#PastelPrincess

Chapter Seven

Lounging in the sitting room by the front door waiting for Christopher, I idly clean out the storage on my phone.

I’d successfully checked in on f*******: with Macen and Sophia at Luca’s for lunch, done an ‘unboxing video’ with Macen and Sophia of all our shopping today when we got back, I’d posted and re-blogged a few pictures to my Tumblr, and steadily updated my i********: throughout the day.

Facebook I use to connect with family and friends, Tumblr is sort of an extension of my room – my happy place, YouTube is there to jump ahead of any questions I might get from the public, but my i********: is actually something I enjoy thoughtfully updating. With my #SelfieADayChallenge, daily pictures of my beautiful husky Anastasia, #Foodstagram, #CurrentlyReading updates, and artsy snapshots given how fantastic the camera is on my Android phone, I like being able to have my whole life come down to beautiful, well selected, and simply organized photos.

Just as I empty my photo’s trash, there is a buzz from the speaker that connects to the gate below. Ivan answers it before Mama could and the familiar voice of Christopher’s bodyguard, Noah, floats into the hallway. Lifting, I dawn my peacoat, double-check my pant legs are tucked into my boots and drape my purse in the nook of my elbow. I take one last selfie in the perfectly filtered light from the front window and head to the door. After kissing Mama on the cheek, I follow Ivan down the curling stairs into the small yard. Noah is standing with Christopher, who is holding a small bouquet of inima mov (the national flower of Benovia, the soft purple crocus banaticus). A little caught off guard, I smile sincerely down at my favorite flower.

Soft petals between my thumb and index, my eyes reach his, “Thank you.”

“Your father said it would be all right if I bring you a few from the Embassy,” he comments softly while holding the gate open for me.

Memories of Christopher’s thoughtfulness and knack for remembering the little details that make me-me flood the front of my mind. If I actually let myself, time spent with Christopher reminds me why we were so easily friends. And tonight, I have promised the besties to keep my claws at bay, so I thank him again when he holds the door of his town car open. My eyes watch Noah slide into the driver’s seat after Ivan is in the front passenger. Before I have time to reject, the privacy glass goes up.

Slowly inhaling, expanding my lungs as far as they could go, I ease my breath out very slowly. Reminding myself I can tell Ivan I need to go at any time, plus I have my prescribed Clonazepam with me, I am okay… no matter what, I am okay – this will be just fine.

There’s an open-ended, “So….” from Christopher.

I glance sideways at him, “Mmm?”

“I’m not sure if I should bring this up now or later but -”

“What?” I ask sadly.

His gaze is heavy, eyelids low, brows knotted. “I’m sorry.”

Purposefully, I don’t respond. He needs to find his way out of this. I try and give him a ‘go ahead, it’s okay’ look but I have no idea if I’m successful.

“It was never okay for me to call you that name. I was beyond stupid then and beyond stupid for not bringing it up since. I could easily try and blame this on my brother or my friends at that time, but I knew better – I know better. And having that be the response to… I mean,” he shoves a hand through his hair and clears his throat. “I was scared; scared and stupid and I’m sorry.”

Tickled nose and watery eyes I readjust the rose-gold band of my Fitbit. “It’s not so much the name, Christopher. The ‘gypsy’ part, anyway. You’d be surprised – in the USA, at least, a lot of people romanticize that term… they don’t even realize it’s bad. Mama doesn’t even get mad when people use it about her characters, she just politely corrects them.”

I wave a hand, trying to riel my thoughts back in. “It’s the when… the when and in response to… that, well, devastated me.” My eyes finally meet his, my heart pounding so hard it shakes my chest. “We had kissed. The week before, at that party, remember? We had kissed. We had been holding hands. And then, I… rather bravely asked at that art show your dad dragged us to, asked you if we were dating and that’s when you said it. That we were having ‘fun and all’ but you ‘couldn’t be seen romantically involved with gypsy scum’.

“You were ashamed of me. Of me, of my family, of where I come from. Don’t you get that? That’s why. You destroyed our friendship and whatever else it could be without even blinking. And now, out of f*****g nowhere, you’re trying to have a go at me again. Why?”

Jaw tightening, I try to keep my voice low, though practically growling “Why now? Because I’ve published? Because I’m beautiful? Because I rival you with my GPA? Is it my acting? My dancing? What is it that makes me so desirable, Christopher Gordon O’Crosphen? What of my attributes is so wonderful it outweighs my heritage?”

In his silence, I unbuckle my seatbelt to reach forward and knock on the privacy glass. His hand his light around my forearm before my knuckles can tap it. I turn back to him and snap, “What?”

His exhale quakes. “All of it. Your passion, your strength, and your heritage… you are so undeniably you.” I lower my hand but keep on the edge of my seat. His eyes search my face with urgency. “I know I f****d up. Royally f****d up. I know it will take you time to forgive me, but please, Lori. Please forgive me.”

I think of what Papa said to Mama, about moving forward. I think of what Mama said, about not forgetting but forgiving. Am I really such a stone-cold person? Am I really such a b***h that I would hold this poison in my heart forever? Slowly but unsurely, I lean back into my seat. I don’t want to hate… I pride myself in being selfless, pride myself in being loving and understanding… feeling too passionately sometimes, sure, but having a warm heart, a kind soul.

Blinking back tears, I shake my head. “I swear to God, Christopher… if you hurt me, even unintentionally, I will happily let Ivan kill you.”

I look down to see his hand on the middle seat, palm up. His voice thick, there’s a hint of laughter when he says, “I accept those terms.” Moving the flowers to my lap, I ease my hand into his, our fingers lacing comfortably. He lets out a soft sigh and an even quieter, “I missed you, Little Lori.”

Unable to bring myself to look at him again, my eyes turn to the window. I can’t bear to think of what will happen when this falls apart. Being abandoned a second time… will Macen and Sophia be enough? I squeeze my dates hand because I’m scared rather than trying to be affectionate. “I’ve missed you, too, Chris-Cross… I’ve missed you, too.”