Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,89

with Wyatt and Darcy both. It all made so much more sense. And where Darcy had nothing to gain and no reason to lie, Wyatt had quite the opposite. Wyatt’s lie shielded him, gave him a way to hide his true self. Maybe he thought I could provide money for his addiction. Maybe he got off on lying to women. Or maybe I was just a doorway he could use to punish Darcy or get to Georgie again.

At the realization of my error, I was overcome with shame.

I was wrong. I was so deeply wrong, the foundation of what I held true crumbling and sinking into the mud of my disgrace.

I had been a fool, and I had behaved badly. I prided myself on discernment above all, but I shouldn’t have. Because I was wrong. Wrong about Darcy, wrong about Wyatt. Blinded by vanity. Never had I seen my faults so clearly, so painfully.

Until this moment, I never knew myself.

I swiped tears from my face, changing quickly, needing to get out of the apartment, into the sunlight and open skies where I wouldn’t suffocate. And then I was off, heading into Central Park with a full mind and an empty heart, looking for answers among rustling amber leaves.

28

(Im)possibility

LANEY

Two days passed, and I was lost in myself.

The news about the competition didn’t at all lift my spirits, not when I found out that we both won.

Wasted Words loved both proposals, deciding on Liam’s tag line for the store and my fill-in-the-blank idea for the events and crossover marketing. The artistic approach would be somewhere between the two, using elements from both to create a new, comprehensive art set.

I’d been hoping he would win so I could extricate myself from the situation completely with no trace left behind. But now all the marketing would be an amalgamation of the two of us when all I wanted was to forget him.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t know that I ever would.

I hadn’t told anyone about the letter, not even Jett, the weight of my wrongness humbling, silencing, too great to share until I found a way to swallow that shameful truth about myself.

I didn’t know how to admit it aloud. I’d only just admitted it.

So I sat at a booth in Wasted Words that morning, making whatever idle chatter I could. Jett knew well enough that something was wrong, but he didn’t press. I’d tell him soon, tonight maybe. But I just wanted a minute longer to keep my shame to myself before opening up to be judged by anyone the way I’d judged Darcy, whether they would judge me or not.

Fortunately, I had plenty of work to keep me busy.

I’d taken to the routine of working at Wasted Words in the mornings and Longbourne in the afternoons. We’d lost a few of our new staff but nothing major, and Lila thought she was close to finding out who’d been poaching her clients. Georgie had understood completely when I told her I wouldn’t be back unless they absolutely needed me, and the relief from having that particular job off my plate was palpable. I could stay away from Darcy and his vile aunt and work on my real job and my family. I didn’t have time for anything else, especially not that family’s drama, Georgie excluded.

And that was where I was when Wyatt walked into the bookstore.

He looked like a little slice of heaven, tall and blond and beautiful, his eyes bright and smile sincere. Or what I’d thought was sincere before I learned he was a rat.

Wyatt strode over like a king, slipping into the booth across from me. “So you are alive,” he teased.

I didn’t so much as smile. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my texts, so I thought I’d swing by, make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” I closed my laptop with the intent to flee to the back where he couldn’t follow without an invitation. And I wasn’t offering. “I actually have a lot of work to do, so—”

Confusion flickered across his face. “What’s going on? I thought … well, I thought we were going on a date when I got back.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I slid my laptop into my bag and flipped the lid closed.

“What’s changed?” he asked, and then it hit him. His eyes narrowed. “What did he tell you?”

“A very different story than you did.”

“Whatever he said, it’s a lie.”

“And why would he lie to me? He has nothing to gain—we hate