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All my life, fire and passion
have been things I’ve been told to keep nicely tended to in the right fireplace, not let it out all over the rug. Who knows what else could get burned?
winning, not stealing—her boyfriend.
But where are MY words?
Am I all right? No. But I will be.
Fake it till you make it, right? I’m not sure what I’m making though.
I wonder if Rafe can be summoned magically by the use of certain words. I should start keeping a list.
“Even lovelier to see you,” Rafe says, taking my hand. Without breaking eye contact, he presses his lips to my knuckles.
Rafe is like one of those itchy tags on the inside hem of a shirt, itchy and impossible to ignore. The best solution, obviously, is to cut it out. I’m not sure what kind of sharp blade will best rid me of Rafe.
To me, men’s fashion is rather boring, but even so, Rafe wears the heel out of a suit. Not that I would ever tell him that. His ego would probably achieve liftoff and blast into space.
“Seraf, I would never take you for granted. It would be simply impossible.”
“You are gorgeous. Brilliant. A truly good woman. And if given the opportunity, I could make you completely forget Callum in a matter of minutes. But I want more than mere minutes. I want hours and days.”
“A lifetime,” he whispers. “Maybe a lifetime would be enough.”
“I don’t want a chase. No games,” I tell Rafe’s shoulder, blinking back my tears. “I want to be adored. Cherished. I want someone I can trust. I want a chance at love, even if it has to grow from friendship or from duty first. I’ve always wanted Callum. But it’s time to admit that he doesn’t want me back.” “If you were mine”—Rafe’s arms tighten around me—“I would treasure you. I would adore you. I would cherish you the way you deserve.”
When have I ever really let myself FEEL like this? It’s incredibly freeing, even if it hurts.
Something about hearing my full name on his lips makes me obey. Or maybe it’s the please. Possibly just the fact that I actually do need help.
“I care more than you know,” he says, those chocolatey eyes warm and soft. “Hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”
“I’ll be anyone you want me to be, Angel.”
Because being here, in such close radius to Serafina, all of that seems like such a cheap imitation, so incomparable with what she has to offer. I’d rather take my chance and lose than settle for something less.
Not because the dummy deserves it, but because it’s what’s best for Seraf. Isn’t that love? Wanting what’s best for the other person, even if it breaks your heart?
💙
So, despite what I really want, I’ll don my Team Callum shirt and help the woman I love get the man she deserves. I’ll be the good guy, the hero, while casting myself as the villain.
I think, as Brit beams at me. It feels more like winning, a selfish kind of satisfaction, than love.
Despite myself, I tremble a little. The night is darkest just before the dawn.
I am holding—not just holding but using—a power drill, and it’s the most powerful and most accomplished I’ve ever felt in my whole life.
“Princesses can use power tools,”
