Page 130 of The Proposal Pact
“Somehow I don’t think I’ll be welcome at the country club.” — Shrek 2
“Oh nooo,” I cry out as soon as we get back into our apartment and I sit down to take off my shoes.
My completely destroyed shoes. “Damn it!”
“What? What’s wrong?” Clover asks, his eyes already scanning for an injury, but I only lift my foot up to show him the rip over the side of my Converse, announcing their death.
“My shoes. They’re ripped! Do you think I can get them fixed anywhere here?”
Callum bends down, taking my foot into his large hand and shakes his head. “I don’t think so, Sophie. This is right on the edge.” His thumb slides across the tear and a wave of sadness rolls over me.
I tip my head back against the wall, tears pricklingat my eyes.
“Hey,” he says softly, his hand cupping my cheek. “Don’t cry, little menace, it’s just shoes.”
I shake my head. “No, they weren’t just shoes. My mom got them for me. For my sixteenth birthday. I’ve had them ever since.” A tear slides down my cheek because this was one of the last things that connected us.
“Oh, baby.” Clover’s arms wrap around me. “I’m so sorry.” He hugs me tight, giving me the safe space to let out all the emotions clogging up my heart.
And I let go, forgetting that I should be furious with him for spilling our secret to my brother like that.
It wasn’t the plan, and I wanted to kill him on the spot, but I also couldn’t deny how much better it felt to tell at least someone about it. Today took me through a range of emotions and Vassar’s parting words still ring in my ears.
“Guard your loving heart, Soph,” he told me.
It’s too late, but I didn’t tell him that.
However, the emotions stuck.
So, now, I just stand here, clinging onto my fake husband I wasn’t supposed to love, crying over shoes.
“Come, I want to show you something,” Clover says, but I don’t get a chance to move before his arms are lifting me and carrying me to the couch. “It’s not done yet, but…” He trails off, looking sheepish as he walks over to the coat closet and digs in far and deep, pulling out a box I haven’t seen before.
“What’s that?” I ask, sniffling.
Clover silently hands the box to me, and I take it, curious. He sits next to me, watching me from the side.
Wiping a tear off my cheek with the back of my hand, I lift the top of the box and gasp.
“Wh-what…” My eyes lift up to Clover, then back to the box.
“It’s for you, but like I said, I’m not done yet. I just thought you might want to see these, seeing as your favorite pair ripped. Um”—he scratches the back of his neck—“I know they’re not as special as the other ones were, but I’m still planning to finish the embroidery over on this side.” He motions to the side, but I freeze.
“F-finish? As in you’re the one doing this?” I blink, not comprehending what he’s saying right now as I look at the brand-new white Converse with the most beautiful, colorful embroidery done over them. The colors are vibrant, fresh, and remind me of Greece. Of the colorful pops of flowers amongst the white and beige buildings. The shining sea on a hot summer day. I can even see our expressive language and temperament written all over them.
“Um, yeah.” Clover blushes. He blushes, and I lose all ability to speak. “I haven’t done it in a while, but it wasn’t hard to pick up again.”
Not special?
Not. Special?
“Oh my God! Shrek! You’re making these with your own hands for me?” I blink back the new wave of tears that are just at the rim and watch him let out a groan at the sight.
“Damn it! You’re gonna cry, aren’t you?”
I nod, not even attempting to pretend otherwise. “I knew it!”
Before I can break down completely, he swipes me into his arms once again and into his lap. “Okay, now go ahead.”
