Do I love him back?

Chapter Twelve

If you had asked me about Clark three years ago, my eyes would’ve turned dreamy, I would’ve smiled a secret smile and my mind would’ve drifted off to far-away places. All of those far-off fantasies would have starred Clark as the hero of the story. He always came to my rescue.

He was my champion.

But times have changed. We have changed. We aren’t who we were three years ago, and honestly, I would be worried if we were. Three years is a long time for nothing to change.

Change is a natural progression in life.

Clark was my very first crush, and having Frankie tell me I could’ve had Clark all that time makes my stomach ache.

Bitterness sweeps through me and attacks my mind with vicious flare.

If you had Clark back then, you never would’ve fallen for that asshole.

Does that make it Clark’s fault, what happened with James?

A solid bubble of emotion clogs my throat and stops me from swallowing. I blink vacantly as my thoughts take a turn in the opposite direction.

What do you feel?

Do you still get those butterflies when he’s close by, or have you resigned yourself to the fact all you’ll ever be is friends?

I’m...I’m just not sure. The more I think about this, the more unclear the answer becomes.

Dear Lord, please help me find clarity in this trying time.

Brushing my hair, I pause mid-stroke to look at myself in the bathroom mirror.

Bob told us that tonight’s dinner was to be casual and relaxed, meaning we don’t have to wear our daily disguises. So tonight, I’m wearing a black, tasteful dress; although, I never wear dresses when I don’t have to, and I’m not sure why I chose tonight to wear one.

Am I subconsciously trying to look nice for Clark?

Sighing, I shake my head and place my frigid hands on my cheeks to cool them and take some of the intense pinkness away from them.

My dress is nice. At least I can say that much. It’s black linen, comes to just above the knee and is fitted everywhere it should be. The neck remains high, buttoned up, with a white collar. The sleeves are long and also have white cuffs. A thin black belt came with the dress, but I don’t wear it. I prefer to keep it simple.

This dress was a gift from Frankie and Ari on my eighteenth birthday. We don’t usually give gifts for birthdays, but they insisted. They said every girl should have a little black dress, so when we went two towns over and I chose this one, they both said it wasn’t the type of little black dress they’d had in mind.

But it’s me. And I love it.

I sit on the edge of the tub and pull on my thigh-high white tights, slide on my black Mary-Janes and just as I go to exit—uncharacteristically and impulsively—I stop to reach for one of Ari’s headbands. I choose a thin, black band with a small bow on the left side.

After I’m sure about myself, I make my way down the stairs and through to the kitchen. Dinner will be held at Mirage, so when I reach the kitchen and find Ari and Frankie still in their habits, I stop in my tracks.

Ari spots me first. She looks flustered, prattling off harsh words in French. When she settles on me, she beams. “Oh, dear. You look beautiful.”

Frankie looks up from placing vegetables onto serving dishes, and rather than smiling, she looks down at my clothes and pales. “Oh, Cat...”

Before she can say a thing, Bob—no, scratch that—Father Robert appears by my side, dressed the part. He smiles down at me. “You look very pretty, girlie.” But the expression doesn’t reach his eyes.

My mind reels. “What’s going on?”

Father Robert puts on a tight smile. “Change of plans. We have an extra guest tonight. An outsider.”

Oh, shit.

My eyes widen as I’m suddenly panicked. “Should I go change?”

Frankie cringes, while Bob utters quietly, “Too late for that. They’re already here. Just go with it. We’ll be okay.”

“We’re here!” comes from the back entrance.

Smiling widely at Clark’s voice, I hear Frankie mutter, “Oh, shit,” a second before I turn to see Clark.

And his date.

***

I take my fork and stab at a roasted potato on my plate so hard that a shrill squeaking noise fills the awkward silence of the church’s dining quarters. I seem to miss everyone cringe and wince at the high-pitched sound.

I’m oblivious to everything and everyone at the moment. My mood tonight went from hopeful to murderous. Yes. Murderous.

Literally.

If I had a job tonight, I would have executed it in mere minutes. Blood pumps through my veins at such a speed I can hear it pulse and roar through my eardrums.

I’m furious. But what makes me even more furious is that I’m not sure why I’m so angry.

I knew it. I told Frankie Clark and I were just friends, but she pushed. And pushed. And pushed until I thought—for just a moment—we could have something good together. Sure, my feelings for him have changed, but he’s a great looking guy; he’s sweet, adorable and a great friend, and I’m sure—given the chance—I could fall in love with him.

It took me all day to work up the courage to admit I wanted to kiss him, that I wanted to feel his lips on mine, because I know if I had been given the opportunity to kiss him, that’s all I would’ve needed to know if Clark and I are compatible.

Although, you felt the zing with James...

That wasn’t a zing. I was wrong about James. This time around, when I feel the zing, I’ll have something to compare it to. Something to judge it against.

This time, you’ll know if it’s lust or something more.

I sure as hell hope so.

After Clark and Michelle arrived, I stood in the kitchen blinking stupidly at the pretty woman, completely missing my introduction to her. Bob nudged me in warning, so I gritted my teeth and held out my hand to the obnoxiously kempt outsider.

As I shook her hand and smiled, I pictured picking every blonde hair out her head one-by-one. I thought about taking the fork from the long kitchen bench and gouging her pretty blue eyes out. It would’ve been so easy to take the carving knife next to the resting racks of lamb and slit her dainty little throat, then watch the blood and life ooze out of her simultaneously.

But then she smiled at the mention of my name. Then hugged me.

“Oh, wow! You’re Cat! Clark talks so much about you.” Winking, she chuckled. “You’re his special girl.”

I stood there mid-embrace, begging my lip not to curl at her touch, while pleading with my hand to avoid flipping her ass-over-tit and breaking her wrist.

My response was laced with venom. “That’s funny. He never mentioned you.”

Loosening her hold on me, she took a step back and fluttered her lashes up at him. When he smiled back down at her, it hurt a little. Irrationally. That smile had been directed at me so many times before; I wonder how I missed just how special it was.

That’s my special smile.

She beamed at me. “Well, we didn’t tell anyone we were seeing each other.” Taking Clark’s hand, her smile softened. “We wanted to make sure we knew each other a bit better before we took the next step.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Excuse me, Cinderella?

Next step? Next step?

I swallowed hard, then stuttered, “N-next step?”

Clark cut in then, “Yeah, meeting each other’s family.”

Family. Yes. We are a family. I should be happy for him. I should.

So why do I feel as though she’s won and I’ve lost?

Jaw set, I stab at a carrot with such force I almost crack my dinner plate. Father Robert sits at the head of the table, with Sisters Arianne and Francis by his sides. On one side of the table, Michelle and Clark sit close together, whispering soft words to each other.