15
MERCEDES
The next few days pass in a weird blur of dissociation. Solana and Georgie stay true to their word, sleeping over at my place while the guards outside keep watch. There are four of them now, just as Santi promised. And when I’m not at home, I spend my days at Solana’s shop hanging out with her and Madame Dubois while Georgie often joins us for lunch.
Ivy has been texting me, but Santiago won’t let her come to the shop with the current threat looming over my head. He’s been extra careful with her since he almost lost her, and I don’t blame him. In a way, it’s actually kind of sweet, and Ivy doesn’t seem to mind. So we make plans to meet at the manor for lunch next week.
In the meantime, I’m fielding texts from both Judge and Clifton, who has oddly only grown more persistent. My approach to both is the same, although ignoring them doesn’t seem to be working. And while Judge’s texts make me homesick for a place I’m not even certain exists, Clifton is getting on my nerves.
“All I’m saying is he’s not buying what I’m selling.” Solana drags me back to the present conversation as she straightens the inventory on the shelves.
“You don’t have to text him back,” I answer absently, though I am curious to know what Judge has been asking her now that he’s texting her too.
“He’s worried about you.” She stops, tosses me a glance over her shoulder, and shrugs.
“He’s so worried he tried to throw money at the problem to fix it.” I glare down at the sprigs of lavender I’ve been trying to arrange neatly in their buckets.
“I don’t think that’s how he meant it.”
My eyes snap up to her back, and Solana seems to sense my irritation as she turns and offers me an innocent smile.
“What happened to being team Mercedes?”
“I still am.” She presses a hand to her heart. “One thousand percent. But I can still be team Mercedes and feel a little bad for the guy, can’t I?”
“What would you have me do, Solana?” I grumble. “Let him toy with me for the rest of eternity, coming and going as he pleases? Using me whenever he sees fit?”
“No,” she answers carefully. “And I don’t think that’s what he’s doing. At least not intentionally. He’s like a caveman. He’s trying to figure this situation out with the only tools in his arsenal, which seems to be a lot of grunting and swinging his club around. In other words, I don’t think he knows how to navigate his emotions.”
“This sounds more and more like team Judge by the second.” I wipe my hands and start to return the buckets to the display case.
“All I’m saying is anyone can see he’s crazy about you, babe. But clearly, he’s terrified by the idea at the same time. Something inside him is holding him back, and it has nothing to do with you.”
I swallow, turning to gather another bucket so she can’t see the pain in my eyes. “I can’t change that. Believe me, I’ve tried. If he wanted to let me in, he would. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m having not one but two babies soon. My focus has to be on them, not someone who can’t decide if he wants to be in our lives.”
Solana wisely chooses not to answer, and I’m glad for it. If she knew how many doubts I already had every second of every day about what I’m doing, she would probably pounce on the chance to bring us back together.
We continue our work in silence, her stocking the shelves while I adjust the displays. It’s ten minutes to closing when the bells on the door ring, and a familiar voice infiltrates my thoughts.
“Mercedes?”
I turn to see Clifton standing there, and I stare at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes move over my round belly before darting back to my face, a cool smile curving his lips. “I hope you don’t mind. I haven’t been able to get in touch with you, so I asked your guards. They told me you’ve been spending your days here.”
“This is… unexpected,” I say. In other words, it’s fucking weird.
Clifton seems to be oblivious to my discomfort, or if he notices, he doesn’t care. “Look, I heard about your… situation.” He nods to my belly. “Whispers are going around. One of the guards let it slip. But not too many people know yet. I think we can still salvage this.”
“Um… what?” I blink, and then blink again, clearly confused.
“I put the word out that I was courting you,” Clifton explains as if this is totally rational. “Back before the dinner at Judge’s house. We can still save your reputation. I have a priest from IVI who’s willing to marry us for a fee, and he’ll add whatever date we want to the official paperwork. We can just tell everyone we wanted to enjoy our honeymoon period before we made it public.”
I stare at him in stunned silence. What he’s offering might have seemed chivalrous at one point in my life, but I’m not stupid. Clifton isn’t here out of the kindness of his heart. He wouldn’t chain himself to me and go through all the effort to save my reputation because of his undying love. We barely know each other, but what I do know is clear.
“And you’ll get what out of this exactly?” I arch a brow at him.
He shifts, acting affronted for about two seconds, then shrugs. “Half your trust.”
“I see.”