34. Chapter 34

Chapter thirty-four

Silas

F enella carves two pumpkins, and the second is much better than the first.

It's always a fun evening, more so this year because I get to watch Fenella try something new.

That was the plan. I'm not trying to change her, only show her what else is available in the world that doesn't come with a price tag only a few can pay.

"That was fun," Fenella says as we wave goodbye to Edie and Kalle. "Thank you for bringing me."

"I have fun with you."

Fenella tucks her arm in mine. "I know."

I like her confidence. And I like when she laughs at herself, and when she admits she doesn't know something.

I just like her.

We leave out the front door and it's an easy walk home for Fenella—straight down the alley. But I don't make the turn. Instead, I linger by the door because I'm not ready for the night to be over. "Are you…?" I stammer. "I thought… Do you want to walk down to the pier with me?"

She tightens her grip. "Are there stars at the pier?"

"There might be a few."

"Then I'm in. I never could have imagined that looking at stars would be something I enjoyed," she admits as I steer us away from The King's Hat.

"It's not that exciting a hobby," I concede.

"It's not that… okay, maybe it is a bit," she says with a laugh. "But I don't do a lot that involves being outside when it's dark in places where I can see the stars. And I don't do a lot that involves me being still."

"I've noticed that about you. You like to keep busy."

"I thought the first few days here would kill me," she confesses with a laugh. "It's so quiet and—"

"Boring?" I offer.

"No." She gives a quick shake of her head. "I thought so at first, but not now. Now, it's… comfortable. I like being here."

"But…"

"There was no but."

"But you're still going home." I shouldn't be frustrated at the thought. I should be grateful for the time she's been here and that I've gotten to know her.

A nice guy would feel that way.

But how is a nice guy—or any guy—supposed to spend time with Fenella without falling for her? Without hoping for more.

"That's where my life is," Fenella says softly.

"And you're happy with your life? "

She doesn't answer. There is a long pause, and I wait for her response until I finally realize it's not coming. I can only assume that she's so happy with her life and her friends and the new job that her father will give her, and I can't compete with any of it.

How could I think I could compete with anything?

"Show me the stars?" she asks.

I can do that.

It's a short walk to the pier. Some of the fishing boats are in for the evening, but some are out for days or weeks at a time. Waves lap at the hulls, rocking them like a baby swing and lick at the wooden pier jutting out to the sea. The air smells like salt and fish and… pumpkin.

I smell like pumpkin. So does Fenella.

I slow my steps to make the trip out to the end of the pier last longer. The air is colder this close to the water and the odd wave sends a splash of water across the boards, but stars are best seen as far from the light as possible.

"Tell me about your friends," I invite. Knowing how important they are to Fenella, how influential they must be in her life makes me a little nervous about meeting them.

More information on them might help, or it might lead to an anxiety spiral about how I'll never be good enough to be a part of her life.

It really could go either way.

"Have you heard of them?" she counters. Her arm is still in mine, and she brushes against me like she's hunting for warmth.

She wore her toque tonight and a new, warmer coat she bought with Edie. The pink pom-pom bounces against my shoulder when she gets too close.

I don't mind. I don't think Fenella could ever be too close.

"I know there's a group and you seem to move as a pack." Like hyenas, I ponder, but don't share that opinion with Fenella. I don't know her friends—I only see what they put out for the world to see in their posts and ads.

"They… understand," she says slowly. Warily. "What it's like."

"Being you?"

I hear her exhale, almost like she was waiting for me to say something else. Something negative, or judgmental. "Kind of. I sound horrible when I say this, but being me hasn't always been easy."

I put my hand over hers. She might have brought a hat but neither of us remembered gloves, and her fingers are cold under mine. "You got exiled from your home because the world is obsessed with your life. I can't imagine that being easy at all."

"Yes." Fenella's sigh is one of relief and sounds like air escaping from a tire. "You get it."

"Not really, but I can try to understand."

"Most people don't try. They just write me off for having the most perfect of lives. Listen to me." She shakes her head. " I hate complaining about it, but if I do, my friends would understand. Coral especially—her parents own this winery and half of Napa Valley. She had to fight to work there too. No one else works; Lavinia and Milo are models, and that's where I met them."

"That's considered a job," I point out.

"Lavinia's father is an earl and has some relation to the royal family and Milo's family owns half of England. It's not exactly a job when you don't have to do it."

"Is working for me not a job?"

She looks up with a smile. "Working for you is fun. And I needed something to do or I would have been climbing the castle walls."

"Well, I'm glad you convinced me to hire you," I tell her.

"I don't think I have to work very hard to convince you," she says, dropping her gaze, only to look up through her web of eyelashes.

"Maybe not." I feel like I'm being hypnotized. Caught up in a spell where there are only the two of us here. Entranced by Fenella and her—

There are so many things that fascinate me about Fenella, but it's the entire package that has me caught up in this moment—the dichotomy of what I know about her and what the world assumes.

The mask she wears and what she's really like.

Fenella laughs softly, then gasps. "Falling star!" A flash of light curves down the sky.

"Meteor, maybe. It's hard to tell without a closer look."

"Let's call it a falling star so I can make a wish."

I don't tell her wishes are usually made while the star is still in the sky. If Fenella wants to make a wish, who am I to argue?

"What's your wish?" On the end of the pier, I turn to face her, my arm sliding around her waist almost of its own accord.

"I'm not supposed to tell you." Her gaze slips to my mouth.

"Am I allowed to guess?"

"You can try."

This is the moment. This is the very moment that I've been running from since I met Fenella and now, instead of running, I'm leaning in.

I lean down and brush her lips with mine, so gently it's barely a touch.

"That's kind of what I wished for," Fenella whispers, her mouth inches from mine.

"Only kind of?" Without waiting for a response, I put my hand on her neck, stroking my thumb over her strong jaw. I focus on her lips for a moment, so glossy and pink, and then I kiss her.

I kiss Fenella Carrington.

And she kisses me back.

Her lips part under mine, and a noise, soft and sweet, escapes. Her arms wind around my shoulders and she clutches at my jacket. I cup the back of her head and lean into the kiss—into her.

There's no running.

I was so stupid to think I could run away from this.