I don't know the asshole, and I already hate him.
My gaze goes to Blake. Damn. He's good at this. There isn't a single visible reaction on his face. The man is the picture of cool.
But then, he always is.
"I'll do anything for Kat. Anything." He runs his fingers over my cheek. Stares at me like we're in love. "But her independence is very important to her. She wants to make her own way."
"Admirable, but sweetie—" Meryl takes quite the sip of wine. "Take the poor fool's money if he's offering it."
"It will be our money soon." Blake smiles. "We set a date. The last Friday in April."
"You're not asking for a prenup?" Fiona tries to wipe away the shock on her face but doesn't quite land at a neutral expression.
Blake raises a brow. They share a look of understanding. It's pure sibling telepathy.
"I don't want to hear those words again," Meryl says. "And I do not want to hear a single figure."
Fiona frowns. "But Blake could lose the company if they divorce."
"What did I say?" Meryl squeezes her wineglass.
Fiona flushes red. She stumbles over her words. "I only want to help him protect himself."
"And how did that prenup work for you?" Meryl asks.
"That's different. He had more money," Fiona says.
"I am signing a prenup." I try my most confident voice. "It was my idea. I don't want Blake thinking I'm in this for his money. I may be young, but I'm not naive. I know marriage doesn't always work out. I'd rather we have these details ironed out now than later."
Meryl stares at me the way Blake does. She picks me apart, assessing the weight of every single word. "You're a fool, sweetie, but an admirable one."
I smooth my dress. "Thank you. I think."
She laughs. "It's a compliment." She looks to Blake and Fiona. "My kids, they don't get it. They think marriage is about protecting your assets. It's not. It's about finding a partner who will hold you up when you need that. It's about finding someone who you need by your side. Someone who will support you."
I swallow hard. Marriage should be all those things. It should be everything.
Right on cue, Trey walks into the room. "Fi-fi, sweetie, I have to go."
Meryl shoots Fiona a see look.
Fiona frowns. "Can't you stay for dinner?"
He leans in to plant a kiss on her check. "I wish I could, but this is an emergency." He looks to Meryl. "Meryl—"
"Don’t bother." She shakes her head. "This is the example I set for you. Hell, at least you're leaving."
Somehow, this doesn't hurt Trey.
He looks to Fiona and whispers something. She narrows her eyes and furrows her brow.
Trey stands and takes a step towards the door. "I'm sorry, Meryl. I'll see you next week."
Meryl clears her throat. "Have a safe drive."
Trey kisses Fiona goodbye and steps out of the room. Everyone is quiet until the door slams shut and a car outside turns on.
Fiona addresses Meryl. "He's trying to be supportive."
"He's an asshole."
"So was Dad."
Meryl lets out a heavy sigh. She stares at her wineglass like it holds all the secrets of the universe. "If you do this to Kat, I swear to God…" She looks at me. "Some family to marry into."
I swallow hard. "Blake is sweet."
Meryl makes eye contact with him but speaks to me. "This is what money gets you—the pursuit of more money."
"I'm not like Trey. And Kat isn't like Fiona," Blake says.
"Fuck you." Fiona folds her arms.
"Not everything is an insult," Blake says.
They exchange hostile looks. There's something knowing about it. Like there's no way for them to let anyone else in.
They seem to hate each other and love each other in equal measures.
Meryl's voice softens. She offers Fiona her hand. "You didn't know better, sweetie. You were just a kid."
Fiona pulls her hand into her lap. "I was nineteen."
"Exactly. You're better off without him," Meryl says.
"With nothing," Fiona says.
Meryl looks to Fiona. To Blake. Neither one of them is willing to challenge her. Something about her expression makes them stand down.
Meryl shakes her head. "What is with you two? Why is it always money? There's more to life than that."
Under the table, Blake squeezes my hand. He looks at me as if to ask are you okay?
I nod yes. I'm okay enough.
The room goes quiet. It makes the air heavy. I guess Blake and Fiona agree that everything is about money.
It's kind of sad.
I've never pitied rich people before. Not even for a second. Being broke sucks.
But it makes you appreciate what you have.
I have a best friend. Someone I love unconditionally, who is always going to be on my side.
I wouldn't trade my relationship with Lizzy for all of Blake and Fiona's money.
Fiona plays with her food. She looks to Blake and adopts her best sisterly voice. "Three and a half weeks is awfully fast."
Something passes between Meryl and Blake. Damn. This whole family has some kind of crazy telepathic power.
"We don't want to wait," Blake says.
Meryl looks at me as if to confirm. "Is that right?"
"It was my idea," I say. "I'm insistent about marrying under the cherry trees, and I don't want to wait another year."
Her expression softens. "I see."
"I'm very sentimental about them. It's always been a family tradition. Well, I don't want to bore you."
"And your family approves?" she asks.
"It's just me and my sister. My parents were in an accident a few years ago. They passed on." I press my lips together. I don't like thinking about it. It gets too many feelings whirring in my chest, and I don't have time to stop and feel them.
Or I didn't.
I guess I do now.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart," Meryl says.
"Thank you." I nod.
