Chapter 84: My Dark Prince: Chapter 83

“Am I the only one who thinks the dress podium looks like a cake?”

On cue, Dallas’ stomach growled loud enough to trigger seismic sensors. She wiggled around on the bridal shop’s upholstered couch, rubbing her belly.

Yes. You heard right. Bridal shop.

Naturally, I’d woken up this morning to an ambush. Agnes, Dallas, and Farrow had waited at my doorsteps to usher me to a dress fitting I never scheduled.

Agnes looped her arm around mine. “Oliver told us you were too stressed to book a wedding dress salon, so I did it for you.”

My first reaction was to charge upstairs and punch Ollie square in the face. Then, I remembered my vow as a devout pacifist.

My second reaction was to run for the hills. Sure, I’d caught a case of the feels for Oliver. But the engagement was still 100% fake. Pretty soon, I would return to Los Angeles for work. In fact, I’d spent the past week searching for new apartments (and gagging at the prices). This could never work out – just as I could never put myself last for someone else again.

The fake wedding merely served as an icebreaker. A way to tease one another while conjuring cute date ideas. A never-ending game of who-can-blink-first.

Of course, I wouldn’t blink first.

My competitive streak would not allow it. Bonus points that not snagging an invitation enraged my parents.

The only problem with the sham? Agnes’ genuine excitement.

Farrow sipped champagne. “Yes, you’re the only one who sees cake.”

“I love wedding cakes.” Dallas sighed and tossed her head back, staring at the ceiling with stars in her eyes. “The weddings themselves are basically just the bonus.”

“If you love cake so much, why don’t you be in charge of the cake at Ollie and Briar’s wedding?”

I wanted to strangle them both. They knew the wedding wouldn’t take place, but they still played pretend in front of poor, eager Agnes.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Dallas spun to me. “Briar, how does a ten-tier cake sound?”

“A heartburn waiting to happen,” I mumbled. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t happen.

“Good. It’s settled, then. A twelve-tier cake.” Dallas clasped her hands together. “Is anyone else hungry right now?”

Farrow finished off her champagne. “No, but I’m craving a pumpkin spice frappe.”

“Careful, you might be pregnant.”

“I haven’t gone off birth control. Yet.”

“Fun fact.” I tried to adjust the plunging V-neck on the dress I wore, rearranging it so it covered more of my boobs. “One frappe has more sugar than twenty donuts.”

Dallas shot off the couch, her jaw dropping. “You mean to tell me that, all this time, twenty donuts aren’t as bad as I thought? I feel like I just learned something monumental.”

Fae slapped her forehead. “That’s what you got out of that?”

Agnes returned with a plastic box full of push pins. “Briar, honey, the dress looks perfect on you.” She fixed the pure-silk train of the Mikado dress I’d tried on. “Oliver is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

I couldn’t help but spin, watching myself in the mirror. “Hopefully, he doesn’t get tired of me before the wedding.” It would do us both good to plant seeds of doubt in his parents’ minds.

“Are you kidding me?” Agnes set down the pin box, crossing her arms. “You were always his one and only. I saw how depressed he was after you two broke up. He never fully recovered. Not until you came back. I haven’t seen him this happy since …” She stopped, frowning to think about it. “Honestly, ever.”

This was torture.

I hated lying.

“You brought so much light back into his eyes,” she continued, hanging her gaze on my face like I’d painted the sky with the moon and the stars. “For the first time, I’m not worried about him and his future. All because of you.”

I spun to face her, clutching her shoulders. The tears brimming her eyes needled into my conscience. This elaborate prank would end up hurting her. So would telling her the truth. We never should’ve let it get this far in the first place.

Correction: Oliver shouldn’t have blasted the announcement on the New York Times.

I bit my lip, forcing myself to tell her the wedding to Oliver wouldn’t happen. “Agnes, I …”

Dallas shot up from the couch, inserting herself between us. “Agnes, I heard you collect precious coins. Please, tell me about them.”

Agnes jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Anything and everything.” Dallas pushed Agnes away from me, helping her onto the couch. She whipped her head around to mouth to me, “Don’t you dare break this woman’s heart.”

But what were my options? I could break her heart today or I could break it after she secured a special visa, hopped on three separate planes, landed in Nauru, and hitched a ride to the wedding venue with a generous local, only to discover that I’d abandoned her precious son at the altar. Horrible plus horrible only equaled horrible, no matter how you did the math.

Dallas parked Agnes on the sofa and bombarded her with questions about precious coins.

Farrow ambled my way, her cool eyes taking me in. “You hate the dress.”

I shrugged. “I just … it seems so redundant, seeing as there won’t be a wedding.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Considering I have to consent to the wedding, I do.” I hopped off the podium, strode to the small kitchenette, and poured myself a glass of water. “I love Oliver. I think he loves me, too. Getting amnesia has been surprisingly healing, considering the circumstances.”

Fae arched a brow. “But …”

“But we will never, ever be able to change the fact that I once gave myself up for a man, and I will never do it again. I have a life in LA. A career, friends, and dreams I still haven’t achieved. I can’t stay here. Not when I like myself better with my spine attached.”

“You know, I was the same.” A sad smile nestled onto her face. “I had the worst freaking start to my life. If you told me five years ago that I would let go of control and trust a man, I’d find you a hotel room to sober up in. But God, the reward is so worth it.”

“Zach has never let you down,” I pointed out.

“No, he hasn’t. But consider this – if you’re not the same person you were fifteen years ago, why would Oliver be? That question will haunt you when you return to Los Angeles and realize it doesn’t shine as bright as it once did. You’re only hurting yourself if you don’t have this conversation with him. Give Oliver a chance to do the right thing. Who knows? He might surprise you.”

He can’t.

But Farrow didn’t know about Sebastian. Oliver would never leave him behind, and I would never want him to. I loved Seb, too. So, Oliver and I avoided the topic altogether, both of us knowing the only possible outcome.

“Yes.” I pasted on the weakest smile known to man. “Maybe.”