by Kitty Thomas
I laugh again, for once glad the camera is trained on her, not me, because for fuck's sake, I think I might tear up here. “No,” I say as stoically as I can manage.
She opens the box, and then everything she's held in comes rolling out down her face as she cries. Real tears.
I get down on one knee. “Livia Fairchild, will you be my person?”
It's another cutesy line meant to tug on heartstrings at the reception when we unveil the premiere of this short Oscar-contending film.
She cries harder “Yes, I will be your person.” And in this moment I know she means this and wants every promise contained in that blue box. My mouth claims hers, and I put the ring on her finger. It glints brilliantly in the sun against her tanned skin. It's all so perfect.
12
Soren
New Year's Eve
Six months ago. New Year's Eve.
Livia is silent in the passenger side as we drive up the long driveway of my parents' hundred acre estate. She's been to my home, but she's never been to my parents' place. It is admittedly a little stuffy, over-the-top, maybe a bit pretentious, and I can tell she's extremely nervous about this meeting.
“I won't fit in here. Your parents will think I'm a gold digger.”
“Aren't you?”
She shoots me a nasty look. “I'm a hostage.”
In a few short months she'll learn the price of her smart mouth when she's tied down and begging, calling me Master. She has no idea what she's in for with us.
“And tell me, were you a hostage during all those months you voluntarily dated me? And Griffin? And Dayne?” Though admittedly Dayne has been in the grouping a much shorter length of time and by our invitation. But she still said yes to him.
Livia starts to cry, and I feel like the bastard I so clearly am. She flinches when I park the car in the circular drive and wipe her tears away with my thumb.
There's a sick part of me that wants her to always be a little on edge, a little afraid. I get off on it no matter how wrong that may be, but I don't truly want her to hate me. I'm still angry with her even though I know I have no right to be. She wasn't lying. She wasn't cheating. And without her, this relationship quad wouldn't be possible. I know my anger is irrational.
I'm more angry at myself than I am at her, angry that I allowed myself to care, that I became so attached to a woman who so obviously isn't equipped to handle all that I am, who probably doesn't have a kinky bone in her body, and yet I plan to subject her to every dark corner of my psyche, and Griffin's, and Dayne's, for the rest of her natural life.
I still don't know why I haven't let her in to my world. I think I was planning to, but when I learned Griffin was dating her, I had this need to claim her in a permanent way—it was this panicked feeling in my chest. And I had the need to share her in a permanent way. Griffin is probably a better match for her as the public face of the marriage. But I don't care. I want her to have my last name and be seen in public as mine. I want all the power, and I want her to know I'm the one who has it.
Griffin wouldn't have had to run interference with her father. He's squeaky clean on paper. But her father was easy enough to manage. I downplayed what he heard, claimed I'd grown a lot since that time, gave a long heartfelt speech about how much I loved his daughter, and then dropped some truth on him about his source—Colin—and just how nasty a piece of work he is, and how nothing out of his mouth should be trusted.
I was smooth, I was calm even in the face of his yelling, and he bought every word because he wanted to buy it. As hostile and gruff as he was, he wants the fairy tale for his daughter. He wants her to be taken care of, loved, provided for, protected, spoiled. And I can do all of those things for Livia.
I sigh and soften my tone. “They'll love you. And they won't question my decision like your father. They're just glad I'm finally settling down.”
She nods, her lip trembling. I want to hold her right now, but a bigger part of me is unwilling to let her see any weakness. I don't want her to think she can control me with her tears.
I get out of the car and go around to open her door and help her out. She's wearing an elegant black evening gown, adorned in diamonds at her throat, wrist, and ears to go with the rock on her finger. She looks like a princess. I made sure of it. I took her shopping two days after Christmas to make sure she would fit in to my world. And unlike Livia, I called ahead. My parents have known I'm bringing my future bride to the New Year's Eve party since I called them on Christmas day.
I ring the doorbell, expecting Gregor, their butler, to answer the door. But I'm relieved when it's my mother instead.
“Darling!” she says, pulling me into a hug and kissing both sides of my face like I'm a war veteran that just returned from the front lines.
“Mom,” I say, trying to extricate myself from her grasp.
Then she turns to Livia. “Oh. My. God. She is just lovely, Soren. You two are going to make the most beautiful babies!”
“Mother!” I say. Though she is right. None of the rest of the world's babies will have a shot in hell against our genetic miracles.
She ignores me and takes Livia by the hand, leading her in to the party. There are too many people for a true sit-down dinner, but there's a nice buffet set-up and tables in the ballroom where they'll do the balloon drop at midnight. There are also some tables outside on the terrace surrounded by giant space heaters.
My mother offered to host the wedding reception here, but even I don't want to spend my wedding night with Livia and two other men under my parents' roof, no matter how large that roof is.
I'm an only child of an only child on my father's side. The only big family is my mom's, but they live five states away, so Livia only has to meet my mother and father tonight. She should be grateful. Dayne is one of five siblings and Griff is one of three. I am by far the shortest gauntlet to run family-wise.
