Gilded Lily

by Hart, Staci

  “So, what … I should hear her out? Give her a chance to make it right?” I shook my head at the question he never asked, the same one Luke had suggested. The one that just one hour ago, I was willing to take. “If it were just about the other night, that’d be one thing. But a reality show? That’s too big for me to look past.”

  “She didn’t exactly say she accepted the offer. Only that she got one.”

  I frowned. “No, she said—”

  “That she got an offer. That was all. I won’t tell you what to do, but I will say this—I’d hate to see you let love go for the sake of vanity, Kash.”

  Before I could argue, he turned and headed back to his post in the zinnias, leaving me with his words ringing in my ears.

  Mostly because he wasn’t wrong.

  I was running away, so convinced I wasn’t enough that I’d doomed us from the start, turned us into a self-fulfilling prophecy. I’d turned my nose up to the life she wanted, what she’d worked for, partly because I hated—desperately hated—seeing her be demeaned. But also because all the things her life represented were patently opposite of mine. And that comparison made me feel less than, even though this life made me happy. It was all I wanted, besides her.

  But the show. The thought of her participating in a reality show made my stomach turn, and my heart sank into its waiting arms. She might not have come out and said it, but she’d taken that offer. Everything she’d ever wanted had been handed to her on a silver platter, tarnished with lies and deceit. The devil had made her an offer, and I couldn’t imagine a world in which she’d refuse. I also couldn’t imagine a world in which she wouldn’t have told me right then and there that I was wrong if she’d turned it down.

  She had called me an asshole, which wasn’t off base.

  As I watered the beds, my thoughts swirled in brackish eddies like the water running through the dirt at my feet. Time. I needed time to sort through it all, to take stock and reconvene when I would be objective—a trait which I generally embraced. But not when it came to my heart. Not when it came to Lila.

  With her, all bets were off.

  29

  All Hail the Dumbassador

  KASH

  Dusk had fallen, painting the greenhouse in golden pinks and blues as the winter sun inched toward the horizon. It was still, quiet, the shop far away from my solitude. Dad had gone up hours ago, leaving me to withdraw in peace. As peaceful as my mind was at least, which was not very.

  My hands stayed busy. Stupidly, I’d thought going to my greenhouse on the roof would cheer me, but instead I found traces of her. I found them everywhere I looked—in the potted plants she’d admired, the lilies that were on the verge of opening up to show me if I’d successfully bred them. Even in the main greenhouse, even old Brutus. The black-eyed Susans where she’d fallen what felt like a lifetime ago. The table where I’d shown her how to plant ivy.

  She was everywhere, in the air, under my skin, living in my heart. But every thought was tainted with a fear, the see-saw once again in motion. And this time, I didn’t have a truth to hold on to beyond that I loved her, I feared her, and I desperately needed to talk to her.

  In my most relieving imaginings, she explained everything away with words I couldn’t deny. In the most terrifying, she told me all my fears were warranted. In all of them, I had a resolution. But only a few ended happily.

  I was lost in that thought when the door to the greenhouse opened hard enough to slap the wall. When I looked up, I didn’t know who I expected to find. But it wasn’t Ivy Parker with hell on her heels and an infant strapped to her chest.

  She flew toward me with her face screwed up in fury. “Hey, stupid.”

  One of my brows rose. I glanced behind me in an attempt at a joke.

  It didn’t land.

  “You dumb, stupid son of a bitch,” she said, trucking to me. “I cannot believe you. I’d expect this from Luke or Marcus, but I never thought you’d be so goddamn brainless.”

  At that, I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “See? That. Cretin. What do you think I’m talking about?”

  “Lila,” I chanced.

  “Lila,” she said in a dumb boy voice. “Yes, Lila, you dirtbag.” She screeched to a halt in front of me, red-faced. The bundle snuggled to her chest wiggled, and a tiny fist popped out of its confines before disappearing again. “You didn’t even listen. You didn’t even hear her out, you simpleminded moron.”

  “That’s a little redundant.”

  She pointed her skinny finger in my face. “Don’t you backtalk me, Kash Bennet. I’d expect Luke to jump to conclusions. I’d expect Marcus to chase paranoid delusions. But I thought you’d give her a chance.”

  “Ivy, could you stop insulting me for long enough to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry,” she yelled, poking me in the chest. “I’m just really, really mad at you!” Every really earned me another poke. “She quit her job, you witless jerk.”

  A jolt of adrenaline cooled my palms, dampening them. “What?”

  “She. Quit. Her. Job.” She poked her punctuation hard enough to leave a bruise. “But you were too much of a dumdum to listen, and she was too proud to tell you, especially if you thought it was to change your mind. She quit her job, told Caroline Archer to go to hell, and refused to do their stupid, idiotic show. And you know why?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Because she loves you, ding-dong. She loves your stupid, thick head— God knows why.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, dropping to a stool.

