Camryn sidestepped me and went around the desk. He stood at his full height, a good half foot taller than she was, and she was damn tall with those graceful, thin legs. If I didn’t hate her so much, I’d kill to dress her. I watched as she threw her arms around his neck. He grabbed her by the shoulders and put distance between them, shooting me a quick look to make sure I knew he wanted no part of it. The damage was done. I walked to my desk and sat with my back facing them as I clicked the mouse and powered my computer to life.
“Ro,” she said, sweet valley girl voice. “Today’s our meeting with Alistair, remember? Father said I needed to come right away to talk about the . . . the contract.”
The contract. I bit my lip. The fucking marriage that one of them held as nothing more than a contract and the other was happier than a pig in shit to oblige by. Maybe I’d talk to him. Maybe I’d try to talk him out of the stupidity he was about to commit to. And then what? Suggest I marry him instead? A shiver shot through me. It would still only be a contract to him and I would give up everything, for what? Because I was holding on to some schoolgirl notion that I could make him love me? No thank you.
“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled. I continued clicking the document in the computer in front of me and picked up the phone, dialing Spain. They walked out wordlessly, and I pulled the curtain slightly to watch as they walked to Alistair’s office across the hall. Camryn was looking up at him, making a joke that clearly wasn’t amusing him at all. Then she reached and pinched his butt. He continued walking. That tiny gesture was the crutch of all of it. It wasn’t that he’d ever shown extreme interest in her, it was that he did absolutely nothing to stop her advances.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tessa
Past
I looked into the cup of punch in my hand and wished it were spiked. Corrigan was standing beside me going on and on about the branches of the military. Freddie deployed about a month ago, and since then, it has been all everyone wanted to talk about. It was as if no one understood why a guy who had everything going for him—money, looks, women—would choose to go and fight for his country rather than take the comfortable route. It was as if they’d all forgotten nine-eleven and how torn up we all were when it happened. It hadn’t even been two years, for God’s sake. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t worry sick over my brother’s safety, but I was prouder of him than anyone else in my family. I glanced up and watched as my parents spoke to Mildred. Mom had her hand on her chest, her eyes caked with anti-inflammatory cream and makeup to try to hide her distress, and Dad was nodding along to whatever was being said.
My brother’s deployment had added ten years to their state, and my Yale acceptance had added another ten. Funny how that worked. They’d pushed for me to go there, and I could have sworn that they wished they could take it all back, whether it was because I was the youngest and would be out of the house soon or because they realized how steep the tuition was, I wasn’t sure. They never outright said anything other than they were happy for me. Nevertheless, uneasiness rested in the things we didn’t say, and they weren’t saying anything at all. Ever. Not to me and not to each other. The only time they seemed to interact was when we were in social settings like these.
“So, yeah, if I joined any, it would be the Coast Guard,” Corrigan said. I shot him a look.
“You’re still talking about this?”
“You tuned me out, didn’t you?”
“Sorry. There’s only so much armed forces talk I can handle, especially with my brother flying jets over enemy territory.” I took a sip of my punch. “Maybe we should raid the alcohol cabinet.”
“Let’s go.”
We walked inside and went downstairs to the basement where Alistair kept the good stuff. Not that we knew what good stuff was. We always went for the vodka, rum, or tequila without a second glance at the label.
“So you and Ro are over,” Corrigan commented as he poured vodka into our punch glasses.
“Did we ever really begin?”
He looked up without fully turning his face toward me. “Don’t undermine me.”
“I’m not.” I took the glass he handed me and clinked it against his in a toast. “I just wouldn’t exactly call what we were doing a relationship or even a hook up. Maybe a casual messing around.”
I was lying through my teeth, and I was sure Corrigan knew it. There was nothing casual about Ro and me, especially right before he ended things. We’d been inseparable, just not important enough for him not to break up with me because he was leaving. I tried to contain the pang in my chest when I thought about it. His breakup had been methodical, simple and clean, the way skilled surgeons cut through skin. I’d been expecting it, so I’d handled it okay. I smiled up at Cor as we went upstairs.
“You’d call finally taking your relationship with quite arguably your best friend a casual hook up?” Cor said. I blinked up at him.
“What would you call it?”
“Love.”
“Love? Are you insane?” I spit some of my drink back into my cup because I didn’t want to spray the furniture.
“Right. I forgot you two have sworn off love.” He shook his head, eyes rolling. “You’re both full of shit.”
Maybe I was full of shit, but Rowan wasn’t. He genuinely didn’t believe in love and I didn’t want to be the girl who fell in love with the guy unwilling to reciprocate it. So yeah, maybe I was full of shit, but I was also doing the best I could to guard my own heart from it all, and with good reason.
“Because we don’t believe in love?”
“Because you don’t believe you’re in love.”
“We aren’t.”
“He asked you to go to Columbia for him.”
