West seemed off. Unhinged. He was always so perfectly put together, his bow tie even, his suits tailored, his smirk perpetual.
Now the bow tie hung off his neck, his suit was wrinkled, the jacket lay somewhere I couldn’t see. He only wore a dress shirt, rolled up on one sleeve.
I stared at the phone in West’s hand.
Songbird.
So close to our happily ever after.
I let out a shaky breath, trying to rid myself of nerves, and closed the distance between us. The cloudy blue fabric of my Grecian empire dress trailed as air across the hardwood.
“I wanted to tell you something last night, but you weren’t here. I…” I worked my bottom lip harder between my teeth. “I choose you. I’m finally choosing you, West.”
He eyed me suspiciously, then gripped my waist viciously, dragging me flush against his body. The smell of alcohol came off him in burning waves.
“My songbird, do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” His head fell between my neck and shoulder. “You’ll never choose me.”
He lolled from side to side, and I gripped the doorframe to keep us both steady.
“I do,” I said. “I choose you. It’s always been you.”
He lifted his head, searching my eyes. For a moment, his softened and I saw the walls crack.
Then he shoved me off him with such force, if my girl hadn’t caught me, I think I would have fallen.
She held my elbows, helping me to stand up. I felt her presence linger at my back, oddly comforting, as West closed the distance between us.
He eyed me from down his nose, his sharp jaw a shadow.
“I could lock you in this tower for decades and you still wouldn’t choose me.”
He was right about that. It took him months, but at least he finally fucking figured that out. And still, I don’t think he’d let me go.
I think West would rather me trapped and miserable, but his, than free. Wasn’t that the difference? Grayson Crowne would rather me safe and happy, even if it meant not with him, as long as I was free.
“Then what’s the point of all this, West? If you won’t even let me choose you?”
A vicious shadow fell across his face. “So then, you won’t give a shit if you tell me all this downstairs, in front of that boy you’ve spent months pining over?”
I schooled my features, fighting back the hard swallow. “Of course not.”
He laughed. “Because if you really wanted me, you would do this in front of your prince.”
I placed my palm on his chiseled cheek. “You are my prince.”
He placed his palm over mine, enveloping my entire hand. The pounding in my chest grew with his inscrutable glare. He slowly pulled my hand from his cheek, keeping our hands locked tightly together.
A cruel, cold smile twisted his soft rose lips. “We’ll see about that, Angel.”
He dropped me, leaving me to finish getting ready as he slammed the doors behind him. A dreadful knot tightened in my gut, and I stared at the double doors until my girl snapped me out of it.
“Miss?” She called to my back, and I turned to her.
She held up two variations of shoes, one silver and the other blue. Both looked fucking uncomfortable.
I chose silver.
In this fairy tale, we all started with the wrong people. And in order to correct that, I’d have to choose the wrong prince for a little while longer.