  “All that with Addison, the wedding—all she ever did was try to protect you from those monsters, and all you did was punish her. You don’t even deserve her,” she shot, amending, “Okay, that’s a lie, you do, but God, you are so dumb! Her whole life—her whole goddamn life—everything she’s worked for, she threw it away. And you know why? Because she chose you. She chose herself. You wanted proof she really wanted this life? Well, you were about to get it until you berated her. And then you let her walk away without even putting up a fight. You are just so—”

  “Dumb. Yeah, I got it.” I raked a hand through my hair. “She really quit?”

  She rolled her eyes so hard, I was pretty sure she saw the sunset. “No, she fake quit. Of course she quit, mouth-breather. She doesn’t ever want to step foot in that place, never mind work with all of them. Never mind put herself on television. She almost did, you know, but not for herself. For you. For Longbourne. She thought it could help you make the money you needed to buy out Bower. Not for personal gain.” Her steam finally ran out, and she sighed, breathing out the last of it. One hand moved to the lump I assumed was the baby’s butt. “Come on, Kash,” she said wearily. “You know her better than to believe that.”

  “Maybe I don’t.” Regret, heavy and thick, filled my ribs. “I was so sure she’d taken it.”

  “Just like you were sure she would sneak around with Brock? Or that she would ever tell Addison Lane the truth of her feelings?”

  When she put it like that, my regret turned to shame.

  “You’re smarter than that,” she said.

  “I dunno. I think your little speech convinced me I have the IQ of a worm,” I joked, not at all feeling funny.

  “Well, you are a worm right now, but usually you’re at least a beetle. Or a gopher.”

  “Graduated to mammal? I’ll take it.”

  She chuckled, but my half-smile fell.

  “I was wrong.”

  “You were so wrong. About everything, except punching Brock. Man, I wish I’d been there. Thank God for the internet—that video has been going around social media on a loop since you hit him.”

  I held up my hand, knuckles out, to show her the damage. “Worth it.”

  “I bet it was. And it meant a lot to her too. You were the only person who didn’t lie to her.”

  “And then I dumped her for lying to me.”

  She gave me a look that said, Yeah, dummy.

 
“What do I have to do?” I asked half to myself. “Will it even matter? Have I ruined everything?”

  “Of course not,” she said gently. “She loves you, Kash. All you have to do is tell her you love her too. Oh, and apologize for being a soft-headed ass monkey.”

  “Ass monkey?” I said on a laugh.

  “Dingus. Dickasaurus. Asshat. Dumbassador. I can go on.”

  “I think I’ve got it.”

  “Good.” The baby mewled, and Ivy bounced gently, her hand on the baby butt patting in time. “Now, figure out how to make it right. And if you ever hurt her again—and I mean ever—I will not just call you names. There are a lot of things in this greenhouse that can be used as a weapon.”

  “I dunno, Ivy—your name calling is no joke. And your mom voice is scary.”

  “I know, right? It’s exciting to wield this kind of power.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Too late.”

  For a moment, we were silent as I tugged that thread between Lila and me at last, figured out how to reel it in, pull her to me.

  I should have trusted her. And I vowed never to make that mistake again.

  I only hoped I had the chance to prove it to her.

  As a plan unfurled in my mind, a smile spread on my face.

  An answering smile spread on Ivy’s. “You have an idea.”

  “Maybe. Will you help?”

  And that smile split until I could see her molars. “Of course, dummy.”

  30

  First and Always

  LILA

  “That’s it. Get out of bed,” Ivy said just before my comforter was ripped away with a snap and a rush of cold air.

  “Hey!” I squinted at her, blindly patting for it so I could pull it back over my head. “Give that back!”

  “Nope.” She rolled it up in her arms and tossed it out the door. “Up.”

  I curled into a ball and groaned.

  “You smell like a dumpster, and all this sulky, sad panda business is freaking me out. So get up. Shower. We’re meeting Luke at your apartment in an hour to talk about construction.”

  I groaned again, but this time it came out closer to a whimper.

  “Don’t gimme that. You’ve had your allotted moping time, and in forty-eight hours, I’ll allow another wallowing session. I’ll even climb in bed with you for as long as you want.”

  I lifted my head so I could see her. “As long as I want?”

  “Days even. I’ll bring the takeout and John Hughes movies.”

  “And Dirty Dancing.”

  “Sure. Dirty Dancing, Sixteen Candles, Pride and Prejudice—whatever you want.”

  “Not the Colin Firth one,” I warned.

  She rolled her eyes long enough that one of her eyelids fluttered. “Fine, we’ll watch the wrong Pride and Prejudice, but only because you’re sad.”

  “Fine,” I huffed, hauling myself to sit.

  When I sighed, the triumphant look on her face faded. She took a seat next to me. “I’m sorry, Lila. For all of this.”

  That heaviness that had taken up residence in my chest sank lower. I curled around it protectively. “It’s my own fault. All of it.”

  “Hang on—I know you’re sad, but let’s not be delusional. Natasha Felix was not your fault. Brock was not your fault. Kash … well, that one is more complicated, but frankly, he’s being an asshole.”

  “I was the harbinger of every fear he possesses. I fulfilled every prophecy. Lived up to the worst version of myself. He thought he wasn’t good enough for me when it was the other way around. He thinks he’s unaccomplished, but not by my definition of the word. He thinks he’s not smart enough—”

  “Well, he is being a stupid dummy right now.”