“Yet, I’m going to Yale.”
“Why is that?” We walked back outside and joined the party again. It wasn’t much of a party. There was no loud music or drunken people jumping in the pool, not like the real parties we’d had when there weren’t any parents around. As Rowan liked to say, it was an adult, classy party. My heart hurt a little when I thought about all the things he liked to say, and it hurt a little more when I thought of all the things he refused to say.
“Yale has always been my dream. If he really wanted to be with me, if he really wanted to . . . whatever, he would have gone to my first-choice school.”
“He got a scholarship.”
“An athletic scholarship,” I corrected. “He could’ve applied to Yale.”
“He did.”
“Oh. I wasn’t aware.” I deflated a little. Why had Rowan never told me that he’d applied?
“Bet you never asked.”
I hadn’t asked. I’d just assumed Rowan was trying to be Rowan and get his way by making me apply to his college of choice instead of him applying to mine. The realization made my heart sink a little. Would he have gone if he’d been accepted? Would I have switched knowing he’d at least tried? I shook the thoughts away. It was too late for the answers to matter.
“I’d never ask him to give up rowing for me. He shouldn’t ask me to give up Yale for him.”
We stood there in silence. Sam joined us shortly after.
“You spiked your drinks?” he asked, standing in front of us. Corrigan and I lifted our glasses and smiled. Sam shook his head. “Bastards.”
“You’re still set on the tech college?” Cor asked Sam.
“Dude, you ask me this every time you see me,” Sam said. “And you literally see me every fucking day.”
“Hey, someone needs to care,” Corrigan said. “Bet your parents don’t ask.”
Sam chuckled. “Damn straight.”
He went on to talk about his classes—again, not that I minded. He loved it, and it was as if something sparked to life inside him when he talked about the creative aspect of it all. I loved hearing it because I was going to Yale to study the same thing. The only difference was a mortgage-size loan. No biggie.
I broke away from the conversation to get myself an
hors d'oeuvre and almost turned right back around when I spotted a dark blue dress from the corner of my eye. I hoped Mildred wasn’t coming over to talk to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her. It was that we had virtually nothing in common. Mildred was rock hard in every possible way, cold, calculating and so unlike my mother, who was soft and emotional, maybe too emotional at times. To be honest, it was a wonder how Dad had put up with her for this long, but who was I to judge? I smelled Mildred’s staple Chanel perfume as she approached, and I lowered the small spinach quiche from my mouth before I took a bite.
“You look lovely today,” she commented.
“As do you.” I smiled. “Are you ready to have the house to yourself again? No more rampant rowers messing up your furniture.”
“I’m . . . conflicted about it,” she said. My brows shot up. She never, ever said things like that, but then, Rowan was her favorite, and unlike most mothers, Mildred unabashedly played favorites. We both tore our gazes away from each other’s at the same time, looking out to the party. I followed the loud laughter I heard, the one that made my heart skip a beat, and looked at Rowan, who was talking to Camryn.
“I wanted to thank you,” Mildred said beside me. I looked at her again. She was watching Rowan. “For not going to Columbia.”
“Oh?” My heart thundered. “I’m surprised you even know about that.”
“Oh, you know, I’ve heard the guys talking here and there.” She glanced at me, her eyes showing no sign of emotion. “You would have ruined his life. And your own.”
“How so?”
“You aren’t a good fit for Rowan, dear. You’re plain and childish and, quite frankly, I don’t understand what my son sees in you.” Her tone was so thick with feigned regret I was surprised she didn’t choke on it. “He belongs with that girl. Someone who will make him see the bigger picture. Who will explore the world with him and build the company up, not tear it down or settle for some cutesy little family.”
I felt myself clam up at her words. This woman had welcomed me into her house with open arms. She’d smiled at me and asked how I was doing. She’d pretended to care about my family and me. How could she say those things? I willed the tears to stop building in my eyes. I couldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing she’d gotten to me. I tried to remind myself of what a royal bitch she was to her own sons, but it wasn’t much help, the ache of her words was still there, sitting in my chest. Instead, I made myself look at Rowan and Camryn again. They’d never been a couple, but they’d always managed to look like one. Maybe it was their Greek god and goddess good looks, both tall and effortlessly classic. Something akin to jealousy wedged its way inside my chest. I found it increasingly difficult to breathe as I watched them, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Just the other day, we’d kissed. Just the other day, he’d looked at me as if I were his world. Just the other day, his fingers were inside me, my mouth was on him until he climaxed. Just the other day, he broke things off, saying a long distance “whatever this was” would never work. I’d agreed. He was right, of course. I’d been understanding and kissed him feverishly and then walked away, wondering if he wanted me to fight. But I didn’t want to fight or be fought for. Mildred walked away from me without another word. Whether it was because she saw that I couldn’t summon my own response or because she got bored, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care.