Everyone at the party tonight are friends and business associates, and no one has any strong opinions one way or the other about who I marry.
I trail the two women and hear my mother say, “Oh I'm sorry dear, I'm Lillian.” Then she taps my father on the shoulder. “And this is my husband, Stefan.”
My father turns from a group of business colleagues, his face lighting up when he sees Livia. He gives me a look that conveys the facial expression version of a thumbs up then turns back to her.
“So this is the bride,” my father says. “Have you two set a date yet?” he asks Livia.
“June twenty-second,” she says.
“That's a whirlwind. I know how you women get planning weddings. It may just be your full time job.”
“She's got a full time job,” I say.
“Oh?” my father says. He's got that look on his face as though he's wondering if I'm going to allow her to continue working after the wedding. If she wants to, she can. I would prefer her go to part time, but if she loves her work I'm not willing to become a bigger villain over it.
“And what do you do?” he asks finally when no information is volunteered.
“I'm a veterinary assistant. Our office works mostly with abused rescues.”
His face softens at this. He's got a huge soft spot for animals. “That's very fine work to do,” he comments, and Livia beams.
Polite conversation is exchanged with my parents for a few more minutes, and then I announce, “We're going to go find Griffin and Dayne.”
Livia is caught off guard by this. I guess I failed to tell her they were invited. It won't seem strange to my parents though. They know Griff and Dayne have been my best friends since college and that of course they're in the wedding. The guys have also been present at every New Year's Eve party since college.
I pull Livia away from my parents and toward the buffet. “See? It wasn't bad. That's it. The whole confrontation. Nobody thought you were a gold digger. Nobody asked to see your bank balance. You weren't required to know which fork goes with what or to know which designer bags are fashionable this season.
”
Despite my parents' lifestyle, they've always been graced with good manners and treat guests graciously, never drawing attention to differences in socio-economic status, which I've always thought makes them far classier than those who try to use etiquette as a weapon against the Emily Post neophyte.
Livia is too relieved by the non-event meeting my parents was to be irritated by my teasing. We get some food off the buffet and take it outside where it's surprisingly warm in spite of the falling snow. Dayne and Griffin wave us over to a table they've claimed in a far corner right next to one of the heaters. They've got a seat saved for her between them closest to the heat source.
She looks at me uncertainly. “Won't it look weird if I sit between them?” she whispers.
I shrug. “Probably not. Not if you don't make it weird.”
She sits. Except for the Miami trip, this is the first time the four of us have been alone together since the night we all confronted her a few weeks ago at Capri Bella, and it is as uncomfortable as you might expect. Just like that first night, we eat in complete silence. Prison cafeterias are more joyful than this.
I know she's uncomfortable. She does well enough when she's out with just one of us, but she's clearly still unnerved by the idea of all of us together. And no matter what it may say about me, I like that. In fact, I don't want all of us together at one time again until it's time for the pre-nup, and then the wedding. I don't want her to get too comfortable before that night.
Now that it's been decided that none of us are fucking her until the wedding night, I'm determined to do everything in my power to keep her off balance until it's time to consummate our union. I want to bask in all this delicious nervous energy, this timidity that I've never had the pleasure of experiencing in quite such a potent emotional cocktail.
I've never been the type consumed with virginity nor the type to fantasize about it. I'm not that into purity in a woman. And I know she's been with other men, but it's been long enough that it changes the feel of everything. I want to savor every moment of it. I want to initiate her into my darkness without her having too many glimpses of the light.
After we eat, I pull her up out of her chair and guide her to the dance floor on the terrace. We slow dance together with the snow falling down on us. I watch her watch the table with Griffin and Dayne.
I lean close to her ear. “You can dance with them both at the reception, but not now. Your face gives too much away.”
She nods and leans her head against my shoulder.
We're all exhausted by the time midnight gets here, but we dutifully participate in the champagne toast in the ballroom. My father announces our engagement a minute and a half before midnight, which is met with murmurs of approval and applause.
I kiss her a second after midnight as the balloons come down—a sweet, polite public-friendly kiss.
My mother finds her way over to us and kisses me on the cheek and gives Livia a hug and wishes us a happy new year.
When she pulls away, she says, “You two really shouldn't be driving such a long distance this late at night. There will be crazy drunk people on the road. Stay. You know we have plenty of rooms and you two can stay on the complete opposite end of the house from your father and I with plenty of privacy.”
I've had a few drinks and probably shouldn't be driving, and Livia looks like she might not make it under her own steam to the car.
“Thanks, mom,” I say, even as I know she planned this. I get my calculating nature from her, though hers comes from a kinder place than mine.
She turns to Griffin and Dayne. “You guys should stay, too. I'll worry about you. We need to make sure the best man and groomsman stay safe. By the way, which of you is going to be the best man?”
They both shrug. “Hell if we know,” Griff says. “Maybe we'll flip a coin for it.” But Griffin knows he's the best man. We're going in order of meeting Livia. Groom, best man, and groomsman.
