, unsure of which brother needed the most reassuring.

“The woman hasn’t cooked a meal in twenty years,” said Ryan bleakly. “There’s a reason why.”

“You’re both being babies.”

Adam shook his head. “He’s not exaggerating, Charli.”

Ryan interjected. “I didn’t even bring a date. I couldn’t think of anyone I disliked enough.”

The glass doors began to slide open and I shushed them, fearing it was their mother. Jean-Luc skulked into the room, completing the trio of sullen, frightened men. Grandma Nellie shuffled in behind him carrying the cutest little brown dog I’d ever seen.