"You'll need help with the wedding," Meryl says. Her voice is packed with understanding. "How about I handle the reception? Just pick a color."
It's a sweet offer. "Pink."
Meryl smiles. "A girl after my own heart."
The kitchen timer rings. Meryl presses her hands into the table, but she struggles to stand.
Blake rushes to help her. She shakes her head like she can't stand the fuss.
"I'll get it," Blake says.
He motions to Fiona, another sibling secret. Whatever it is, it works. Fiona excuses herself and they put together dinner in the kitchen.
"Let them fuss," Meryl says. "Tell me, what do you like to do for fun?"
"Typical stuff. Movies, TV, hanging out with my sister."
"What about the stuff that isn't typical?"
I play with the hem of my dress. "I ran cross-country in high school, but I haven't kept up with it very well."
She looks at her glass wistfully. "Never cared much for running myself."
I nod. "Are you okay?"
"Fine. What about when you want to relax? After a run? You don't strike me as one of those girls who is mostly interested in parties and shopping. Though I did enjoy both in my day."
"I draw." I make my voice confident. I'm about to marry the woman's son. I need to seem like a strong, independent woman. Someone worthy of him. "I've been thinking about art school."
"Excellent. Art school. Yes, that would suit you. You'll have to stay in the dorms and drive Blake mad forcing him to visit."
"That would get him out of the office."
She smiles, but it's not the same as before. She doesn't quite have her strength.
Blake and Fiona finish setting the table. They bring in dinner on thick ceramic plates. It's homemade, a pot roast and side salads dressed with a dark vinaigrette.
"Thank you," I say to no one in particular.
I take Blake's lead when everyone starts eating.
Meryl picks at her salad. Fiona stares at her food like it bores her. I can't imagine she has much of an appetite after her husband's remarkable show of apathy.
She turns her attention to me. "Can I see the ring?"
"Oh. Sure." I place my hand over the table like I'm modeling the enormous rock. "It's beautiful."
"Tiffany?" Fiona asks.
Blake shoots her a shut up look.
"It looks expensive." She glances at her smaller but still impressive wedding ring.
"Don't be tacky," Meryl says.
"I'm admiring my future sister-in-law's jewelry." Fiona huffs. She squeezes her hands together like she's trying to stay calm. "Am I not allowed an interest in jewelry either?"
"What did I ever do to raise two children who care so much about status?" Meryl shakes her head. "What the hell are you going to do when I'm not here? You'll drown yourselves in your fucking money."
"Mom, that's not true," Fiona says.
Meryl pushes her plate aside. "Excuse me. I need some air."
Blake makes a move to follow her.
"Sit down. I'm fine. My only problem is the two of you. Finish your dinner, and clean up after yourselves. I know you both have people who do that for you at home." Her eyes turn down. The energy drains from her expression. "Have dessert and coffee without me."
"Mom." Fiona's voice breaks into a whine. "It's cold out."
"I grew up here. This is nothing. Please, let your poor mother have a chance to be alone." She grabs her coat off the rack and walks up the stairs.
For once, I can perfectly read the look on Blake's face. He's terrified.
Chapter Sixteen
Fiona excuses herself the second she's finished eating. She sulks on the balcony, speaking into her cell phone with hushed tones.
It's almost romantic, finishing dinner with Blake. He refills my drink as soon as I'm done. He offers me seconds of everything. He anticipates my needs before I even feel them.
When we're finished, he clears the table and returns with fresh drinks.
He really is a perfect gentleman.
A loving son.
Everything else might be bullshit. But I'm positive Blake adores his mother.
He slides his arm around my waist and pulls me into a tight hug.
His lips hover over my ear. "You're tense."
"I'm fine."
"Are you ever going to admit when you aren't okay?"
"Are you ever going to ask how I feel instead of telling me?"
His voice softens. "Are you alright, Kat?"
"No. I'm kind of tense. You might have noticed."
He lets out a tiny laugh. "You think I'm an asshole."
"If the asinine statements fit…"
"I'll work on asking."
"I'll believe it when it happens."
"Fair." He presses his lips to my neck. "I can get your mind off everything."
"I'm not sure what you're referring to, Mr. Sterling."
His voice drops to that demanding tone. "You are."
"Not at your mom's house."
He pulls back. Takes a long sip of his whiskey.
His eyes pass over me, slowly picking me apart, finding any hint of weakness.
Or maybe he's trying to figure out what I need.
Maybe that look is one of support rather than attack.
Maybe I'm reading him all wrong.
Blake offers his hand. "Come here."
I squeeze his fingers. They're warm. Comforting. I tell myself it's okay I find his touch this calming, but I'm not sure I believe it.
He leads me to the den. It's a cozy room with a TV, a couch, and a small table.
He motions sit then digs through the shelf and pulls out a box. Chess.
"I haven't played since grade school," I say.
"The rules are easy." He sits and arranges the pieces on the black-and-white board.
I sit across from him. "I haven't got a chance against you."
"I'll take a handicap."
"Is that right?" I ask.
"The simplest and most severe is removing the queen." He picks up the black queen and sets it on the table.
"Why is it the most severe?"
"The queen is the best piece on the board. It can move in any direction, any number of spaces."
