Saffi loved Staffan, and he loved her back.
Bree loved Dylan, and he...cared for her.
The thought was depressing and she comforted herself with another forkful of her roasted sesame salad, the only thing she had been eating these past two months just to fit into her super-sexy prom dress.
It had been an impulse buy of sorts, but it had also been meant to challenge herself into losing weight. Bree knew she would always be curvy, but if that was so, then she wanted to be the right kind of curvy without any of the extra padding.
“What are you worried about, really?” Silver asked in a low tone as the other three got into a good-natured argument about Aleksis’ having the makings of a hardcore rock star with his impressive vocal chords.
Bree shrugged.
“You know, I’m not a big fan of rock stars either, but even I’ve noticed that Dylan dates you more often than anyone else.”
She groaned. “That’s supposed to be comforting? Yes, we date but we don’t date exclusively.” And that, she thought grumpily, was what kept her up most nights.
Silver still hadn’t answered.
Bree looked at him.
“Whoa, I’m not the bad guy here,” Silver said, throwing his hands up in an ‘I’m-not-guilty’ fashion. “I understand where you’re coming from, but...” He shrugged. “I’m a guy. In my book, if you’re not my girlfriend, you can’t expect exclusivity from me.”
“Spoken just like a playboy,” she grumbled.
“Did he make any promises?”
She gave him a stoic look.
“So he didn’t,” Silver translated.
“Why can’t he give us a chance?” It was the question that bugged her the most. All these years, Dylan had made her feel special – and sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t looking, he made her feel more than that. He made her feel like he wanted her to be his.
So why wasn’t he doing anything about it?
“Bree...”
Silver’s serious tone made her look at him.
“I don’t know him too well, but I’ve seen you guys together. I’m a hundred percent sure he would never want to hurt you.”
The words gave her hope, and when they moved to the living room to watch TV, the words were the only ones she could cling to when they saw Dylan on E! with a girl seated next to him inside his car.
Chapter Two
“Ready for your big day?” Saffi asked with a beam as Bree jumped inside the backseat of the Aehrenthals’ Porsche SUV.
Bree bent down to kiss the sleeping Aleksis on the cheek before answering. “I’m having trouble breathing,” she admitted, smiling ruefully.
“Because of having to make a speech as one of the Top 10 students in your class or because of someone coming to your graduation?”
Done loading Bree’s stuff in the back, Staffan caught his wife’s last words and kept his face impassive as he got into the driver’s seat. He would rather Saffi not say anything about Charbonneau but then he knew what a hopeless romantic she was. It would be like forcing the sun not to shine if he told her she ought to be careful about raising the younger girl’s hopes.
The fact of the matter was, Staffan was a man in love. He knew what a man in love looked like. Dylan looked like he was that, but right now...he wasn’t.
“...AND NOW, A SPEECH FROM one of our Top 10 students, who recently received a scholarship from the Christopoulos University. Ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Sabrina Wyle.”
She ascended the stage with a wildly beating heart. She had a feeling she would see him hidden somewhere in the crowd. Dylan had a flair for drama most times – again, the classic rock star syndrome that she and Saffi loved to talk about.
Clearing her throat as she stepped up to the podium, Bree started her speech.
Ten minutes came and went.
And yet, there was still no sign of Dylan.
THE SILENCE WAS STRAINED inside the SUV. Even Aleksis, normally as charmingly entertaining as his mother, was quiet, as if he, too, was sensitive to the tension in the air.
Finally, she said, “He never said he’d come.”
The couple seated in front of her didn’t speak.
Bree stared resolutely out of the window, keeping her eyes wide open. One tiny blink and the tears would trail down her face, ruin her mascara, and break down her every defense.
“But the other night, I sort of blackmailed him into coming. I told him I wouldn’t speak to him again if he didn’t.” She exhaled deeply, her fingers curling around the door handle. “Do you think he was making a stand of sorts, like he was telling me I can’t force him into making a decision?”
If he was, Staffan thought, then Charbonneau was an asshole.
He waited for Saffi to speak, to say something eternally optimistic, but when he took a look at his wife, he was stunned to find that she too was close to crying.