“So you'll stay?” my mom pushes. “Plenty of rooms.”
Griffin and Dayne both get evil glints in their eyes which I hope my mother is too tired to notice.
“Sure,” they both say.
My mother, of course, assumes Livia and I are sleeping together, so she puts us both in the largest guest suite with Dayne and Griffin in rooms a respectable distance down the hall.
As soon as she's gone back to the other end of the house, Dayne and Griffin come into our bedroom.
“No way,” Griffin says. “You're not sleeping with her if we can't.”
“I'm not sleeping with her,” I say.
Livia is too tired to be distressed by this whole thing and has already flopped back on the bed.
“You don't get to share a bed with her, either,” Dayne says.
I point to the large plush sofa against the far wall. “I'm sleeping there,” I say.
“Fuck that. She's getting her own room and we'll share down the hall to make sure nobody decides they're sneaking in here. Livia, lock the door behind us,” Griffin says.
But she's asleep.
“I'm not into necrophilia,” I say. “Look at her. She's not waking up until morning.”
“I let you be the public husband,” Griffin says like he plans to hold this over my head for the rest of our lives.
“Let me? I saw her first. I was dating her first.”
“You were a shit head to her. She was crying over you when I met her!”
I look up to find Dayne undressing Livia.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” I growl.
“Chill, Soren. She can't sleep in this. You assholes keep arguing while I put her to bed.”
Livia groans in her sleep but doesn't protest as Dayne slips off her shoes and gets her out of the dress. He takes her jewelry off and puts it on the nightstand, then tucks her into the bed.
I turn back to Griffin. “I can't sleep down the hall in your room. What would my parents think of that?”
“Your parents aren't coming to this wing, period. They think you're fucking your bride-to-be silly morning, noon, and night. They won't risk it.”
I take one more look at the sound asleep Livia and follow Griffin and Dayne down the hall to their room, grateful at least it's another suite with a very large bed.
13
Livia
The First Day of the Year I’m Getting Married
A little less than 6 months ago. New Year's Day.
I wake in a giant bed in a strange room with sunlight pouring in through the huge windows. This isn't Soren's house. Are we still at his parents'? It must be close to ten a.m. by now. My head is pounding. I drank too much last night. I wasn't sloppy drunk or anything, but I had a few too many glasses of champagne, and my head is not happy with that choice this morning.
I glance to the nightstand looking for a clock, but instead I find two aspirin with a note that says “Eat Me”, and a glass of water with a note that says “Drink Me”. I roll my eyes at the Alice in Wonderland reference but take the aspirin anyway.
That's when I realize I'm in my underwear and I don't remember undressing myself. In fact, I don't remember much of anything at all past midnight. Did Soren and I sleep together? I'm horrified by the idea that we might have. But I'm sure I'd be sore if that were the case since it's been so long.
Lying across the foot of the bed is a pair of dark grey lounge pants and a pale pink sweatshirt and a pair of thick fuzzy white socks. I put the clothes on, grateful to have something reasonable to wear and even more grateful that me and Soren's mom are about the same size. Putting the dress back on for breakfast would have been embarrassing.
Where is Soren? I wander down the hallway. This house is far bigger than it looked even from the outside, and there's a never ending labrynth of hallways on this floor. I finally find the staircase and go down to the main level. I can hear voices and laughter coming from close by. I follow the sounds into a large, bright airy kitchen that's done in cream and a sunny pale yellow, with just a touch of spring gre
en.
It's big but feels the most like a real home of any room I've been in so far. Everyone looks up from the table.
“Sleeping Beauty finally joins us,” Soren's father says.
I blush at this and sit in the chair between Dayne and Soren.
“Did you take the aspirin I left for you?” Soren asks.
“Yes, thank you.”
He nods.
“Don't worry, I was about to come up and get you,” Lillian says. “The food is all on the island behind you, and it's still hot. Help yourself.”
I have the feeling Soren's mom had planned from the beginning for us to stay overnight. I find it hard to believe there would be this much food prepared and this much variety otherwise. I doubt this is normal breakfast fare for a woman so fit.
There are cinnamon rolls and pancakes and fruit and biscuits and sausage gravy and eggs and bacon with coffee, orange juice, cranberry juice, and milk as beverage choices.
I get a bit of everything and some black coffee and sit back down at the table. Everyone else has almost finished breakfast. Soren's father is reading the morning paper—like an actual paper—and Lillian is talking wedding stuff with Soren and Griffin.
I jump when I feel a hand stroke over my knee. It's Dayne.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he says, his voice so low they can't hear.
I give him a murderous look. He can't just touch my knee under the table while we're having breakfast with Soren and his parents. They'll think we're having an affair. What is wrong with him?
“Did you sleep well?” he asks, ignoring my near panic.
“Fine,” I say.
Dayne leans down to whisper in my ear. “I liked that pink underwear I found under your dress last night.”
I'm sure I'm blushing as I pull away and turn back to my breakfast.
