by Whitney G.
“A break?” My voice cracked. “You want us to take a break from each other?”
“I think that’s what’s best for now, Kate.” He looked as hurt as I felt. “I still want you to wait for me―for us, but not like this. I don’t want you to be miserable.”
“James, I’m fine with things how they are.”
“You’re not,” he said, looking right through me. “You’re miserable as hell, and I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
“It’s not your fault.”
He sighed and shook his head. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything...” I felt tears falling down my face. “What type of ‘break’ are you suggesting here? One where we talk even less than we already do?”
“One where we don’t talk at all.”
Silence.
Heartbreaking, tear-falling, silence.
“It’ll hurt too much to talk to you,” he said finally. “Even worse than it does right now.”
“So, you’re saying that we’re over.” I couldn’t handle this conversation. “But you still want me to wait until you’re ready for us not to be over?”
“Kate, you’re twisting my words and you know it.” “I still want you to wait for me. This isn’t the end of us.”
“Then why does it sound like it?”
He sighed. “Okay, Kate. How about we talk every Sunday?”
I said nothing.
“Kate, I’m trying to be the best I can be so we can have a life together,” he said. “I told you that I want to marry you when I come back.”
“I’d marry you right now, James.”
“You know why that can’t happen.” He gave me a smile. “Just trust me. Let’s try to do once a weekend―see if we can stick to that.”
“Every Sunday?”
“Every Sunday.”
“But this is still a break?”
He nodded. “Temporary break. It’ll get better with time.”
...
Kate
~ October 31st, 2009 ~
ME: HEY. IT’S SUNDAY. What time do you want to talk?
Me: Hey, it’s a little after midnight ... Are you still going to call me?
Me: James ... It’s Monday. Are you going to call?
Me: James, seriously?
Me: ...
Me: I emailed you ...
Me: Has something happened?
Me: So, you can email me back, but you can’t CALL?
Me: I sent you a postcard as well. My first one. Did you get it?
JAMES GARRETT
P.O. Box 32576
Wharton School of Business
3. 13. 85.
Three Sundays and yet, no phone calls. Thirteen voicemails I’ve left on your phone. Eighty-five times that I’ve reread all your postcards, and eighty-five days since you’ve sent the last one. I’m frustrated, James.
I’m still waiting...(but what the hell is going on?)
Kate
ME: MY POSTCARD WAS sent back ... I wrote the address just like you’ve done. The post office must have misread my handwriting. I’ll write neater next time.
Me: It was good getting an EMAIL from you today. I would’ve preferred a call ...
Me: I’m going to stop texting you ...
Me: James, this isn’t like you at all. You can’t even Skype me anymore????
MORE WEEKS PASSED, and my text messages went unanswered. Outside of an occasional, “I miss you, Kate,” email from him—an email that didn’t address any of the things I’d written or sent to him, nothing else changed.
Our connection was unraveling, the wires fraying and breaking with each passing day.
Still, I missed him so much that it physically hurt. The pain woke me up at night, and the distance between us made me break into tears upon just thinking about it.
I didn’t want us to end. I wanted our love story to etch itself onto the pages of the best book, to be reread for years to come, but deep down, I knew reality always found a way to mess up my places.
“It’s not the end, Kate. Just wait for me ...”
...
Kate
~November 5th, 2009 ~
EIGHT WEEKS.
Not a single phone call, email, or a postcard from James in eight fucking weeks.
I even bought a new phone and started a new number out of anger, but I still obsessively checked the old one. Even if it never rang with his name.
I’d listened to every song Adele had ever recorded, cried myself to sleep night after night, and used Sarah Kay as a decoy on weekends, since outside of rehearsals, I didn’t have the energy to practice. I’d never been more convinced that I’d lost the man of my dreams for no reason. The so-called love of my life.
“You’ve got to get out of the bed today, Kate.” Sarah Kay pulled the covers off of me. “Like, this has to stop.”
I rolled over and groaned. “Get out of my room.”
“No.” She pulled the window drapes open, letting in the rays of the sun against my wishes. “I’m not covering for you anymore this week, by the way. I have a life, and I’d appreciate it if you got back to yours.”
“Do you think he died?”
“What?” She rolled her eyes. “No, he didn’t die, Kate. He told you he wanted to take a break, and then he offered a one day a week thing, but that didn’t work out. He’s ghosting you, probably, but he didn’t die.”
“Forgive me for asking.”
“You don’t even know him that well.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I mean, think about it. I know the sex was probably good—”
“It was more than good.” I cut her off. “It was perfect.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Well, outside of the sex and him doing things here or there, what do you know about him? Outside of the fact that he’s hands-down the sexiest guy we’ve ever seen ... what else is there?”
I let out a sigh. I didn’t have the energy to go through this with her right now. Before I could roll over again and play another Adele track, there was a knock on the door.
Our housekeeper.
