by Laura Kenyon
Edgar frowned. “I just meant because most people go for puppies.”
“All the more reason to get an older dog.” She was practically singing. Just the thought of being needed—of connecting with another creature who’d been abandoned—filled something within her. “Beast has waited long enough for—”
“Oh,” Edgar interrupted, stretching one syllable the length of an entire sentence. “I get it. He’s damaged goods, and you’re damaged goods, so you think if you can save him then someone will save you, too. Am I right?”
Belle made a claw under the table. Not long ago, she wouldn’t have harmed a spider if it crawled up her leg and chomped down on her knee. But this guy made Donner look almost saint-like. He was the reason women got tossed aside, or taken for granted, or forced to live in a windowless box with no knowledge of the outside world. Why had he seemed so different at the park? She pressed her palm over her forehead and took a deep, calming breath. Her pulse beat through her scar.
She resurfaced when a pimple-faced bus boy swung by to clear their plates. Then the waiter returned to offer them dessert.
“The lady and I will split your caramel-drizzled brownies,” Edgar instructed. This was news to Belle.
“Edgar, I’m quite full,” she protested. Even if this date caused Donner to barge into the restaurant and genuflect at her feet, it couldn’t end fast enough. “I really don’t think I—”
“Nonsense,” he said, glancing at her chest while swiping his oily lips clean. “After that steak you just took down, what’s a few hundred more calories? Better live it up while you’re still Queen. Am I right?” Raising his glass in a one-sided cheers, Edgar tipped back his wine.
An instant later, he was flat on his back with a dark red circle expanding across his chest. His chair was tossed to the side and Belle, clutching her throbbing fist, towered between him and the ceiling.
“Assault! Battery!” he wailed from the floor. “You’re all witnesses! You saw her hit me! Donner was right! She’s off her rocker!”
Belle thought up a handful of snarky replies to his barrage of threats. But in the end, she simply gave him a half-smirk, shook her head, and sauntered towards the door. On her way, she caught many of the diners smiling at her, several flashing close-vested thumbs up, and one doing a miniature, silk-gloved fist pump.
* * *
When she burst into the Beanstalk, Belle’s face was still flaming red and she was seeing double. She spotted Penny instantly and began ranting like a madwoman while Logan ran off to get in touch with his friend. What a chauvinist pig Edgar had turned out to be! How could Logan possibly be friends with him? Why did she always seem to find the men with dual personalities? Belle imagined that he was still at the restaurant, berating all the diners for standing idly by while he got his ass handed to him by a girl.
“What’d I miss?” Cindy knocked between them with a purse large enough for a weekend vacation. She looked at Belle. “Where’s your date?”
Belle gave her a quick hug. “Apparently I have a knack for attracting two-faced bastards.”
“I’m sorry, hun.”
“It’s fine,” Belle said. She’d had enough pity to last a lifetime, and was suddenly more concerned about being a fifth wheel. She looked around hopefully. “No Aaron tonight?”
Cindy pointed to the bar. “He’s getting me a pink flamingo.”
Penny coughed and quickly wiped beer from her chin. “A what? Geez, that man would do anything for you, Cin. Logan wouldn’t be caught dead even ordering a drink like that in public. Too many amateur photographers around with dreams of grandeur.” She paused for a moment and then tilted her head. “I can’t believe we doubted him for even one—”
Cindy yelped and fell into the high top on which Belle was keeping her water. The glass toppled onto its side and spilled everywhere. Cindy turned around to yell at someone behind her—Belle wasn’t quite sure who.
“Did you see that guy bump right into me? What am I, invisible? Is that what happens when you turn thirty?” She combed her hair with her fingers, then pasted on a grand smile. “Anyway, I don’t even know what’s in a pink flamingo. I just thought it would be funny to see Aaron holding something with a tissue paper umbrella and one of those pineapple sticks.”
Belle did not laugh at this. Aaron was a good man, and she knew how rare those were. The last thing she wanted was to watch Cindy unwittingly push him away. But then again, what did she know? She’d spent four years with a man she hardly knew, hoping he’d give her the family she always wanted; then when it finally happened, she’d used the baby as a weapon and refused to take his calls.
