Page 28 of Gilded Fake

“I never wanted a king,” I yell over the pounding rain. “I just wanted—I wanted—”

I want to say, “You.” To tell him what I wanted, what I still want. But I can’t say it.

“What?” he demands. “You wanted to be queen, but you didn’t want a king? You just tolerated them to get what you wanted, and they found out, and that’s why they dumped you?”

“No,” I say, slapping my hand down on June Bug’s roof in frustration. “I didn’t want any of it! I know that’s hard for you to believe because it means so much to you, but I never wanted to be queen. I never wanted to be anything but yours!”

He stares at me a long moment, absorbing the words I just said at the same time I do. I’m shaking from the cold, but the tears pouring from my eyes burn like acid. I take a shaky breath, knowing it’s too late to go back, to do damage control.

What does it matter anyway? The damage has been done for months, years.

He’s right about one thing. I have nothing to lose anymore.

“But you didn’t want that,” I say, spitting the bitter words at him. “So what difference does it make if I tell you we fucked once, or ten times, or a hundred? You’d still choose Dixie.”

“I didn’t know I had another choice,” he snaps. “You knew. You could have had me. But you chose yourself.”

“I could have had you?” I ask, a crazy, incredulous laugh bubbling up inside me. “How? You chose her. You always chose her. Do you think it was easy seeing you with her this year, and knowing you were happy so I couldn’t ruin that, while I was fucking miserable every god damn day because you didn’t even remember me?”

“Because you never told me,” he shouts, throwing his hands up.

“I couldn’t,” I scream back at him.

“Why?” he demands. “Because you thought I’d tell Dixie, and she’d destroy you? She did that already.”

“She already knows,” I snap. “That’s why she went after me like that. And yeah, I kept it from you, but she did too. At least I was trying to protect you, even if I did it in some fucked up way you’ll never understand. She’s supposed to be on your side, isn’t she?”

“Why would she keep that from me?” he asks, his voice quieter now, which only makes my breath hitch harder as I shudder violently from the cold.

“Because she didn’t want you to know,” I yell, throwing my hands up in frustration. “How can you not see this? She’s afraid you won’t choose her, so she didn’t give you that option.”

“And you’re telling me this now, hoping we’ll break up?” he asks. “Why? You know I still won’t choose you.”

“Because I—” I break off, interrupted by a bolt of lightning forking through the sky, followed instantly by a crack of thunder that shakes the ground. A gust of wind slams a curtain of water into us, so hard it knocks me back a step.

“What?” Colt presses. “You what, Gloria? Spit it out so I can walk away and never have to look at your face again.”

“I love you!” I scream the words at him, the rain slamming down so hard it almost drowns my voice. I won’t be silenced anymore, though. Not by the Dolces, not by him, not by god himself. “I fucking love you, okay?”

He takes a step back, staring at me like I’m suddenly a stranger.

“Is that what you want to hear?” I demand, the words I’ve held inside so long pouring out. “Because I do. I love you, and I’m sorry, I’ve tried to stop and I just—”

“You love yourself,” he says flatly.

“No,” I say, my voice so firm it surprises even me. It gives me more strength to know I can speak like that to him, the one person who always, always gets under my skin, makes my head spin, and leaves me a mess. So I keep going. “The Dolces may have made every other choice for me for the past two years, but they didn’t get to tell me how I feel. And you don’t either.”

He stares at me a long moment. “What, exactly, do you hope to gain by telling me that?”

I let out a growl of frustration. “Nothing! Not everyone is out to get something from you. The fact that you think they are says more about your relationship than it does about my motivations.”

“So what’s your motivation?” he demands. “You think I’m going to say it back?”

My heart drops to my toes. Even though I never thought that for an instant, some miniscule, irrational, primitive part of me had the barest sliver of hope…

“No,” I say firmly, cutting myself off from entertaining the possibility. “I would never expect that.”

“Good,” he says. “Because I don’t. You’re a despicable person.”

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