Page 62 of False God

I’m frozen, afraid breathing might be enough for him to change his mind about confiding in me. And at some point—I’m not sure exactly when—I became someone whoreallywanted to know more about Charles Marlborough.

“It’s not a job you can turn down,” he continues. “It becomes who you are. Your whole identity. All my other plans … they had to change.”

“What were your other plans?” I ask.

“I was halfway through medical school when my dad died.”

“You were?”

He smiles at the naked surprise in my voice.

I relax some at the sight, relieved to see the seriousness erased.

“That was my dad’s reaction too. I played rugby for a while. When I was seventeen, I had to get knee surgery. I couldn’t play anymore after that, and … and there was a doctor who got me through the disappointment of finding that out. Guess I got the idea I could do the same for someone else. Make their terrible day a tiny bit better.”

I stare at him, at a total loss for what to say. This guy who learned how to braid hair to help his little sister and was on the path to becoming a doctor because of an injury he’d suffered as a teenager … none of it fits with the cocky, calculated aristocrat.

“Wasn’t meant to be, I guess.” Charlie exhales, settling into his chair a little more.

“I wanted to be a veterinarian when I was little,” I tell him. “Made up this fictional vet clinic and everything. I kept a notebook, tracking all my patients. When my dad got home from work, he’d sit with me on the living room rug and ask for updates on every animal. My family still teases me about it sometimes. Whenever anyone we know mentions needing a vet, they suggest my fake clinic. It’sextremelyembarrassing to explain.”

He’s smiling as he asks, “Why didn’t you become a veterinarian?”

“I, uh …” I scramble for an answer that doesn’t include dyslexia. Not only because I haven’t decided if I want to share that with him, but also because I care—a little—about Charlie’s opinion of me, and I’d rather not admit that I decided a career that required another four years of graduate school felt like too much to tackle. “My parents adopted a golden retriever before I was born. They always called Teddy their first child. He had to be euthanized when I was thirteen. That’s the only time I’ve seen both of my parents cry. And after that day, working with animals didn’t sound as fun. It was the right—humane—thing to do. But it still sucked.”

Charlie nods.

“I also, uh … my family, they’re overachievers. My mom and dad—yeah, they both inherited a lot of money, but they work harder than anyone else I know. I was so proud of being Crew and Scarlett Kensington’s daughter. Whenever I told someone who my parents were, they looked so impressed. Awed almost. At some point, I guess it occurred to me that I’d have to try to live up to that legacy. I couldn’t think of anything that would. Still haven’t, honestly.”

“You said landscape architecture is what you wanted to do.”

I’m taken aback by the realization he remembers what I do for work. “Yeah, it is. I enjoy it. But I know most people think it’s silly, and I care about their opinions more than I should.”

“I don’t think it’s silly.”

“Would you tell me if you did?” I challenge.

He barely hesitates before answering, “Yes. I only care about two people’s opinions.”

“Blythe’s?” I guess.

Charlie nods. “And my grandmother’s.”

“Are you ready to order mains?” Ivy reappears, her gaze lingering on Charlie longer than me.

I relax back into my seat. I didn’t realize I’d leaned closer to Charlie until right now. He tracks the movement, sharp eyes missing nothing.

“I’m ready, Ivy,” I say, glancing at her and then back at Charlie. “Are you?”

He nods. “Ivy, have you ever been to the Sunken Garden near Notting Hill? With the fountain and the?—”

“Walking paths?” Ivy nods enthusiastically. “Was there with my mum and my sister-in-law a couple of weekends ago. Beautiful with everything in bloom.”

“What would you say if you met the person who designed that garden?”

My stomach swoops as I follow where he’s going with this.

When I’ve confided fears about my inadequacy to friends before, it was met with “Your opinion is the only one that matters,” from Bridget or a joking “Tripp doesn’t evenhavea job,” from Hugo.

---