I’ve never told another man about Squishy, and though I know it’s not that big a deal—certainly not as serious as pretending to be someone I’m not—my cheeks are still burning.
Shame is funny like that. Even when you know you have nothing to feel ashamed of, it can still sneak up on you, snatch you around the ribs, and shred all your cool.
“A stuffed animal,” Andrew finally says, staring me down as if he expects me to break and confess that I’m joking.
But I’m not. “Yes. I brought him with me. I haven’t slept a night without him since I was two years old.”
Frowning, Andrew nods. “What’s his name? It’s a he, you said?”
“Yes, he’s a he.” I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t seem to be poking fun. “His name is Squishy Cheese. He’s a camel.”
Andrew’s brows pinch even closer together. “And the camel is named after cheese because…?”
“Because he was yellow. And soft. And I was two.” I point my spoon at Andrew’s face as his shoulders begin to shake. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious. I don’t know if I can give him up! Even when I’m married.”
“I’m not laughing,” he says, even as his chuckle vibrates the air.
“You are.” I cross and re-cross my legs with a bob of my shoulders. “But that’s fine. You’re the one who’s going to be married to a woman who can’t sleep without her security stuffy. You’re a part of this problem, like it or not.”
Still laughing, he puts a hand on my knee, and even that innocent touch is enough to make the flush heating my cheeks move lower, creeping down my neck. “There is no problem. I’m sure I’ll love Squishy Cheese as much as you do.”
I press my lips together and shake my head. “No, you won’t. He smells funny.”
Andrew tips his head in acknowledgment. “Well, to be fair, so do you. And I like you just fine.”
Startled laughter bursts from my lips as I smack his shoulder. “I do not smell funny! Take that back, jerk. If anyone smells funny, it’s you. Especially after a meal, once you’ve gotten oatmeal and egg all over yourself.”
“All right, I take it back,” he says, laughing harder, the sound making my heart swell.
Andrew is always handsome, but when he laughs, you can hear how beautiful he is on the inside. It’s a special sound, and he’s a special man…my prince.
Only he’s not mine. And I realize too late that I should have substituted Lizzy’s Flim Flam, the flamingo, for my own stuffed animal. Now, Andrew is going to be expecting a camel, and there’s no way he’ll forget or mistake one for the other.
But there’s no way he’s going to mistake Lizzy for me, either.
Maybe if I’d walled myself up in my room the entire time I was here, but not now. Now, Andrew knows me and I know him, and if I’m not mistaken, we’re on the verge of something extraordinary.
Something that only happens every once in a great long while.
Something I wasn’t sure I would ever find again after Thor broke my heart.
Andrew leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead and whispering, “You smell beautiful. You are beautiful, and on the day you decide you want to share my bed, I will welcome you and any inanimate objects you’d like to bring with you.”
“He’s not inanimate. He’s real. If you love them enough, they become real.” I try to keep my tone light, but I sound like I’m on the verge of tears.
I can’t do this. I can’t lie to him anymore. Not for another second.
“Andrew, I—”
I’m cut off by the sound of a foghorn blaring, and Andrew pulls away. “I’m sorry, but this is Nick. He wouldn’t call if it weren’t important. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
Giving my hand one last squeeze, he stands and crosses to the other side of the member’s lounge, disappearing into the men’s room with one of his guards close behind him. The other guard scoots discreetly closer, ready to defend me from any members-only-lounge threats that might attack while Andrew is gone.
But I’m the only threat.
The call is coming from inside the house, and I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about it.
Chapter Nineteen
Andrew
The entire way back to the castle, I can barely look her in the eye.
I smile and joke and try to maintain the relaxed, playful energy we enjoyed at breakfast, but inside I’m waging bloody war with myself.
I can’t do this.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about doing this.
If I’m wrong, then I’m putting an innocent woman and my future wife’s life in danger. Elizabeth has responded well to treatment for anaphylaxis in the past, but what if something goes wrong this time?
What if she forgets to bring her EpiPen to the picnic after the ceremony? What if there’s an accident on the road to the hospital and the ambulance can’t get to her in time? Without immediate treatment, her allergy is life-threatening.
I’m basically considering attempted murder even though I have no wish for Lizzy or anyone else to die.
I just have to know.
I’m eighty percent certain that I’ve been falling for Sabrina, but if there’s any chance that this is Lizzy, I have to try to keep trying.
Shockingly, I want her to be Lizzy. I want it badly enough to make excuses for a lot of things. But I saw the fear in her eyes when I asked if she fell on purpose. It was only there for a split second before she regained her composure, but at that moment, she might as well have had a sign reading, “I’ve been outted as my twin!” in glaring red neon over her head.
She all but showed her hand.
But in the end, she didn’t, leaving me with no choice but to consider the ace Nick just put in mine.
He still hasn’t come up with any definitive physical differences between Elizabeth and Sabrina, aside from the fact that Sabrina is half an inch taller. That, of course, will be difficult to judge without getting the twins barefoot and standing back to back, which isn’t likely to happen on my fucking wedding day. But Nick did discover something interesting while poking around in their medical records. Elizabeth still suffers from a deadly allergy to strawberries and bananas, which I knew. But Sabrina doesn’t, apparently having outgrown her own slight irritation when she was a child.
So all I have to do is sneak the forbidden fruit into my fiancée’s food and wait for her to have a reaction.
Or not.
Nick made it clear he doesn’t advocate poisoning anyone. He was so apprehensive about telling me that he held onto to the information for an entire day before sharing it, but in the end, he’d said, “I kept thinking about what it would be like to marry someone who I was afraid I didn’t really know. So I’m telling you the truth. But be careful, big brother. Whether she’s Elizabeth or Sabrina, she seems to be a decent person. I’m sure she has her reasons for tricking you, if that’s what’s happening. And even if this were a mean-spirited prank, she doesn’t deserve to die for it.”
But we don’t always get what we deserve.
I know that better than most.