While her friends jabbered on about their husbands, and their in-laws, and Cindy’s kids, Belle caught herself wishing Donner was there as well. Without him, she would be on the outside of these conversations from now on. Plus, she had enjoyed his company in the beginning—before they had trouble conceiving and he wandered away. If he did want her back now—if he was remorseful and he promised to change—maybe that was enough. Maybe she didn’t want to know how many rings there were, how many indiscretions there’d been. Maybe it was best to just wipe the slate clean and start over. If the rest of the sea was full of Edgars, she could definitely do worse.
“Hey.” Belle felt a pressure on her shoulders and a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She turned and felt all her hopeful thoughts plummet.
“I didn’t call you,” she said as Rapunzel squeezed beside her, fully oblivious to Belle’s frigid tone.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she chirped. Her breath smelled of scotch and her mascara was smeared. “Cin texted me. She told me what happened with your date. Crazy stuff! I wouldn’t have remembered to call you either. I mean me either. I mean …”
Belle ignored her and turned to ask Penny if everything was ready for Letitia’s party. This sent her on a twenty-minute rant about the twelve hundred place cards she’d had to replace, the tiger eye roses that were being flown in overnight, and the magical peas that seemed to have wandered off.
“What’s the big deal with the peas?” Rapunzel was swaying as she talked. How many drinks had she finished already? Didn’t she just get here? And where was her date?
“Let me guess,” said Cindy, her voice calm as she swirled a pink umbrella around her drink. “You think Letitia purposely lost them so she can blame you for not throwing the ideal party.” Penny bit her lip. Cindy laughed. “Come on, Pen. She’s not the devil. And besides, everything’s gonna be great and—”
“Thassnot why,” Rapunzel interrupted, sloshing half her martini onto the floor. Belle hadn’t even noticed the waiter bring her another. “It’s ’cause all that rock hard pea stuff is poopycock. Don’t deny it, Pens.” She poked her temple and flashed an inebriated smile. “I figured it out.”
As the jukebox switched from modern techno to a classic rock ballad, Cindy glared at Rapunzel and her ridiculous accusation. Belle struggled to catch Penny’s gaze, but it was glued to the floor.
“A bit over the line,” Belle muttered, when what she really meant was, Are we going to let this lying prima donna accuse our friend of something so ridiculous? So scandalous? Let’s all shun Rapunzel from this moment forward. Who’s with me?
But as Penny continued to stare at the wood grains in the floor … at her silver nails … at the bubbles popping against the inside of her glass … the group dynamic shifted. The silent realization hit each woman one by one. Even Rapunzel, who most likely had been joking, dropped her jaw in shock.
“Is that true, Pen?” Cindy seized her friend’s hand and scanned the room. Logan and Aaron had joined another group in the dart corner. “The guys are doing their own thing. You can tell us.”
It took two rounds of assurance and vows of secrecy before Penny slipped back in time seven years and explained what really happened the night she encountered her famous peas.
“I was on a date,” she said, “with another student from Vashia. He was gorgeous and smart and—well, the type of guy
who makes you want to thank him simply for speaking to you. He had one of those smiles that make you feel instantly understood, you know?”
The girls nodded, their expressions soft but wary.
“Well, he was also the type of guy who thinks a girl’s virginity is fair trade for a bottle of wine and a fish dinner … because on the way home, he pulled into a clearing and jumped on top of me.”
Belle, Cindy, and Rapunzel all gasped and covered their mouths. Penny waited and began scratching her arms, as if digging up this secret was digging out a part of herself.
“It was awful.” She clasped her wrist in her fist and twisted it back and forth. “He was so much stronger than me, and we were in the middle of nowhere. In the woods. He kicked the radio on so loud I couldn’t even hear myself scream. Everything just blurred.”
“Monster,” declared a riveted Cindy.
“Asshole,” said Rapunzel.
“Coward,” decreed Belle.