“Yes, Miss Hannah?” Sarah Kay said.
“Grant Harrison is here to see your sister,” she said. “Should I tell him that she’s still, um ...” Her voice trailed off for a few seconds. “Should I send him away and get her some more tea?”
“No,” Sarah Kay answered for me. “She’s going to stop being pathetic as of today. Tell Grant she’ll be down in twenty minutes.”
“I JUST ASKED YOUR DAD if he would grant me permission to marry you.”
“What?” I laughed. “Did you tell him that you’re on drugs right after that?”
“I’m dead-ass serious, Kate.” His expression remained stoic as he loosened his tie. “I need you to hear me out.”
“I don’t love you.”
“I don’t love you either.” He scoffed. “This marriage would be a pure transactional one, and it would benefit the both of us.”
I wasn’t sure whether to return to my room or jump off the balcony. Either of those options sounded far more appealing that listening to Grant’s logic.
“I hope you get the help you need,” I said, turning around and heading to the door. “I’ll have Sarah Kay send you a list of local therapists.”
“Wait, Kate.” He jumped in front of me before I could turn the knob. He looked panicked and I could see that his eyes were red and puffy. “Just sit down and hear me out for fifteen minutes, please.”
“I’ll give you five,” I said. “But spoiler alert, I won’t ever marry you.”
He waited until I took a seat, and then he slowly paced the room.
“For the past few weeks, my parents have been threatening to put a hold on giving me my inheritance when it’s due,” he said. “They think I spend too much of my time having sex, drinking, and partying.”
“I detect no lies.”
“Can you let me finish, please?” He looked genuine. “I’m begging you to just listen.”
&n
bsp; I tucked my lips into my mouth and nodded.
“Anyway, they always said little things about me not ‘deserving’ the money or me not being mature enough to helm the company when my dad decides to step down.”
Once again ... No lies detected.
“A few nights ago, they sat me down over dinner and―” He paused. “Okay, it wasn’t over dinner. They were just sitting at the table waiting on me when I got home at four in the morning. They said they were done believing I would change and they were going to make me wait another five years for my inheritance―” He looked at me. “Until I said that I’d been hanging out with you.”
I crossed my arms.
“I told them that I hadn’t really been partying all the time, that ‘Kate Kensington’ and I were in a relationship and we were just being secretive and didn’t want anyone else to know.” He smiled. “You should’ve seen how happy and proud they were, as if being with you was the only thing I’d ever done right in my life.”
“Am I allowed to talk yet?”
“Forty-five more seconds,” he said, pulling a red velvet ring box out of his pocket. “I told them we were serious so ...” He cleared his throat. “I asked your uh, friend, what type of ring he would dream of getting you someday and just took his notes to a jeweler.”
“How romantic of you....” I was tempted to look at the ring, but my heart couldn’t bear it right now, and I was still trying to make it a full day without crying over James.
“So,” he said, going over my five minute time limit, “I’m asking that you marry me for ninety days, Kate. I get my inheritance on time, I get to start shadowing my father at the company, and you get to be married to a Harrison. Temporarily, of course, but still.” He shrugged. “And at the end of ninety days, we’ll put out an announcement saying we rushed into marriage and are taking a break but we’ll remain friends and hopefully remarry again. Then we’ll quietly divorce and that’ll be the end. Win. Win.”
“Yeah, so ...” I stood to my feet. “Hell no.”
“You didn’t even think on it.”
“What exactly is there to think about?” I couldn’t believe his audacity. “Your arrangement only benefits you, and no offense, but I don’t like you enough to care about you not getting your inheritance or impressing your parents. Go try one of the Walton sisters.”
“Your dad told me yes.” He glared at me. “He said he’d be honored to have me as a son-in-law.”
“Until he finds out who you really are.”
“You marrying me would benefit you more than me, Kate.” He was officially delusional. “You just didn’t give me enough time to list all the reasons.”
“Right ...”
“Well, thank you for the laugh,” I said, opening the door. “I really needed it today.”
He picked up the ring box and tossed it to me. “I think you should go talk to your dad and then come back to me with a yes. I’ll wait.”
“The only person I am waiting for is James.”
“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrow. “Tell me, how’s that going? Still crying in your room every night, or have you finally realized you were just a fall fling to him?”
I left the room without answering, slamming the door shut behind me.
A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, I walked through the rose garden. I felt the weight of Grant’s ring box in my pocket, and I was looking for the perfect spot to bury it into the ground.
“Kate?” The deep sound of my father’s voice made me turn around. He was standing next to my mother, and they were both sporting smiles.
“Sir?”
“Is there any reason why you told Grant to wait in the library while you thought about his proposal?”
“I already gave him my answer.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s a no for me.”
“Well, if it was just about you, that answer would be acceptable.” My mother’s smile slipped. “This is about our family.”
