“You’re gorgeous, Violet.” My voice is harsh, but I’m not apologizing for my tone. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that bullshit again.” Even with my chastising, she only offers a smile.
“Listen.” Violet locks her stare on mine. “At the time, I felt like that. As a teenager, I grew up reading magazines, pages filled with glossy, flawless people who were perfect, like my sister.”
“But nobody is perfect.”
She nods at my observation. “I realized it when I turned seventeen.” Violet goes silent for a while, her gaze casting over the wall as if she’s in a faraway place and time. I allow her the moment before she looks at me again. “When I had my senior prom, my sister told me she’d organized a date for me. A boy from school, Benjamin, collected me, drove me all the way to the school.”
“I bet you looked gorgeous.”
She grins. “I loved the dress. It was long, black, and made my curves look like they’d been carved away.” Violet rolls over, her arm resting across my chest, and her chin resting on her hand as she looks up at me. “It was a magical moment walking into the school gym with a handsome boy on my arm. But then I saw it, that Carrie moment when my sister and her friends dumped a bucket of paint all over me. She'd been living at home while attending college, so that night, they all made their way to the prom.”
“What?” My voice is incredulous, filled with shock.
Violet’s eyes turn glassy with unshed tears, and I want to hold her, I want to make the memory go away, but I know I can’t. I realize that she has to walk through this before she can release it.
“I cried for weeks after. Forced to go to school to take my exams, I hid my face under a hoodie, but as it was summer, it got too hot to wear one, and I had to face my bullies head on. After I graduated, I told my parents I was leaving home. I had to get out of the town where everyone called me the Purple Porpoise.”
“Jesus,” I curse, running my free hand through my hair. The thought of someone doing that to their own sister doesn’t sit well with me. I can’t believe that she survived that.
“I’m stronger. I’ve been through therapy. But today I got a call from my sister, inviting me to her wedding.”
“Are you going?”
Violet looks away, her eyes glazing over with heartfelt emotion. “I don’t know. The other problem is, she’s pregnant.”
“Okay.” I don’t know why that would be a problem. Surely, her sister's grown up and matured. At least, I would fucking hope she would have.
“Not long after moving to New York, I was in college when I had my first boyfriend,” Violet relates, but she doesn’t meet my enquiring gaze. She’s focused on the wall, and as much as I’d like her to look at me, I respect the space she needs. “I had a miscarriage,” she admits in a low tone, so soft I almost miss it.
“Oh god, Violet,” I murmur, pulling her closer, and she allows me to. “I’m so fucking sorry, love.”
“Knowing she’s getting everything I wanted…” Her shoulders shake in my hold, and I tighten my arms around her and allow her to cry. The wetness on my chest makes me feel stronger than any man on this fucking planet, because she’s trusting me with this, and I can’t be prouder.
“I don’t know what to say, but I’m here for you. If you decide you’re going to the wedding, I’ll be your plus one, love,” I offer. “I may not be your boyfriend yet, but I feel like I am, and I’ll support you through this.”
“Thank you, Colton. I can’t ask you—”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” I insist, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The fragrance of her shampoo fills my nostrils, and I close my eyes as I commit the scent to memory.
“Then I guess you’ll need a suit,” Violet whispers along my chest as the tears still trickling from her eyes.
“We’ll go shopping tomorrow.” I’m not a fan of wearing a suit, but for this girl, I’ll spin the world on its axis to make her smile. And that thought scares the shit out of me.
22
Violet
“This is going to be our weekend, and we’re going to spend every second of every day together,” Colton announces. It’s been a week of him filming the show, and he’s managed to get some time off. How? I have no clue, but they’ve given him the long weekend for Thanksgiving. I’m excited because I’ve never been anywhere but the center of the Big Apple.
Once we’re in the car, Colton at the steering wheel, me beside him, we’re off. Thankfully, we’ve managed to pull out of the parking lot without anyone realizing Colton’s driving. Paparazzi have been following him around more often since the show debuted, and each time we have to sneak around, I worry that we’re going to get caught.
So far, so good.
“I’m excited,” I declare as he fights the city traffic. It probably wasn’t the best idea to leave at lunchtime on Friday when everyone will be traveling at the same time.
“Have you never been out of the city since you moved here?”
Shaking my head, I smile. “No, it’s my fault. I could’ve rented a car and driven out of there, but I never wanted to do it alone.” After my admission, I settle in and flick on the radio. Turning up the pop song, I sing along, making Colton laugh. It’s been easy to fall into a relationship with him when we’re alone, but in public, having to deal with the spotlight, being hidden in the shadows, has taken its toll on me.
I haven’t told him how I feel, but the fear of him wanting that life more than this between us has stilled my heart somewhat. I’m trying desperately not to feel, but when he does little things like right now, with his hand resting on my thigh, I want nothing more than to fall.
I focus on traffic, thinking about my sister’s upcoming wedding, and what’s going to happen when I see her again. After the nightmare I had growing up with her as a sibling, I’m still afraid of her as an adult, which is stupid. But the anxiety is visceral, and it eats away at me.
“Hey,” Colton says, jerking my attention back to him, back to the present. “What’s going on in the pretty head of yours?”
“Just thinking about my sister’s wedding.”
He nods in understanding. Colton is the first guy I ever told about what happened to me, and he’s the first man I trust with that information. I can’t explain why, but he makes me feel safe.
Even though I’m afraid of the public wanting a bachelor, not someone who’s dating a girl that’s most definitely not made for the public eye.
A couple hours later, we’re in the middle of the countryside. It’s colder out here, and I shiver when I push open the car door, and a blast of wind hits me right in the face. Shit, I didn’t realize just how freezing it would be.
The cabin calls to me, and after we’ve grabbed our suitcases, we make our way inside. Thankfully, they’ve turned on the heating. The Airbnb we contacted confirmed they’d ensure everything is ready, and it most definitely is.
A bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket along with two crystal flutes. On the countertop are a large bowl of fruit beside chocolates and a small note telling us to enjoy our stay.