Penny didn’t need to explain that where she came from, rape meant an automatic death sentence—one way or another—for the victim. Every so often, the Marestam media would print a few lines about some poor pregnant girl who starved to death in the streets or hung herself from the ceiling because she’d been raped and then shunned. These always sparked outrage, drummed up a few calls for action, and dissolved again once the politician-bashing and celebrity exposés resumed.
Belle wondered how they treated wives of adulterers.
“Not only was I fighting him,” Penny said, “but I was fighting with myself to not shut down. I wanted so badly to just turn everything off and float away until it was over.”
Belle shook her head. Penny was far too strong for that.
Somehow, Penny explained, she managed to thrash until his head cracked against the sunroof and he wavered. It was her one shot at escape, and she grabbed it. “I was out of the car in seconds,” she said, describing the wet leaves, the mud, the darkness, and the steady rain that soon became a monsoon. “I thought I was going to die out there. But then I saw a house—a massive house all lit up and golden. I didn’t know it belonged to the Queen of Riverfell—I didn’t even know who the Queen of Riverfell was back then—not that it would have mattered. I pounded on that door until I could barely breathe. Then it finally cracked open.”
Belle and the others breathed a collective sigh of relief. They knew the rest of the story: Penny had explained that she was a princess in Vashia; Letitia had offered her a bed of twenty mattresses, under which she’d stashed three magical peas to test her claim; Penny had felt them, earned Letitia’s approval, won Logan’s heart, and the rest was history. It was all a happy ending.
But then Penny continued.
“Do you know that horrible woman actually almost turned me away? ‘We can’t go around bailing out every tramp who gets herself into a bad situation,’ I heard her say. But then I heard Logan question her—at least that’s what I thought I heard; I was pretty woozy, and it hasn’t happened again since, so …”
Cindy shook her head. Logan’s relationship with his mother was not news. “All right,” she said. “Go on.”
“So I told her I wasn’t a tramp. I was a princess from Vashia.” A bitter grunt popped from Penny’s lips. “And what does the woman do? Does she show me to a cushy guest room with a private shower, TV, and pillow top bed? No. She piles a billion mattresses up to the ceiling, plops me on top of them, and pulls the ladder away. Honestly, I’d rather have sprawled outside on the patio. At least then, if I rolled over in the night I’d bump into a wall—not fall to my death.”
“I’ve always wondered about that,” Rapunzel interrupted with a hiccup. Belle rolled her eyes and edged away.
“I was livid and still reeling from before, so obviously I didn’t sleep a wink. Otherwise I probably would have told a polite lie the next morning—said everything was great and I’d be on my way. But when Logan asked how I slept, I was just way too pissed off and shaky to hold back. I told him it was the worst night of my life. I said I’d have been better off curling up on the floor.” The girls fizzled with excitement. “In all honesty, I was probably looking for a fight. But I didn’t know about the magical peas that were supposed to lead Logan to a true princess and the love of his life. Next thing I know, he’s hugging his mother and talking about ‘the one,’ and I’m in a wedding gown pledging eternal commitment to a lie.”
“Stop. It did not happen that fast,” Cindy scolded, eying the boys in the corner. “And you did want to marry Logan. I was there.”
“Yeah,” Rapunzel added. “You guys were actually pretty nauseating.”
Penny sighed. “Eventually, yes. Thank goodness. Logan was so kind and sweet—especially after I saw how awful men could be.” Belle nodded and thought of Edgar. “I wanted him—him, mind you, not his family or his title—by the time I said ‘I do.’ But I never felt the peas. He’s supposed to be with someone else. I’m just a big fat fraud.”
“You’re not fat,” Rapunzel murmured, stumbling forward and leaning all her weight into Penny. “You’re curvy.”
“Things don’t always happen the way we think they’re supposed to,” Cindy said. “That’s not how fate works. It would have been far worse if Letitia let you walk away and Logan lost the love of his life. I’ll bet he knew you were his princess the moment he saw you.” Belle watched Penny opened her mouth as if to protest. Then she closed her lips and nodded. “That’s why he stood up to his mom.”
