Page 161 of False God

I usually eat breakfast alone—looking out at the gardens—before eventually heading up to my study to start on the day’s pile of paperwork.

“Your mom founded rouge, right?” Blythe asks eagerly as Lili heads for the chair opposite her.

I stand to pull it out for her. Lili curtsies when she reaches it, and I roll my eyes. Blythe’s eyes bounce between us, as if she’s making more assumptions.

“Yeah, she did,” Lili answers, reaching for one of the scones set on the table.

Martha, our cook and Conrad’s wife, bakes them fresh most mornings.

“That issocool.” Blythe is basically vibrating in her chair. “Do you get to wear any of the clothes you want? Do you get to see all the designs in advance?”

“I can make requests,” Lili says. “There are usually extra samples. And Mom had sketches all over the house when I was living at home. So, yeah, I see them. Unless it’s for something special. My best friend, Chloe, got married in July, and my mom designed the bridesmaid dresses. She and Chloe were the only ones who saw it ahead of time. That one I triedreallyhard to sneak a look at.”

“Does she design anything you want her to? Like, whenyouget married, are you going to have her design your wedding dress?”

I cut a sharp glance at Blythe, but she’s not looking at me. She’s not thinking aboutmemarrying Lili, and it causes this sharp pinch in my chest as I picture Lili walking down the aisle in a white gown toward some faceless man.

“Oh. Uh …” Lili’s cheeks flush. “I always thought I’d wear my mom’s dress actually. Not that I’m, uh, getting married anytime soon. Plenty of time to decide.”

“Vintage can be really chic,” Blythe says. She’s trying to act nonchalant, but there’s a noticeable lack of bubbliness all of a sudden.

I don’t know what happened to our mom’s wedding dress, and I’m certain Blythe wouldn’t want to wear it even if it were located. The rest of her life will be filled with these little realizations—reminders of what a mother-daughter relationship should look like—and I wish I had said some things to Georgialast time I saw her rather than walking away with my mouth shut.

“Are you studying fashion in college?” Lili asks, and it seems like she’s steering the conversation away from moms on purpose. Like she’s realized what dimmed Blythe’s enthusiasm.

Another pinch.

“Yeah. I just have one year left. Then, I’m hoping to work as a buyer. Or maybe intern at a fashion house.”

“I know rouge has an internship program. If you’re interested, I can have someone there send you more information about it. My friend Collins worked there for a year after we graduated. I’m sure she’d love to talk to you about it.”

“Really?” Blythe looks thrilled. “That would beamazing. I’ve never been to New York. Working there would be a dream.”

Lili smiles. Glances at me. “Are you sure you two are related?”

“Funny,” I tell her, reaching for another scone.

“We look exactly alike,” Blythe says, taking Lili’s comment literally. “Everyone says so.”

Lili laughs. “Yeah, you do. I just meant … because Charlie hates New York.”

“I don’thateNew York,” I argue.

“Dislike then. It’s fine. You’re a country boy at heart.”

Blythe snorts. “Charlie likes London. He’d go out all the time there. He’s just staying here because he thinks it’s what Papa would have wanted.”

I exhale as I heap clotted cream on my scone, avoiding looking at Lili. “It’s more complicated than that, Blythe.”

“I know.”

She’s not placating me—for once. Ever since she discovered the details about what Papa left us with, she’s been more subdued. Stopped teasing me about hardly ever leaving this place. She hasn’t come home with armfuls of shopping bags.

I’m conflicted on how to feel about it. I’m grateful that she’s becoming more responsible. But it also breaks my heart a little bit—because I wasn’t able to protect her from it. To fix things before they affected her.

Blythe pelts Lili with more questions about New York while I sip on coffee and finish my scone, letting Blythe monopolize Lili’s attention.

This is the smallest this huge room has ever felt.

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