She’s smiling. It’s demure and discreet, but it’s there. A smile — a fucking genuine one at that.
Could be because of the meeting with Dad and Eduard, or it could be everything that happened over the days since that tiny thing barged into my life.
I know one thing for certain: she won’t be able to leave this time.
Cole was right — it’s time to seize the chance.
12
Teal
I was never one for small talk. It causes my skin to itch. Besides, I’m too awkward for that.
Human interaction has always been my weakness; that’s why I keep it to an absolute minimum.
However, as I sit with Charlotte, I don’t think of the situation as small talk, but more like afternoon tea. Or rather something more pulling and extraordinary.
It takes me a long time to connect to people — if I ever do — and it takes them ages to warm up to me. That’s what happened with Elsa and her friend Kim.
Charlotte is different.
She has an elegant finesse about her that makes me feel more welcome than my skin allows.
Despite our recent acquaintance, she talks as if we’ve known each other for ages, as if Lars making us tea is a daily occurrence. She didn’t even protest when I offered to do her makeup and pick her dress.
People with titles like Charlotte dress up in the house, sort of like in the Victorian era.
I didn’t feel the hours passing by. The reason I’d come started to fade away too. Soon enough, I found myself talking to her, and not due to what’s expected in these situations.
Me, talking. Me, striking up a conversation.
At first, I think it’s because I feel sorry for her. After all, Charlotte is a victim in all this, and she doesn’t deserve what will happen at the end of the tale.
But eventually, I realise I do enjoy her company, right around the time I start telling her about Knox’s pranks and Elsa’s new love.
“How about you?” she asks in her feather-light, soothing-to-the-ears voice.
“Me?” I pause in tying the ribbon on her waist. I’ve always had a thing for clothes and appearances, even if mine lean towards the eccentric type.
“Yes. Do you have a new love like your sister?”
“No…I don't.” What the hell is up with that hesitation at the end?
Charlotte’s beautiful face falls a little, but she pats my hand. “Don’t refuse the idea too soon. You never know.”
“How…” I peek up at her. “What does it mean to love? I mean, I know I love my dad and Knox, but I’ve read there’s a different type?”
I purse my lips as soon as I say the words. Why am I pouring out my issues with understanding emotions on a woman I just met and barely know?
Charlotte smiles; it’s bright and a little weak, but it reminds me so much of her son. There’s no question about from whom he got that radiance.
“I wish there was a textbook explanation for that, but I can promise you this: the moment you encounter love, you’ll recognise it right here, chérie.” She places a soft hand above my left breast.
I stop myself from telling her I feel things but mostly fail to recognise them. There’s no fixing that; even the therapy didn’t work. It only gave me a few pointers, and sometimes, those don’t give the right answers.
Human emotions are weird.
Charlotte drops her hand and sighs. “I also felt as confused as you when I first met Edric.”