The Rake (Boston Belles #4) by L.J. Shen

Utensils clattered. Persy dropped a piece of fried clam on the floor, making no move to pick it up, still staring at me. Sailor and Aisling looked at each other like they were contemplating whether to check my temperature or not.

Persy was the first to clear her throat, proceeding with caution. “Elaborate, please.”

I told them everything. About the will, the inheritance, and the issues that came with it. About Devon’s mother, and sister, and bankruptcy. I told them about his late nights with Louisa and about how I pushed him into her arms.

How I played my cards in the worst possible way.

I told them everything other than the secrets Devon and I had shared. The holes in our hearts part.

After I was done, the entire table fell silent.

Sailor seemed to recover before everyone else. She leaned back in her chair, green eyes wide, and blew out air. “Damn.”

I buried my face in my hands. No good advice was ever prefaced by the word “damn.”

Persy’s staff began moving our plates away, making themselves invisible. For the millionth time, I wondered how my sister, who’d come from such humble beginnings, could get used to this kind of wealth.

“Any more helpful feedback?” I raised my eyebrows.

“It’s just that you’ve never really shown interest in anyone like that before is all.” Sailor looked at Aisling and Persy for help, saw that they were still processing, then added hastily, “I may or may not have told him to not even try, and just marry Louisa to spare himself the heartache. I’m sorry, Belle. When you mentioned it the other day, it seemed like you were totally fine with them tying the knot.”

I wanted to throw up, but smiled faintly.

I needed to get up and leave. Maybe call Devon on my way home. He’d come, even if he was with Louisa. That was the kind of man he was.

Aisling rubbed her temple, her thick, dark eyebrows drawn together. “This is wrong. This is all wrong. You know you have to fight for him, right?”

Easy for her to say. For all her sweetness, Aisling was vicious when it came to love. She fought tooth and nail to win her husband after pining for him for years.

“And ruin his family’s life?” I let my head fall to the table.

“His sister and mother are not your problem,” Sailor said flatly.

“Plus, he’ll be ruining his own life and Louisa’s if he marries her while he is in love with you,” Persy finally chimed in.

We were interrupted by the staff again. This time, they brought dessert and tea. Custard, lemon merengue, and fat pieces of nougat.

We waited until they were gone before we spoke again.

“Are you crazy?” I whisper-shouted, sticking my spoon deep into the custard. “He’s not in love with me.”

“This is amazing,” Aisling murmured around her own spoon, pointing at the custard. “And in my humble opinion, as the person with the highest IQ in the room, he is in love with you.”

“Super humble.” Sailor popped a piece of nougat into her mouth. “But I actually agree. You have to give him the chance to prove himself, Belle. If he knew how you felt, he wouldn’t even pay Louisa any attention.”

“I don’t know what kind of relationship they have.” I helped myself to a lemon merengue.

Okay. Maybe I did have a pregnancy symptom in the form of wanting to eat anything that wasn’t nailed to the floor.

“Time to ask,” Sailor said.

“The thing about men is…” Persy sipped her tea, a faraway expression painted on her face, “…sometimes they require a little push to realize that what they need and what they want is in front of them and can be found in the same woman.”

“Amen to that.” Aisling lifted her teacup in the air, making a toast.

“I’m not like you guys.” I shook my head. “I don’t have the ability to make someone else happy. As soon as I become vulnerable to them, it’s game over. I do something horrible and try to push them away. So I can’t promise him all the things you’ve given to your husbands. The family, the children, the … you know … unconditional love and shit.”

I could tell from the looks on my friends’ and sister’s faces that I did not manage to make my point across with tact or finesse.

“Is that all we’re good for? Making our so-called men happy?” Sailor asked with a humorless smile on her face. “I’m only a former Olympic archer and the owner of one of the biggest food blogs in the country. What do I know about running a business or having a life outside of marriage?”

She was, indeed, all those things. But she had also married into a wealthy family and had come from one, so she had nothing to prove to anyone.

“And I’m just a doctor.” Aisling took another sip of her tea. “Definitely not as earth-shatteringly important or influential as you.”

Persephone, who didn’t have a day job, was the only silent one, so I made a point of turning toward her to say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?” She sat back, looking perfectly composed and unaffected. “Oh, I may not work nine to five anymore, but I throw fundraiser events that raise millions of dollars for kids with needs, women’s shelters, and animals who’ve been abused. I feel incredibly fulfilled and don’t need anyone’s permission to call myself a feminist.”