Page 10 of Without Pride and Prejudice
“Grams helped me make those, and the dresses,” she said proudly as she began discarding the items and handing them to me.
I took the neoclassical empire-waist dresses with as much dignity as I could muster, knowing the spectacle we were making. “Perhaps we should exit,” I suggested, feeling every eye on us.
“I want to see how Harper fares. I gave her my carry-on before we exited the plane because the wheels on hers completely fell off, and the poor thing has a sprained ankle and has to wear one of those medical boots. And she’s nervous because she’s meeting her boyfriend’s parents for the first time and wants to make a good impression, so I told her she could have mine. I forgot I had no room in my checked bag for my costumes, so I had to carry them, naturally. The customs officials gave me such funny looks.” She finally took a breath, allowing me time to respond.
“Monroe, you don’t need to save every person you come across.”
“If only I could.” She gave me a meaningful look.
I knew exactly what she was trying to convey. She’d watched her mother choke when she was a small child and had been unable to save her. It had made her feel completely helpless. She never wanted to feel that way again, so she wonderfully (sometimes ridiculously) tried to help everyone she could.
There was no arguing with her or changing her mind about it, so I stood there holding the dresses and bonnets, knowing the risk we ran of some awful photog taking our picture. But I knew Monroe would not move from her place until she knew the outcome, which, given her track record, would most likely end in disaster.
As Monroe waited with bated breath for this Harper to appear, completely oblivious that many in the crowd wereridiculing her, she smiled over at me. “I forgot to hug you,” she realized, then immediately remedied the oversight by wrapping her arms around me, albeit awkwardly, since my arms were full of her costumes. But if there was a will, there was a way, and Monroe always found a way. She burrowed right into me, and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her, dresses and all.
“Hi there, friend. I missed you.”
I did my best to ignore the unflattering chatter around us, or even that she’d referred to me as herfriend, and tried to focus solely on the way Monroe’s body contoured perfectly against mine as I breathed in her delicate floral scent, wishing to be alone with her and away from prying eyes. But I failed miserably to enjoy the moment with her. Throughout my life, my parents had trained me strictly in decorum—how to look and behave in public. And I was breaking every rule with Monroe at the moment. I wished I could say that I didn’t give a damn, but my title required me to care. But more importantly, I wanted to save Monroe from the cruelty of the public and the press. Didn’t she hear them whispering loudly about her?
The anxiety of the situation prevented me from responding to her the way I wanted to.
She looked up with those gorgeous dark eyes of hers, so full of goodness. “What’s wrong? You didn’t miss me?”
“Of course I did.” But like a fool, I let go of her. My father’s dying words reverberated in my head that I needed to put my title before my feelings. I wasn’t sure what he knew about feelings, as he had none, not even for me or my younger sister, Anna. As a result, I could barely acknowledge emotions myself, except for how I felt about Monroe and occasionally Anna. My sister, like me, had a hard time expressing emotion.
Monroe nudged me playfully. “Give me the dresses and I’ll meet you at the car. I know this is embarrassing you.”
The last thing I wanted was for Monroe to believe I didn’t wish to be by her side, even during her crazy antics. She didn’t embarrass me, per se. Not to say I wasn’t uncomfortable. But hadn’t I accused her moron ex of not valuing the things she treasured? Monroe, above all, treasured helping people, even if she was awful at it. Case in point: Harper finally appeared.
“There she is.” Monroe pointed at a scowling, bedraggled woman with a limp, trailing a pink carry-on behind her that matched Monroe’s large suitcase.
A man ran toward her, carrying wilting flowers.
I should have thought to bring Monroe flowers. Admittedly, romance wasn’t my strong suit. Women threw themselves at me all the time, so I’d never needed to woo anyone, much less my best mate.
“Oh, look,” Monroe squealed. “That’s so romantic!”
Just when I thought for once Monroe’s good deed hadn’t taken a bad turn, Harper and her boyfriend began arguing loudly.
“Thank you for the dead flowers,” Harper snipped.
“If you hadn’t taken so bloody long, they would still be fresh.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been through. Some crazy Jane Austen fan offered me her carry-on, and she left a small pair of embroidery scissors in them. I just spent the last several minutes being questioned, probed, and prodded by two customs officers.”
Monroe began to rush over to her. “Oh gosh. I totally forgot about those. I thought I packed them in my checked bag. How did those get through security the first time? I need to fix this.”
I grabbed Monroe’s hand, knowing it would only exacerbate the disaster. “Monroe, please, this once, let it drop. They are clearly not a good couple if they’re bickering about wilting flowers.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip pensively. “But what if—”
“Did you hear what she called you? She’s not worth your time. Please, we’re going to be late.” Truthfully, I wanted to march over to the woman and give her a piece of my mind. How dare she belittle Monroe after what she’d done for her? But decorum prevailed, as always.
“Well, I am a crazy Jane Austen fan.”
“Yes, you are.” I couldn’t help but smile. She somehow managed to bring out a softer side in me, even if it disconcerted me. “Shall we go live out your Austen fantasy?”
She nodded, although I could tell it disappointed her that her endeavor to save someone hadn’t had the outcome she was hoping for.