“Dad,” I said, looking at him, “Can you please tell Grant it’s a no? Maybe he’ll actually accept it from you.”
“My father’s smile fell next and the small warmth in his eyes slowly gave way to coldness.
“Have a seat, Kate.” He pointed to the white tea table. “Let’s talk about why you’ll be telling Mr. Harrison that you accept his proposal by the end of the evening.”
I didn’t make a move to sit. I simply crossed my arms.
“Your father told you to sit, Kate,” my mother said, as she moved into a chair. “Sit down now.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Fine.” My father held up his hand and took a seat for himself. “We know that it may be a bit early to consider marriage, since your relationship with Grant is new, but―”
“We do not have a newfound relationship.” I interrupted him. “I hate him just as much now as I did when we first met.”
“We also understand that it’s hard for you to see what an amazing opportunity this is.” He spoke as if he’d never heard my words. “The Kensington and Harrison families merging would mean a lot for our businesses.”
“Then it sounds like you need to draw up a different type of contract with Grant, if you want to deal with his father’s business.” I shrugged. “This has nothing to do with me.”
“This has everything to do with you, you ungrateful―” My mother sucked in a breath before she could finish that sentence. “Have you not noticed the small changes that have been happening around the estate lately? The staff working fewer hours? No more daily turn-down service in the bedrooms? Not a single guest for months?”
I didn’t answer. I hadn’t noticed that at all.
“I was days away from filing for bankruptcy, Kate,” my father said, looking more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him. “We were about to prepare layoffs and write the embarrassing announcement in the press for next month.”
“He was going to allow ‘the regulars’ to tour my garden to bring in extra income, Kate.” My mother looked horrified. “That’s how close to desperation we were. I was about to have to have a part-time job.” She leaned on my father’s shoulder, and he ran his fingers through her hair.
“Then Mr. Harrison showed up to ask for your hand in marriage, and I realized that there would be no need for layoffs or embarrassing announcements. That our families uniting would provide us with one hell of a business arrangement, and we’ll ensure that the prenuptial agreement allows you a certain amount of capital. We’ll also ...”
The rest of his words came through muted. I could no longer hear. All I could do was see the greed and excitement in his and my mother’s eyes. All I could feel was the pain in my chest.
When his lips finally stopped moving, I let out a breath.
“Can’t you just use my inheritance?” I asked. “I mean, you’ve clearly decided I’m not getting it on time since I’ve been twenty-one for a few months now, so surely that’s enough to get you by while you come up with something else. Something that’s not so damn demeaning to me.”
“Watch your mouth, Kate.” My mother narrowed her eyes. “We’ve already used your inheritance to continue paying the house and grounds staff. When you marry Grant, we’ll quickly reload the account and award it to you in installments.”
“You spent all of my inheritance?”
“You’re saying ‘all’ like it was actually a lot.” She shook head. “It was a couple million. We’ll easily get it back if you listen.”
I sank into a chair, in utter disbelief. “There’s none of the thirteen million dollars left?”
“We need you to focus, Kate.” My father ignored my question. “We need you to do this for the family, understand?”
I said nothing.
They’d officially lost their goddamn minds.
They talked to me for two more excruciating hours, followed me to my room and fought with me for more.
The moment they left me alone, I texted James.
Of course, he didn’t answer, so I called him every hour, on th
e hour.
I booked a flight to see him, but something told me to do my due diligence before showing up to his apartment while he was overseas.
I called the admissions department at The Wharton School of Business, got put on hold for half an hour. When they finally transferred me to the right person, I nearly had a heart attack.
“Miss, we’ve never enrolled a James Garrett into our program. Are you sure he goes to this school?”
I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Except the unfortunate text message that kept popping up in my inbox every morning like clockwork.
Grant: Do you have an answer for me?
I was officially out of options.
...
Kate
~March 5th, 2010 ~
I WASN’T SURE IF IT was because I was delusional or stubbornly in love, but I continued making the two and a half hour drive to James’s lake house every weekend after the wedding. My heart refused to give up on seeing him again, refused to accept that he’d broken his promise to me.
While I was there, I lay on the wooden swing he made for me and took rides around the lake via his collection of boats.
Would he really make a false promise and never bother coming back?
When the sun began to set over the horizon, I closed his curtains and headed back to Edgewood. By the time I made it home, a woman in a tightly fitted red dress was being whisked away by our security guard. I looked her over and immediately knew she was one of Grant’s many mistresses.
We hadn’t had sex and I didn’t plan on it―ever―but on some days, he didn’t even try to keep up the ruse that we were happily married.
Stepping out of the car, I realized that I couldn’t take another day of this. We needed to make a slight amendment to our arrangement, and I needed to get the hell away from him.
I made my way to the master bedroom and spotted him getting out of the shower.
His eyes met mine, and he smiled as he wrapped a towel around his waist. “Welcome home, honey.”
