Page 41 of Gilded Saint

She huffs and stomps off to the stairs, her pale hands balled into tight little fists at her sides. Her boots thump against the concrete.

“You should really take your shoes off inside,” I call after her. Am I taunting her? Yes, I am. There needs to be some benefit to this fucked up role-playing.

She doesn’t slow down but raises an arm and lifts her middle finger. I bark out a laugh. This reminds me of fighting with Sloane.

“I’ll have dinner for us. Be home by six,” I call to her retreating back.

“Yes, dear.”

She never looks back as she descends the stairs, and I just grin. Yeah, it’s stupid, and I’m out of my mind taunting a Gen Zer that I will never, ever touch, no matter how tempting she is, but it’s fun. She’s fun.

Chapter15

Willow

“Honey, I’m home.”

My voice echoes through the stairwell, and I hope it drips with sarcasm.

I spent a few hours splattering paint against blank canvases, blaring music as loud as I dared, but after a while the indie songs in my playlist calmed me enough that I lowered the volume and called Scarlet.

She listened to me rant and interrupted me with an exasperated, “What does this all mean? You aren’t in a relationship. He’s been away for weeks. Why is he jealous?”

Scarlet asks good questions.

“Has he hit you?”

This is Scarlet’s worst fear, and in our world, it’s reasonable. Not to mention, her personal experience contributes to her worry.

“No,” I assured her.

“Did he ever tell you who he was with these past two weeks?”

“I never asked.”

Was I supposed to? Our conversation skirted it, but did it matter?

“Are you falling for him?”

“What?” I’d sputtered. “How? I’ve seen him collectively for less than twenty-four hours.”

“You’re idyllic. You grew up dreaming of love.”

“I gave up on that ages ago.”

“Did you? Didn’t you believe you would be allowed to marry for love?”

She didn’t spend time with me when I was in Florence. She didn’t get to know the independent Willow. The one who dared to have a serious boyfriend by opening her heart to someone she could never have. I didn’t share that part of myself with her because it would worry her, and just like now, she would’ve doubted me and worried I’d make the wrong decision. But I didn’t. I ended things before it got dangerous.

“Scarlet, you don’t need to worry.” That’s what I’d told her.

“If you’re telling me the truth, he’s respectful and decent.” Finally, she heard me. “And if you are sharing the truth, it’s not what you’re used to. He’s handsome. You’re going to fall for him.”

“You say it like that’s a bad thing. If I’m in this arrangement already, why exactly would that be bad? Isn’t it better to like the person I’m supposed to spend time with?”

I’d argued with Scarlet in my mind, disagreeing with her because he’s not just handsome, he’s gorgeous. I want to draw him. Maybe even paint him.

“You’ll fall, but he’s not going to,” she’d said. “He’s already told you this is temporary. He’s doing this as a favor, biding his time. You can’t lose sight of reality. Trust me on this. Because if you do, reality might break you.”

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