Page 72 of Pity Present

“I thought you always had my back. I didn’t expect this from you.”

“Didn’t expect what, Ellen?”

“Betrayal.”

Oh brother, I thought I was calling my sister to have a good talk, but that’s not how things are going. “Ellen,” I say. “You knew Henry had children when you met him. Not only do you know his kids, but you love them. How in the world is it his fault that you decided you don’t want to be with him because he’s a great father?”

“I said I’d marry him,” she practically spits.

“No one wants to feel like the person they love is ambivalent toward them. And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how you sounded when you half-heartedly agreed to marry Henry.”

“You weren’t there. You don’t know how I sounded.”

“But I know you, Ellie,” I tell her firmly. “And from what you told me, Henry must be hurt beyond belief. If you want him back in your life, then it’s on you to make that happen.”

She huffs loudly in my ear before saying, “Oh, go make a cup of coffee.” She hangs up without saying goodbye.

Even though I feel horrible for my sister, I have to laugh at such a ridiculous comeback. She must know this is her fault. That doesn’t mean I don’t love her and support her choices, but I think she’s making a major mistake here.

I plug my phone into the charger before reaching over and turning off the light. Then I pull the covers up and force my sister’s plight out of my mind. Ellen will decide whatever she decides, but right now I want to relive every moment of my night.

Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep faster than I have in ages. I dream that I’m a princess locked in a tower watching as my handsome prince, Blake, rides across the countryside to save me.

He rides, and rides, and rides for what seems to be hours, but he never gets any closer. I call out to him, “Prince Blake, what’s keeping you?”

I don’t hear his answer because a storm moves in. It starts to thunder and rain. Blake keeps riding but the distance between us starts to increase. How is that even possible? Turning around, I run across the room and sit down at an ornate vanity. In true absurd dream form, I stare into the mirror and talk to it. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the happiest couple of all?”

I expect it to tell me that it’s me and Blake, but instead, it says, “Ronald and Olivia are the happy pair. It is a fairytale ending they will share.”

Ronald and Olivia? What are they doing hijacking my dream? “You’re wrong, mirror!” I pick up a hairbrush and throw it into the glass and watch as it shatters.

Undeterred, the mirror says, “Glass is easy to break, but the repair is impossible to make.”

I shout, “What does that even mean, you stupid mirror?”

The voice in my reflection changes into my sister’s. “Lies are lies that cannot mend. Truth untold will be the end.”

It’s been two years since Kyle left me, so I’m clearly not one to jump into a relationship. In all that time, I haven’t so much as flirted with another man. But kissing Blake feels like coming home to a place I never dreamed possible.

Rolling over in bed, I think about how Blake lived in Brentwood, and is now in Wrigleyville. Neither of these locations suggest he’s struggling for money. Then I recall how he confessed that he’s not writing a book. There must be something he’s keeping from me because both of his recent addresses suggest he’s making more money than someone who pours coffee for a living.

The rest of the night is spent in one fever dream after another. In one of them, Blake is a frog who, no matter how many times I kiss him, refuses to turn into a prince. In another, he’s Lord Farquaad from Shrek, and while I’m not a sizest, the fact that he’s nearly two feet shorter than me leaves a negative impact.

Even in my sleep I can’t help but wonder why I’m not having fabulous dreams of our future. And while there’s a definite fairytale aspect to my visions, they’re all dark and foreboding.

Is it possible that Blake isn’t the man I think he is? Is he still lying to me about something?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

BLAKE

I dream of Molly all night. I see us exploring Chicago together, traveling the world, and even getting married someday. I wake up feeling like a million bucks. At least until I remember that she doesn’t know what I’m really doing here.

Grabbing my laptop from the nightstand, I open it and start to write.

Starting to date someone new is full of risk, but it can also be full of excitement. A new love interest is invigorating. It’s the unknown becoming known, like slowly unwrapping a Christmas present. Once the paper is off, you’re left wondering if the box will hold a dozen of the best vintage baseball cards of all time, or if you’ll find yet another homemade sweater full of holes that your grandmother didn’t sew together?

Last night, Polly and I shared our first kiss. It was wonderful and amazing. It felt like the beginning of something special. Which, if I’m being honest, scares me. I did not come to thisevent believing that it was anything more than a sham—a way for Trina Rockwell to keep meddling in the lives of single people and making money while she was at it.

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