Page 73 of Always Be an Us

And then I met Xavier.

A boy from California with dreamy eyes and floppy blonde hair that I fell head over heels for.

We met while I was serving as a waitress at a fancy country club. He was polite even though he spoke with a fancy accent and wore Ralph Lauren shirts. He smiled when he ordered and left a hundred-dollar tip even though it was only a twenty-dollar order. He also left his number right on the receipt.

Things moved quickly after we started talking. Within a week I was his girlfriend. He came home with me for Thanksgiving two months later, claiming he wanted to see my home, and also wanted to avoid his chaotic family. I was happy and proud to show him Laketown and all it had to offer.

On the second day of our visit, we went hiking and then made love by a shallow pond. That was when Xavier found a pearl right by my head and he picked it up.

"What's that?" he said.

I excitedly explained to him what he found, and though he laughed a little at my explanation, he didn't make fun of me for believing in fantastical things.

"Here you go," he said, giving it to me. "A beautiful gem for a beautiful lady."

I blushed and accepted it. And then later, I presented him with pearl I found before, effectively completing the pearl exchange.

I thought it was fate. I thought the fact that Xavier had given me his pearl meant that we were going to be together forever. Fate had declared us true lovers.

But fate has a way of laughing in my face.

I cringe and shudder every time I think back to that period. I never want to relive that. I can’t even make myself think about it again, much less talk about it to satisfy Declan's curiosity.

So when we reach the cabin and he sets me down on the mattress, I immediately change the subject. "How is Amelia by the way? Is she enjoying the fashion shows?"

"Not so much, but she is relishing the pure chaos of it all," he says as he sits next to me. "Her mother is very type A and things have a way of not going as planned when it comes to high-pressure situations like fashion shows."

"Oh, tell me about it. I've heard those things can be stressful."

"‘Stressful’ is too mild a word for it. Have you ever been to a fashion show?"

I shake my head. "No, but I've been to something like one. I learned bartending in California, and we once got this gig that was for an event with a bunch of models. Like a fashion gala or something. You should have seen these women. I never thought people like that existed in real life. So tall and graceful and slender. Like princesses from a book or something."

"They work very hard to maintain their figures," he informs me with casual indifference and some amusement. "Some of them haven’t touched a carb in years."

I nod. "Makes sense. Most of the entrees went untouched the whole night. But hey, I guess it was worth it for those bodies. I can see why men go crazy over them."

"Not every man prefers the model physique," he says and his eyes run down my body, radiating so much heat I blush. "Some of us like a more full-figured woman."

Pleasure slides through me.

I’ve never been insecure about my body per se, but I've always been aware that it's not everyone's cup of tea. But the way Declan looks at me makes me feel like I'm the most desirable woman in the world.

"Anyway," I say, coughing, before desire chokes out the room again. "That’s the extent of my experience with fashion shows. How about you?"

"I’ve been to a few of them. Mostly to support my ex-wife. I'm not much of a fashion guy but I appreciate the art behind it." He raises an eyebrow. "Speaking of art, where did you learn to draw like that?"

"Ah." It takes me a second to recall the image he saw of himself with horns. Yet another embarrassing memory for the bank. "I’m not sure. My Grandpa says my mom was an artist and she taught me the basics, but to be honest, I don’t remember much of it." I’m not sure if I've blocked it out because the memory is shrouded in too much pain after her death. "But it’s one thing I’ve always been able to do. And I was in the art club in high school too, and eventually went to college on a partial art scholarship."

"That’s amazing," he says.

"What's not amazing is that I didn't finish college," I say. "I dropped out in the middle. It was kinda embarrassing. Grandpa went around bragging about me like I was some kind of DaVinci, but I couldn't cut it when it mattered."

"You don’t have to finish to be good. Lots of successful people never even attend college."

"Yes, but I wasted time and money."

Declan shrugs. "Maybe, but at least the time was wasted getting an education in something you love, rather than, I don't know, partying it up and going on a drug-fuelled binge. There are worse things you could have done. I'm sure your grandpa is still proud of you regardless."

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