Satin Princess(14)

“That’s bullshit.”

“One hundred percent. So you see why I’d prefer to avoid them. We’ll have more fun out here alone anyway,” she says with a false smile. “Who needs them?”

“Right.” I give her a sad smile.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” she snaps suddenly with more venom than usual.

“I’m not,” I insist, my smile fading away at once. “I was actually just thinking about my own parents.”

“Oh.” She softens. “Same boat?”

“Not nearly as bad, by the sound of it,” I clarify. “But my mother did advise me to forgive Dane and take him back.”

“Seriously? Is she aware that he was shagging your maid of honor on the day he was supposed to be marrying you?”

“I made her aware of it. She still seemed to think that I should bank on second chances.”

Freya snorts derisively. “I don’t believe in second chances. They were invented by the men who knew they were going to fuck up the first time around.”

I laugh and wince at the same time. “There have to be some exceptions, right?”

She shrugs. “None that I’ve ever come across.”

I can’t really fault her cynicism. She’s been through enough to warrant it. But I can see now that her easygoing nature is a front. A makeshift fa?ade to hide how broken she is underneath.

“You know, it’s gonna turn around for you,” I say confidently.

She brings her troubled eyes to mine. “How do you know?”

“Instinct,” I tell her. “You’re a good person, Freya. And you’re going to get what you deserve.”

She looks away, fighting her emotion. “You know the crazy thing about all this?” she murmurs a moment later. “I still love him.”

She is gazing down at her lap as though there’s an unsolvable code written across her legs.

I do feel sympathy for her. But maybe I’m a bad person, because I’m also caught up in my own problems, wondering if I’m hurtling down the same path as Freya.

Will I have to live the rest of my days running from the man I’m in love with? Will I have to spend the rest of my nights fighting my feelings for him, praying that one day they’ll just disappear?

“He wasn’t good to you,” I remind her—or maybe it’s myself that I’m reminding. “He hurt you, Freya. He abused you. Whenever you find yourself missing him, you need to remind yourself of that.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?”

I can hear irritation in her voice, but I don’t take it personally. “I’m trying,” I admit. “It’s hard. Mostly because… well, he never actually treated me badly. In fact, he was… kind.”

“Kind?” she repeats, sounding shocked.

“Yeah,” I say. “He isn’t what you’d expect him to be. I assumed he’d be this controlling, obnoxious brute. But the reality is, he can be tender.”

My description of him has my heartstrings tugging in a million different directions. And yet, I can’t stop. Simply talking about him is comforting.

Maybe a part of me wants to keep certain memories alive. I have a feeling I’ll be living off them for years to come.

Even if everything else good in my life rots away into oblivion.

“What’s that like?” Freya asks.

“What?” I ask, stuck between her question and my own reverie.

“What’s it like to have a man treat you with tenderness?”

I have the urge to reach out and hug her, but I don’t want her to think I’m pitying her. So I focus on the glass of orange juice in front of me that I still haven’t touched.

“It was this… perfect feeling,” I whisper. “A mixture of feeling comfortable and safe. Like… like I could trust where I was.” I frown, wondering if I sound completely batshit. “Does that make sense?”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.” But her expression falls as she says it.

“Surely you and your ex had some happy moments before it all went to hell?” I ask, not wanting her to retreat to that dark place in her heart. “Surely he treated you well at the beginning?”

“He was the cocky, confident type,” she explains. “He hooked me with his charm, not his sensitivity. That should have been my first warning.”

“But you fell in love with him?”

“Trust me, it’s hard not to fall in love with a man like him,” she says. “He’s just so…”

“Sure of himself?” I offer.

She snaps her fingers and nods. “That’s exactly it. I’ve always felt like I was flailing, you know? Like half the time, I don’t even know myself. He just made me feel like he was the one thing in life I could count on. He was the constant.”

“The constant. That sounds familiar.” We exchange a sad smile. “Guess we’re both in the same boat, huh?”

“Apparently,” she says with a tired sigh. “I dunno about you, but I’m sick of it.”

“What about the guy you’re seeing?” I ask.

“What guy?”

“The one you told me about, you clown,” I remind her with a laugh. “But I guess the fact that you need to be reminded doesn’t bode well for him.”