by H. M. Ward
“He’s my dad, Pete. He and I may not be in a good place right now, but there was a time not too long ago when he would have done anything for me. I can't forget the things he's said or done recently, but I can most definitely forgive, given enough time.
"Right now, he’s pissed and rightfully so. I deceived him. I lied to his face and used his private property for something illegal. He's furious and I deserve every bit of his anger. While he may have gone a tad menopausal in there, he’s still my father. I can’t turn my back on that. Besides, he's not the only person my decision affects. My mother doesn’t deserve this shame, either. I’d do anything for her. Even if it means--”
"Even if it means marrying me and spending the rest of your life miserable?”
“What can I say?" I shrug. "No woman aspires to land a cheating husband who spends his time beating people to a bloody pulp. Well, at least not the sane ones.” I smile at him and bump our shoulders together.
Pete lets out a rush of breath and tilts his head toward the ceiling. He looks so tired, drained of his usual spark.
“Hey. Marrying you isn't all that bad. It's way better than serving a jail sentence with a toothless tattooed dominatrix as my cellmate. You're way cuter to look at, too; she’s butt-ugly.” He smiles a little, but it fades too fast, so I keep going. “We’re talking massive chin hair. She can't pluck 'em either 'cuz tweezers aren’t allowed in our cell. And I'm pretty sure the 'I Heart Ponies' tattoo across her chest doesn't refer to her love of equestrian sports.”
I shudder exaggeratedly.
Pete lets out a laugh and shakes his head.
“I heart ponies? Your argument for marriage is that I’m better looking than your imaginary cellmate? Um, thanks... I guess.” He looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Most women want to marry me for my money, or my looks, or my, well, um." Pete scratches his head and looks down, sheepish. "Well, let's just say that the arguments in my favor are many, but that one never came up once.” Pete shakes his head again, unable to believe what I just said. “Toothless?”
I nod, smiling.
“Uh-huh and she wears a strap-on, too. Huge one. So, yeah, I’m not going anywhere near her prison cell.”
I wiggle my butt on the floor to make my point. Toothless’ strap-on isn't going anywhere near me.
Seeing him smile a lopsided smile, albeit a strained one, helps loosen the vice around my chest. Maybe this whole situation will be tolerable after all. We just have to manage to act civil around each other instead of wanting to rip each other’s heads off all the time. Seeing the turmoil in his eyes makes my heart mourn the idea of the man I thought he was. I refuse to become a cold-hearted bitch, but I can’t be the naïve love-struck little girl waiting for Prince Charming to come save me, either. That’s not my fate.
Before I get too wrapped up in my foolish feelings, I slap my hands on my thighs.
“Well, this is just dandy, but I'm ready to know what kind of life I’m going to be living for the next forever.” I push myself up and stand. Glancing over my shoulder, I look down at Pete, who's still sitting on the ground. “I’ll give you a moment to make your decision.”
I walk past him, heading for the office. Pete puts a hand on one of my ankles, stopping me, still looking at the floor.
“You’re really willing to sacrifice your happiness and your future for the sake of your family?”
I nod and reply, “In a heartbeat.”
Pete looks up, his eyes questioning.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what you do when you love someone that much. You stand by them and try to protect them—come hell or high water—or both. Why else?”
I open the door to the office and sit next to my mother, taking her hand in mine. My fate is now in Pete’s hands.
AND THEY LIVED MISERABLY EVER AFTER
August 17th, 3:45pm
After what feels like hours, Pete finally comes back into the room, takes the seat next to his mother and whispers something in her ear.
They begin a quietly heated conversation and, try as I may, I can’t hear a single thing.
Can this be more dramatic? My heart is thumping like a flat tire. I swear to God, my ribs are going to explode. I kind of hope a bone shard hits Connie in the face.
Why is Pete fighting with her? What’s he saying? It’s clear that he’s trying to sway her, but sway her to what? There’s no way that woman will leave this room without us agreeing to this wedding, so what could Pete stand to gain from protesting like this?
Pete doesn’t look at me. Instead, he presses his lips together and shakes his head. His arms fold over his chest as his eyes narrow to slits. He’s said something and is waiting for his mother to reply.
Finally, Mrs. Ferro straightens in her chair and turns to address us, legs crossed and fingers laced together, wrapping around her knee.
“Very well, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Either way, I’m glad we've settled this peacefully. I do abhor unnecessary conflict.”
No one believes that. Mrs. Ferro loves fighting. Actually, she loves verbally castrating her opponent.
“I have agreement papers you'll need to sign today and a timeline both of you will respect from now until your wedding. After the wedding, we will follow an already drafted prenuptial agreement.”
I want to slump in my chair with relief, but I don’t move. I keep my hands in my lap and a polite smile on my face. I’m not going to jail and we keep Granz Textiles in the family tree.
Mrs. Ferro pulls additional documents from her briefcase and drones on about the trivial details of our agreement.
I’m only barely aware of what she says, struggling to come to grips with the abrupt turn my life has taken. I keep looking around for hidden cameras, wondering if I’m on some prank reality TV show or soap opera. Observing the lack of half-naked people making out in a hot tub, I decide this can't be reality TV.