  I chuckled, but the sound was sad. “I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it. I love him. I didn’t realize the life I wanted wasn’t the life I’d been working for, not until him. And now he’s all I want. That life is all I want. But if I can’t have him, at least I walked away from the rest of it. I can start over. Work toward a new life, the one grown-up me has figured out she wants instead of the one teenage me imagined she wanted.”

  “Have you figured out your next move?”

  “Open my own firm. I just have to come up with a good name and I can get started on the rest.”

  “Well, once the Femme’s show airs, you shouldn’t be lacking for clients.”

  I humphed. “I’m not sure if I want the clientele that will attract. But that’ll be the best part—I can cherry-pick who I want to work with. I have enough in savings to float me, and when I flip the apartment—”

  “You can’t flip the apartment,” she said with such authority, I frowned.

  “I can’t afford to keep it. I’ll have to rent something smaller, tighten the belt. Don’t look at me like that. Dreaming might be free, but getting there is most certainly not.” I paused. Sighed. “Trust me, the last thing I want is to give up that apartment. It’s the first piece of my new dream, and I won’t even get to keep it.”

  “Well, let’s just see. Who knows? Maybe things will turn around faster than you think.” She rose and moved for the door. “Now, come on, sad sack. Let’s get you out of the house before you wither up like a raisin, which is the most offensive member of the fruit family. Nobody wants to be a raisin.”

  “They’re so wrinkly.”

  “And gummy.” A shudder rolled through her.

  “Wouldn’t want to be gummy. I’d best get up.”

  “That’s the spirit,” she said cheerily, bouncing into the living room to plop down next to Dean.

  I gathered my things and shuffled to the bathroom, smiling at them on my way. The baby was tiny and fair in his dark arms, his face soft as he smiled down at her. Ivy peered over his massive bicep, resting her cheek on the curve. The two of them were colored in hopes and dreams, realized in their child, their love.

  I could only hope that someday, I’d find that too.

  Kash’s face flashed in my mind, a streak of pain on its wake. That dream I’d had of the apartment and the dog and the long, lazy days hadn’t died. It hadn’t even quieted. If anything, it had flared, a bright and shining beacon in my heart, the most tangible form of my dream. Because it wasn’t about my job or where I lived or what I did on Sundays.

  It was him.

  The shower was hot enough to burn, the sting siphoning my other hurts, drawing them away to distraction. I prided myself in not crying as I dried myself off and pulled on my clothes. I’d done enough of that over the last few days. On average, I cried once per quarter, usually instigated by something stupid like my lipliner breaking, endured in solitude where no one could see.

  Over the last few days, I’d cried enough to fill my quota for three years—and a few times in front of Ivy, to boot.

  I didn’t know what Kash had done to me, but I didn’t think I could ever reverse it. He had changed me elementally. There was no going back.

  Only forward, I supposed.

  When I’d left Archer yesterday, it was with a year’s severance and a glowing recommendation from Caroline in exchange for not suing Archer for damages, of which there were many. I walked out feeling like I’d won. And then I walked into Longbourne and lost it all again.

  He hadn’t believed me. He didn’t trust me, that mistrust so deep, he assumed I would get in bed with the devil just to save my own skin.

  That was perhaps the worst part of all. He’d thought so little of me that he believed me capable of so much selfishness.

  Part of me wanted to wallow still, starting with the refusal to blow dry my hair. I could braid it, tie it back, something fast and easy and utterly unlike me. But I had a forty-eight-hour wallowing ban to comply to. So I rallied. I blew out my hair. Used a silly, expensive, probably useless oil on my face, leaving it dewy and fresh. Dashed on mascara, dusted a touch of color on my eyebrows. With a little lip gloss, I was presentable. And better—I didn’t feel like a bridge troll anymore.r />
  There was something to be said for a few minutes of self-care and a little mascara.

  When I exited the bathroom, it was with more cheer than I’d had since before that cursed wedding, and for that, I was grateful. It gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be miserable forever.

  Ivy was ready and waiting for me, and together, we ventured out. The closer we got to the apartment, the more excited I got, thinking about renovations. I had thoughts and plans and a notebook in my bag, teeming with lists that I hoped wouldn’t drive Luke crazy. Ivy distracted me by brainstorming names for my new event company, but the best we came up with was Parker Planners, which was not only boring, but sounded like I made organizational tools. Granted, helping people organize their lives wouldn’t be a terrible second career, but I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on events. Not yet.

  When we reached the foot of the brownstone, my smile was broad and genuine. My mind skipped with possibilities as we climbed the stairs, and I slipped my key into the door of my home that would never be mine and turned the knob.

  I stepped inside thinking I’d find what I’d found before—an echoing, empty, slightly dirty, completely perfect space. But it was more perfect than I could have imagined.

  Because it wasn’t empty at all.

  Standing in the bay window was Kash Bennet.

  He was resplendent, so tall and broad-shouldered, he seemed to take up all the space in the room, all the space in my heart. His jaw was darkened by stubble, framing wide, smiling lips. But it was his eyes that nearly brought me to my knees, deep and blue and regretful. Loving and longing and hopeful.