Page 19 of Replacement

I don’t have a clue about how Amber would have acted differently at a social function.

When I only stare, William goes on, “Amber? I’m serious. I want to know what’s going on. You might have agreed to go to social functions, but you’ve always made it clear you’d rather not be there. Why are you suddenly acting like the perfect partner today?” He sounds faintly annoyed, as if his inability to figure me out is a source of frustration to him.

My lips part slightly as I try to hide my utter astonishment. I’ve gotten a clear sense that the details of William’s relationship with Amber were ironed out through negotiation and a contract, but I still haven’t been able to figure out all the nuances.

Even given the practical nature of their relationship, surely he wasn’t happy with a fiancée who was so uncooperative. Surely the Delacourte name isn’t so important to him that he’ll put up with downright bad behavior.

The thought bothers me more than it should. Not that I have a problem with William prioritizing whatever he wants, but he seems better than that somehow—like he deserves more.

I clear my throat, stalling a moment longer as I come up with a response. “I… I told you before that I’m trying to do better.”

William peers at me so intently that I almost squirm.

“Don’t you…?” My cheeks warm with an emotion I can’t quite identify. “Don’t you like it?”

“I do like it.” His voice is strangely thick. His eyes never leave my face. “I just don’t believe it.”

I look away from him, out the window of the car, momentarily afraid that I’ll collapse into a pitiful heap and admit everything to him. He must be on the verge of figuring it out anyway.

But he doesn’t know everything. He can’t know. He knows something is different, but surely it would never occur to him that another person has somehow taken over his fiancée’s identity. Amber told me he never knew about me—that she has an identical twin sister. She and our dad cut me out of their lives completely after I left and pretended I never existed. So William would consider every other possibility before he would believe that I’ve actually taken Amber’s place.

He almost certainly thinks I’m up to something, that I’m trying to manipulate him.

And he isn’t wrong about that.

When my anxiety and confusion fade slightly, I’m flooded by an unexpected wave of sympathy. For William.

He’s not a bad guy overall. He comes off as cold, calculating, and guarded—and he is all those things to a certain extent. But even in the brief interactions I’ve had with him so far, I can tell that he’s also sensitive. And surprisingly vulnerable. For whatever reasons, he is committed to Amber, and she’s clearly taken advantage of that commitment.

And now I’m lying to William, using him, manipulating him.

My motivations might be different, but my actions aren’t any better than Amber’s.

But things have gone too far, and I’m not sure what other choices I have. I want to stay safe and make a gesture in support of my sister. This is the only means I have of doing both.

I jump when I feel a hand on my upper arm. I jerk my head back to see that William has reached over to touch me gently. “Amber?” His voice is softer than it was before. “If something is going on with you, if you’re in some sort of trouble, if something is wrong, you need to tell me what it is. How can I help if I don’t know what it is?”

I take a deep breath. Shake my head. “I’m fine. It’s just what I told you before. I feel bad about… about how I’ve acted. So I’m trying to do better.”

He doesn’t answer. And I don’t know if he believes me or not.

4

The next week,we go back to normal with William working all the time and me doing whatever I can think of to do as Amber.

It’s a safe week but not a particularly good one. It feels like I’m simply waiting around the whole time.

For what, I have no idea.

On the following Saturday morning, I wake up knowing it’s early and the weekend. My schedule as Amber allows me to sleep in on any day I want, but weekends feel different anyway.

I reposition myself, rolling over onto my side, and snuggle under the thick, soft duvet.

A soft sound—halfway between a grunt and a sigh—from the other side of the bed makes me pop my eyes open. William.

I’ve never woken up in the morning with him still in bed.

He’s definitely still here, sleeping on his back with one arm out from under the covers. His eyes are closed. His chest rises and falls with slow, even breathing. His jaw is dark with a day’s worth of stubble. The coarse hair on his arm is slightly ruffled.

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