Chapter 10

A word? Elizabeth was not an idiot. She knew how the world worked. As talented as she might be, a word from Darcy would get her noticed by one of his companies. Any company. That the man she had once considered cold and indifferent had been observant—no, thoughtful—enough to notice her part-time artistic efforts was amazing. Once, she would have resented his help, taken it as officious and meddling. Now, though, she knew better.

He was not at all what she had thought a few months ago. He is quiet, not aloof. Thoughtful, not disdainful. And funny. No one had made her laugh more or understood her better than Darcy had these past few weeks. How was that possible? Had he always been this way and she had refused to see it? Or had he kept it hidden?

I like him. I like him a lot. He liked me once. He told me he did, and he kissed me, thinking I felt the same.

It had shocked her, the kiss. However startling his impassioned declaration had been, the fiery emotion in his kiss and the feelings it had stirred in her, had been unsettling. She had made clear what she thought of him, issuing a brutal takedown. If I remember what he said to me, my words were worse, and they must linger in his thoughts. The idea of having hurt him—continuing to hurt him—made her feel awful. Ashamed.

She had judged him harshly because he was not what she wanted him to be—open and friendly like Charlie. But he was open and friendly with those he felt comfortable around—with his sister, with Charlie.

With me.

Elizabeth woke up early on Saturday, and although dreading her impending date, she took extra care with her clothes and makeup. No one needed to dress nicely for morning coffee with a stranger they had no interest in—she knew this—but she changed her shirt three times anyway before switching to a romper, and had to call an Uber to arrive on time at the little French brasserie where Darcy had scheduled her date.

He’d called it one of his favorite places. Of course, that was against the rules, and now she’d imagine him at every table.

Pedestrian traffic and double-parked cars led her driver to drop her off half a block from her destination. Spotting the restaurant’s awning, she saw outdoor tables full of couples canoodling, looking as if they’d rolled out of their shared beds and gone to dine alfresco and down mimosas. It was so romantic, she almost ached. Or at least she did until she noticed a beefy, bearded man in a tight yellow t-shirt walking towards her, smiling. A red rose dangled from his hand. No, no, no! Her dread shifted to relief as he moved past her and handed the flower to a woman in a matching canary-yellow shirt.

“Elizabeth?”

Pulling off her sunglasses, she glanced to her left and found Darcy standing a few feet away at a small table. “Wait, why are you here? Did my date cancel? Are you filling in?”

“No, actually, er, do you mind if I’m your date?” He picked up a pink peony from the table and handed it to her.

Elizabeth was too busy processing the situation, too busy quelling her nerves, to reply. Darcy looked worried and began speaking quickly. “I couldn’t risk disappointing you again, and apparently I have a dearth of acquaintances who are anywhere near good enough for you.”

She nodded, a little shocked at such a compliment, before a small smile broke through. “I should be sad for you, having such terrible friends,” she said, sitting in the chair Darcy pulled out for her. Her finger traced the soft edge of the sweet-smelling flower she laid on the table. “But coffee with you is far less stressful than with a stranger, especially since Charlotte didn’t come today.”

“Was she your emergency chaperone?”

She gave him a wry look. “Yes.”

“You didn’t really think I’d fix you up with a?—”

“Serial killer? No, but men are weird, and she was my escape hatch. A tug on my left ear and she’d call with some work or family emergency.”

“I see. You understand I’m now fixated on your earlobe, worried you’ll unconsciously tug at it while we’re here.”

“But I won’t. Of course, if it was the guy in the t-shirt, I’d be pulling on my earlobe by now,” she said softly, ensuring the aforementioned man and his date wouldn’t hear her. “I couldn’t see you setting me up with him, but he had a red rose, so...”

Darcy shook his head and gave her a rueful smile. “I saw him when he was a block away—rather hard to miss, obviously—and thought he was harmless till I noticed the rose. I considered buying it from him to avoid any misunderstanding, but from the looks of it,” he said, gesturing towards the laughing couple, “he would have refused anyway.”

“Perhaps violently. With those muscles, he likely could bench-press three of you.”

He laughed. “Yes, but I could outrun him.”

Despite his attempts at light conversation, Elizabeth could see Darcy was tense. She knew him well enough now to wonder why he was actually here. Did he have any idea how happy it made her? Was it possible he still liked her and was disguising his true feelings? God knows, she was hiding hers. Could he hear her heart pounding?

“Well, I appreciate you coming to my rescue today?—”

“It wasn’t exactly a rescue?—”

“—and that you knew how much I like peonies.”

“To paraphrase something you once said, red roses are a cliché, red carnations are filler.” He shrugged. “But peonies, which take effort to bloom and smell wonderful, are special.”

“Like me?” Smirking, she tapped him with the flower and reached for the ice-cube filled water glass, drinking thirstily to quell her nerves as much as to quench her thirst. When she moved the glass away to set it back on the table, Darcy was watching her with a soft, amused smile. She held up her hand. “No ‘thirsty’ jokes, please.”

“I am far too well-mannered for that,” he said, lifting his own glass. “Besides, you’re tolerating me as your date.”

“Hardly tolerating. You are a huge relief—the perfect fill-in.” Elizabeth frowned. “No, more than that. It’s— Can we walk? I have too much energy to sit right now.”