Page 67 of Gilded Fake

“Maybe,” I admit, thinking about the ones I didn’t find in my console, the ones I thought fell out of my wallet. I remember Dixie standing in there at the island, making our drinks. Asking if it was a good idea when I downed it so fast. A pool of cold dread forms in my stomach.

“Colt,” Gloria says, sounding stricken. “You can’t marry her. If she’d do that to get you, what will she do to keep you?”

My laugh sounds forced and halfhearted even to my own ears. “You think she’s going to go all black widow on me, poison me and take my money?”

“I think she’s dangerous,” she says flatly. “She gets away with murder because she plays this sad little victim role, so people underestimate her. But she knows exactly what she’s doing. Think about how long she must have been planning my demise.”

“Yeah, she did you dirty.”

“So what’s she going to do to you?” she asks, a shiver running through her.

I hold her tighter, the coldness in my own stomach refusing to go away, even when I’m pressed to Lo’s warm body. I kiss the top of her head. “If she finds out about us…”

“I wouldn’t put it past her to go full femme fatale,” she says. “If she can’t have you, no one can.”

“I’m not too worried about it,” I say, trying to reassure her by sounding like it’s no big deal. “I can handle her.”

“Like how you’ve been handling her?” she asks. “Is that what you call asking her to marry you when you’re so fucked up you don’t even remember proposing?”

I start to brush away her concern again, but then I see the seriousness in her sapphire eyes. I remember Dixie’s words at Grandpa Darling’s that day—“My dad has a gun”—and the missing pills, the ring on her finger, the vicious way she went after her supposed friend so she could claim her spot on the throne. I frown down at this beautiful, fragile, broken butterfly queen in my arms, holding her tighter, as if I could protect her even when I’m not there. “You might be right about the lengths she’ll go to,” I say slowly. “I’m not scared of her. But I’m afraid for you.”

sixteen

Rumor Has It… The official king and queen of WHPA are cementing their high school sweetheart and couple-to-beat status by tying the knot. Will they wait for her career to take off before the ceremony, or are they already planning the wedding of the century?

Gloria Walton

“What’s it going to be, butterfly?” Colt asks, swinging out of the parking lot of Cliff’s, where he just insisted on feeding me a steak dinner. “Coffee, bubble tea, or a root beer float? Choice is yours.”

“Damn,” I say. “That’s cold.”

He just laughs. “We can get something else if you want.”

“How can I pick between those?”

“Which will be best for stargazing?”

“Floats,” I decide.

“Good choice,” he says, reaching over to squeeze my knee.

“But as much as I’d love to make this day last even longer, I actually have to go to work. It’s Saturday night.”

“I already rented the room for the entire night,” he says with a smug grin, pulling into the drive-through for Two Scoops of Love. “That means you’re mine for the night.”

“I still have to work,” I protest.

“Why?” he asks, after ordering for us. “They got their money. What do they care if you’re in the room or not?”

“They might care.”

“Besides, how are you going to dance, when I have to carry you around?” he asks, handing me a float. “Am I supposed to run you around the stage, spinning you around, and showing you off to a bunch of empty seats?”

I laugh picturing it. “Fine. But if I get fired, I’ll lose my apartment, and then I’ll have to live in your attic like Rochester’s crazy wife.”

“Actually you’d be Jane,” he says, pulling away from the ice cream shoppe. “Dixie would be the crazy wife.”

“Lock the door and throw away the key, and all our problems will be solved,” I say, feeling like an evil bitch for the thought. But evil bitch was my main mode for long enough that it’s a comfortable place to return to all the same.

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