Among her jabber, Constance specifies that her nephew Logan will replace Anthony as the head medical advisor for the medical grade fabrics project. My father objects loudly, but Mrs. Ferro smoothly handles his protests, which doesn’t sit well with him at all. Not only has he lost his company, his golden boy, and control of his pet project, but I've also turned him into a puppet for Constance Ferro.
Craptastic.
Pete quietly stares out the window, completely detached. I guess we’re both in shock. My stomach flips unpleasantly every time Constance refers to our firstborn child and the details of his or her inheritance of Granz Textiles.
I don’t want to have a child with Pete. No baby of mine will ever be a Ferro. While I desperately want to keep the company my ancestors founded within the Granz lineage, having a baby with Pete means having sex with him. I’m not sure I can do that.
His touch toys with my emotions and in light of what came out today, I don't want his hands--or any of his other parts, for that matter--anywhere near me. Pete may not associate sex with emotion, but I do. I can't touch Pete and keep my heart intact.
If I let him get close to me, I'll fall for the illusion, then I’ll break when he goes back to his mistresses. To succeed in our paper relationship, I’ll need to close my heart off completely. If Constance Ferro can do it, so can I. I am certain she has no feelings for her husband. How else could she watch him shamelessly conquer woman after woman?
My mother gently nudges my elbow, freeing me from my thoughts. Constance hands us our contracts, and I thumb through my copy while she explains the documents.
“This is the schedule for Regina and Peter’s relationship. They will be the most discussed couple in the media, all eyes will be on them at all times. We need to create a mystery around the two new lovebirds, a story everyone will be vying to hear.”
“How?” My father blurts out skeptically.
"Simple. People want to believe in fairytales, so we'll give them one. Peter and Regina will convince the general populace that they are madly in love with each other. Every viewer, re
ader, and society blogger will want to be all over it. All their dates will be public, and their smiling faces will be everywhere. The media is already well aware of Peter’s charm. If we focus it on your daughter, it will look like the little cinder girl was plucked from the ashes.”
“Gag me,” I say rolling my eyes.
Pete leans in and whispers in my ear, “Later, dear.”
I elbow him and notice the corner of his mouth turn up; he almost laughs but tries to hide it.
“Ass.”
“It is fine, isn’t it?” He speaks too loudly that time. Constance looks at him like he’s grown another limb.
"Well, at least it won’t take much to make it believable.” She studies me from under those well-manicured brows, before addressing everyone again. “We'll transform the previously planned engagement party for the little doctor into your social introduction as a budding new couple. The official purpose of the event will be to make a public announcement of the merging of Granz Textiles into Ferro Corp. Regina, you will be devastated your boyfriend broke off your engagement and Peter, you’ll step in to console her.”
“Will he be consoling anything else at the same time?”
“Anything?" Pete's jaw drops. "Thing? Are you inferring that I do livestock?” I’m about to give a wiseass response when I’m cut off.
“Enough, you two! This is not a game," Constance snaps. "If you want this merger to save your families you will take it seriously, and you—“ she glares at Pete, “have to keep it in your pants. No stray females of any kind.”
I try not to laugh, instead smiling and nodding. When Constance looks away, I speak softly without moving my lips.
“Your mom thinks you have a problem.”
“I do. She’s standing right next to me.”
“Just for the record, I hate you.”
My eyes shift to the side and I see Pete standing there, rigidly accepting his mother’s direction.
“The feeling is mutual,” he replies a moment later.
Suddenly the humor is sucked from the room. Pete and I stand in front of our parents like small children being scolded for doing something stupid. I pretend to study my nails while considering running away to Mexico. I can’t speak Spanish very well, and odds are Connie owns some drug lords. They’d probably ship me back to my parents in three separate boxes and make them pay an import tax.
Constance goes on and on, describing our lives, and what’s to come. She doesn’t stop. Every detail is deviously planned.
Pete and I will have four months of courtship, during which we will show everyone how Pete saved me from a broken heart and how I saved him from his reckless ways. We’ll be acting out our fake feelings in front of cameras, making them believe we are madly in love. Our charade will lead into a very romantic and very public New Year’s Eve engagement and culminate in a grand, early summer wedding, an event that will command the cover of every wedding magazine. All this in the pursuit of salvaging the Ferro family image from its current state of disgrace.
I stare at the papers in my hands as if they’re acid, burning the skin off of my fingers. I’m holding a relationship evolution timetable, love on a spreadsheet.
I think to myself: And they both lived miserably ever after.
GET OUT!
August 17th, 4:30pm
The instant the last documents are signed, Pete takes off without saying a word. He doesn't look my way, not even once.
For a moment, I thought that he liked me. It sounds so middle school, but sometimes I catch Pete looking at me as if he wanted something more. Then he goes and acts like a caveman. When his temper is out of check, it’s scary.
Why would I even want someone like him? I don’t. Which brings me to my next problem: How the hell are we supposed to pull this off? It’s obvious we can’t stand each other.