"And to win I have to murder your king, right?"
A laugh. He's actually laughing. It's the best thing I've ever seen. It lights up those blue eyes.
God, those eyes are beautiful.
I clear my throat. So. Not. Going. There.
"What is so funny?" I ask.
"It's called checkmate. Or check."
"It's regicide, plain and simple, buddy. Don't sugarcoat it."
Blake smiles.
My knees go weak. His smile does things to me. It's incapacitating.
He explains all the movement rules, but I'm only barely paying attention. I'm too caught up in that smile.
It takes forever for me to get the rules. Bishops are on the diagonal, pawns go forward one, attack on the diagonal. Knights are some weird 2:1 angle and they jump. Rooks are horizontal and vertical. The queen can move in any direction, any number of spaces. And the utterly useless king can only move one space in any direction.
"That's bullshit," I say.
Another laugh. My heart races. My stomach flutters. The whole world feels warm and safe.
He's laughing at me. Teasing me. I'm like a kid in grade school again, desperate for the boy I like to pull my hair.
Well…
I do want that. But not here.
"Why is that?" His voice is light. Easy.
"The queen has all the power. She's a total badass. Why is this stupid game based around protecting a king who is hiding behind all his minions?"
"Think of him as a figurehead. And the queen as the one pulling strings behind the scenes."
"Yeah, I'll consider that." I look at the board. I'm white, the player who goes first. A pretty big advantage, apparently, but nothing compared to losing a queen. "Is that your attitude towards powerful women—you throw them away?"
He stares at me. His voice gets serious. Well, more serious. "I'm not going to throw you away."
"I'm not powerful."
"You are."
"You're right. I have a great power to deceive people. But you have that too."
He slides out of his seat and kneels in front of me. His fingertips graze my thigh, right under my dress. "You're capable of so much."
My heart does a backflip. "Like what?"
"You're captivating."
He slides his hand up my inner thigh. My eyes close instinctively. Want flutters through my body. I tug at my dress. My legs part. Captivating. I like the sound of that.
Blake leans closer. His lips connect with mine.
His tongue claims my mouth. His hand slides over my panties. Damn. I'm wet already.
I need him touching me. Even if this is the most inopportune place.
He kisses me harder. Presses his palm flat against me. He's so, so close to touching me properly.
"Jesus H. Christ!" Fiona shrieks.
Blake shifts back into his seat.
Fiona shakes her head. Wipes tears from her puffy eyes as she storms into the kitchen. She returns with a bottle of red wine. "You have an empty limo for that."
Blake leans in to whisper. "Are you okay alone for awhile?"
"Sure." It's sweet he wants to help his sister. Even if I'm not quite clear on their relationship.
He looks to her. "Grab another glass."
Fiona shoots him a really, in front of your arm candy? Look.
I push myself to my feet. "Will Meryl mind if I ask to join her on the balcony?" It's the perfect excuse to check on her. Ease the tightness in my chest a little.
"No. She likes you." Blake squeezes my hand. "But knock first."
Fiona sets the wineglass on the table. She looks like she's about to come apart at the seams. I know how that feels—I was walking around like that t
he year after the accident. It took a long time to feel anything close to okay.
I move to the stairs. They creak with every step. The hallway too.
I knock on the door in the corner. "Meryl. It's Kat. I'm looking to get some air, and Blake is preoccupied downstairs."
Footsteps, and the door opens. Meryl smiles. There's no strain on her face. No signs of her outburst.
She motions come in. I do. Her bedroom is clean but not freakishly so. Nothing like Blake's place.
I follow her onto the balcony.
It's cozy. We can see into the backyard. There are a few scrawny trees. And there are flowers just starting to bloom.
She leans against the wooden railing and looks up at the stars. "I hate to get didactic, dear, but take a look at these. You can never see them in the city."
She's right. The dark sky is dotted with them. I haven't seen this many stars since I was a kid. "It's beautiful."
"Yes. They make you think. They're like roses. They're too good as metaphors."
"True."
"You mind if I ask your age?"
"I'm twenty-one."
"A baby. Your whole life is ahead of you." Her sigh is wistful. "If you do marry Blake… you can't give up on your dreams. I know it's tempting, basking in luxury, spending all your time sunbathing in Cabo San Lucas, but that's not a fulfilling life."
My chest warms. This is the kind of talk mothers have with their daughters. Only I never got the chance. "I won't."
"I'm sorry about before. My kids mean well, but, quite frankly, they're idiots."
I laugh.
"Really. Fiona and that awful stockbroker. He's such an ass. Just like her father. Well, not quite. Thank God."
There's something about her voice.
Blake was casual about his father hitting him. Because it only happened once? Or because it happened all the time?
I stare back at Meryl, but it doesn't offer any insight. I have no idea what a battered wife looks like. Even if I did, Blake's father isn't around anymore. He died when Blake was a teenager. That was in his about me packet.
"Sweetheart, are you alright?" she asks.
"Oh. Just thinking."
She smiles. "I remember being young and in love. It's hard to concentrate."
"Yes." It is, but it's not the love. It's more the lust.
"Is art school what you want?" she asks.
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