“Yeah.” Rapunzel jerked forward. Her eyes were half closed. “The spoil’s already milked, so … I mean, the milk’s already spilled.” She paused in confusion. “You’re already married anyway, so it’s a done deal.”
Penny shook her head. “I could be tossed out just as easily as anyone. The public can be vicious, and Letitia’s never approved of me to begin with. Now that I know the peas are missing, I can’t even sit down before checking under the cushion. What if someone knows and wants to expose me? Screw twenty mattresses; I wouldn’t feel those peas beneath a bed sheet.”
While everyone else started fawning, Belle gave a small frown and said nothing. It wasn’t ridiculous. She knew how brittle marriage could be, and how insignificant the final straw could seem before it sent all the others crashing down. She was grateful when Logan and Aaron rejoined the party, filling the next hour with laughter and speculation about Dawn’s public fainting spell. A steady flow of handsome men flittered between her and Rapunzel like rubberneckers on the highway. But none of them were sober, and Belle feared they could all be Edgar.
By the time everyone else was drunk enough to let Rapunzel usher them toward the VIP room, Belle had already attempted to call Donner twice. Aaron stopped her each time.
“I’m probably breaking some major manhood code by telling you this,” he said, sipping a bottle of pumpkin ale, “but you’re in the right here. And you stand a better chance with Donner by playing hard to get.”
Belle knew this, but thanked him for the reminder and tucked her phone back into her purse.
“Don’t ever lose him,” she yelled into Cindy’s ear as they traveled past the thundering speakers. Instead of an appreciative smile, however, her friend glared back in shock. She must have misheard her. Belle cupped Cindy’s ear again. “I said. Don’t. Lose. Aaron. He’s one of the good—”
“Baby sis!”
The voice jabbed into her as half the crowd spun away and her friends kept walking.
“Oh, sis, I’m so happy to see you out and about again.” Before she knew it, Julianne’s arms were wrapped around her. She reeked of cigarettes. “How are you doing?” Belle wrenched back and felt hands on her belly. “And how’s our little one?”
Belle was speechless. She’d assumed her sister had either blackmailed Donner into marrying her by now, or fled Marestam in shame.
“Gosh, I tried calling you a billion times but no one ever picked up,” Julianne yelled over the noise. “I don’t blame you. I’ve been a terrible sister. But Belle, I want you t
o know that I’ve changed. I’ve ended everything with Donner, and I want us to be family again. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Belle forced herself to look at her sister, who was waiting doe-eyed for an answer. What was she playing at? She ended it? Only after Belle turned the entire world against her—not because Julianne felt any genuine guilt. And since when did her sister ever apologize? She never did anything that wasn’t carefully calculated to her benefit, and apologies were a sign of—
A flash of light snapped across the darkness of the club, striking Julianne’s face and at least twenty others around her. Belle’s head tipped back in understanding. The game had changed. Julianne now had two choices: prodigal sister or harlot home wrecker. Donner no longer offered the sort of spotlight that Julianne wanted. Now, Belle was the better option.
“So I’m the winning team now?” Belle shouted over the music.
Completely ignoring the question, Julianne raised her hand dramatically over her heart. “I am so, so sorry,” she said as the circle of onlookers grew to hear her heartfelt apology. She only made it halfway through her scripted monologue when Belle raised a flat palm into the air and held it directly in front of Julianne’s heavily powdered face.
“Can you ever forgive me?” she asked again. “Can we go back to being sisters?”
“Belle?” Julianne asked again, waiting for her moment.
Another camera flashed. Belle clenched her fist, but had no words.
Her hesitation must have given Julianne the impression that they were friends now, because the next words out of her sister’s mouth were: “I heard you had a date tonight. Good for you. I hope it went well.”
Belle felt the temperature shoot up ten degrees. Her meltdown at Chéz Valzi must have already gone viral. “Why is it that my mistakes make more headlines than someone discovering a cure for cancer? Don’t people have anything better to do? That guy had—Any rational woman would have—”