Pete’s horrible mother is still talking to my mother. She lingers long after Pete exits. There’s no compassion in her voice, and it’s clear her motives are to save face and keep the Ferro name from being dragged through the mud again. It’s as if she disowned her eldest son completely. No wonder the guys in this family are so screwed up—this woman is their mother!
I watch from an armchair in the corner of the room, my head resting on my hand. I've maintained this pose long enough to have pins and needles shooting up my arm, but I’m not moving. I keep my gaze locked on Constance Ferro, directing a million laser beams at her with my eyes. I wish I had a voodoo doll. I wonder if they sell those on Amazon. Surely, I'm not the first to have the thought. I smirk, imagining an object so riddled with sharp pointies, there's not space to stick another pin. Maybe that’s why the woman acts like she’s got a stick up her ass all the time.
Constance Ferro collects her papers calmly, acting as if this were any other day. She neatly tucks them away, smiles at my father and then turns to me.
“I’ll be in touch with you this week, Miss Granz.”
She reaches out for my hand and I stand to take it. We’re nose to nose for half a beat. My gaze narrows and I spit out the words, squeezing her hand harder as I do so.
“The warehouse might be on me, but your son’s behavior is your fault. He’s in freefall and there’s nothing you can do to keep him from hitting the bottom. He’s in burn mode, too far gone to save.”
Constance's lips twist into a creepy smile. She returns my handshake and yanks my arm so her lips are a breath away from my ear.
“That’s where our opinions differ; I do see someone who can stop Peter before he hits bottom.” She drops my hand and steps back, before letting her gaze rake over my body once. When her eyes settle back on my face, she adds, “Although I can’t fathom why.”
My jaw drops. Her assessment of me feels like I’ve been bitch-slapped by a bear. My instinct is to fight back, but I don’t.
“You’re wrong. It’s not like that.” She grins at me and shakes her head. “His blood will be on your hands, Constance, not mine. No one can stop him. Pete is going to self-destruct.”
She pats my cheek like I’m a foolish child.
“We’ll see, dear.”
Connie looks at my father and nods once. I think my dad is going to give her the bird, but he grunt-nods in return. The woman walks out of the room and cold silence takes her place.
I want to scream. The people who raised me, who love me most, did nothing to fight for me. Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away. It’s my fault they turned on me, but I was confident there was nothing I could do that would decimate their love. Apparently, that’s not so. Destroying the family business was the last straw. They aren’t even upset that their precious princess caused someone’s death.
They aren’t who I thought they were.
I stare at my parents, alone for the first time since the truth has come out. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I start talking, I just start.
“Daddy, I—”
“DON’T!” He yells, raising a hand in front of him, silencing me. In all the time I’ve known him, Daddy has never been so mad. His face is red and the vein on the side of his head is throbbing. He jabs a finger toward the door.
“Don’t you dare talk to me. We have nothing more to say to one another. You’ve destroyed everything this family has built in one reckless act. How thoughtless are you, Regina? How selfish and cruel? Is this what you wanted? You destroyed this family.”
It’s like he pulled a pin from a grenade. My mother interrupts him, an unprecedented action.
“Reginald—”
He stands and shoots a horrible look at my mother. She shivers and then looks to me, horror in her eyes. Daddy turns his back on me.
“Go. Leave. Walk your sorry ass upstairs and pack your bags. I may not be able to disown you, but there is no way you are living under my roof. Get out and don’t come back. Do not come to work. I’m finished with you.”
Dad turns around and storms off toward his office, the loud sounds of his anger echoing behind him.
I feel like I’
ve been gutted by the man I trust most. I knew he’d be mad, but I thought he’d forgive me eventually. What happened to all that unconditional love he promised? It’s gone, obliterated in a matter of seconds. My eyes prickle, and I swallow the lump suddenly lodged in my throat.
No doubt he’ll drown his anger in a bottle of scotch. I want to talk to him and make him feel better, but there’s no reasoning with him when he’s this angry. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this irate before.
The thought of being tossed out on my ass feels like a bullet to the stomach. The thought of packing up and never coming back has me ready to hurl. At the same time, I know that I need to leave—for my sanity and Dad’s. If I stay here, the atmosphere will become more toxic. My parents don’t discuss things like this. They let sleeping dogs lie until the thing turns into a ravenous beast, and by then it’ll be too late. I can’t stay here and watch the people I love turn against me even more than they’ve already done.
While my father has been totally clear on the subject of his idiot daughter, my mother’s silence has me worried. I don’t want to be the wedge between her and Dad. If I go now, I might have a chance to mend things with Mom later. Thank God for hope.
Mom breaks her silence and calls out to Daddy as he stomps down the hallway.
“Reginald, please, she’s our daughter!”
She starts to go after him, but I stop her, putting a hand on her arm and pulling her back.
“Please.”
The single word stills her and she looks at me with glassy eyes.
“Mom, I don’t want to make this harder than it already is—you don't have to choose sides. This is between me and Dad.”
My mother’s tear-filled eyes regard me with anguish.
“I can talk to him Gina, darling. Give me a chance to calm him down. Then you can stay here while we figure this out.”