Sam and Cor joined me again.
“That was harsh,” Corrigan said.
“I am so sorry,” Sam added.
“Not your fault.” I shrugged, not having realized they were listening and also not willing to show just how much I was dying inside. “Perhaps she’s right, anyway.”
Neither one of them agreed or disagreed. It was the thing I hated about having male friends. Women would stand by you, they’d be mad with you, sad with you, stomp the ground for you, and curse the world for you. Men just stood there helplessly. It annoyed me. I set my glass down, threw away the quiche I no longer wanted, and said goodbye to them. I was halfway to the sidewalk when I heard someone running behind me and turned around. My heart spiked at the sight of Rowan in his slacks, button-down shirt, and tie. He ran a hand through his hair and stopped in front of me.
“I leave at six in the morning.”
“I know.” I swallowed.
“You aren’t gonna say goodbye?”
“We already said goodbye a few weeks ago, did we not?” I said. “Besides, you were busy with your girlfriend.”
A flash of something claimed his features—regret, panic? Just like inside, I refused to let the hurt rise to my features.
“She isn’t my girlfriend,” he said. Stupid, idiotic excuse.
“He belongs with that girl.”
Tears burned in my eyes. Hot, stupid, annoying tears. I blinked them away quickly.
“No one is,” I whispered. “You don’t bleed.”
His eyes flashed when I said this. He’d thought I’d forgotten. He thought that because we were high when he told me that whole bit about his father and the way he made him continuously repeat that mantra that I could ever forget it. But how could I? It was terrifying and sad and everything wrong with the world, and it was something he’d been taught since he was a kid.
“I don’t,” he confirmed.
“I know.”
He cupped my face, and for maybe the last time, he looked at me as if I were the world. Like I was the sun and he was locked in my orbit. He opened his mouth to say something and closed it again, came closer still, lowered his face to mine, and kissed me. It was a soft kiss filled with regret and goodbyes, and when I walked away from him that time, I felt my heart crack open a little. I told myself I didn’t bleed either. But I was wrong.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rowan
Present
For as long as I could remember, I’d hated my father, but I’d never hated him more than that very moment. I sat in his office with Camryn beside me and our lawyer beside her, listening to their points as to why she’d be perfect for the contractual wife role. They had good points, I’d give them that. The reason the meeting was taking longer than usual, was because I’d spent a full hour arguing the point. Camryn just stood there, stoic, letting me say awful things about her without a care in the world, showing me why she was truly cut out for this role. I fought it as much as I could.
I said that I would never in a million years marry a selfish, bratty, mean girl. Camryn laughed at the last bit, her green eyes sliding to mine with humor and absolutely no shame.
“You don’t have to be in love with me. Have you not been paying attention? This isn’t about love or selflessness.”
That shut me up. I sat there and listened the rest of the time. We were both incapable of loving people the way they wanted to be loved, and we knew that. I listened as the lawyer lectured her about the possibility of signing the marriage contract and what it entailed. She nodded and listened intently, asking questions every so often. How much money would she get at the end of all of it? What if she wanted to end the marriage? Could we add a no-children clause in the contract? Questions that made it clear she really was perfect for this role. She didn’t want involvement; she wanted money. She wanted to keep her independence, probably screw around with the Wall Street guy, and be able to travel while cashing her check for being married to me. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting a real marriage. I didn’t either.
“You have to be sure about this Camryn,” Dad said in his warm tone that held a hint of warning. “The idea is for you to be married forever, but if divorce is something you’re dead-set on from the start, I have to warn you that you won’t be able to get out of this for at least a few years.”
She put her hand on mine over my knee. What should have been a comforting gesture felt like claws sinking into my skin. I calmly took her hand, set it on the armrest, and leaned forward, taking a set of papers from my father’s desk.
“I’m okay with that,” she said with a casual shrug. “I mean, that’s all marria
ge is anyway, right? A contract.”
“For some people, it can be more than that.”
My eyes rose to meet my father’s. I glared. “Let’s stick to the contracts.”
“Very well.”
The lawyer continued to explain everything, and each word felt like another cement block dragging me deeper into a bottomless lake. Sweat broke out across my brow, down my spine, and I reached up and wiped my forehead. It wasn’t a good adrenaline, not like when I was about to start a rowing meet. This was . . . I wasn’t sure what this was. It was something I definitely hadn’t felt before. I was comfortable enough with Camryn. I’d known her since we were in diapers. Sure, when we were in public, she could sometimes be a little much with the displays of affection, but in private, she was just an insecure girl trying to navigate her way through life.
“If it’s okay, I’d like to have my lawyer look at these before I sign,” she said.
We all agreed. The lawyer put copies in a folder and gave them to her, explaining that it was also imperative she understood the clauses in the pre-nuptial and noted things she wanted added before we proceeded. She said her goodbyes, stood, and left. The lawyer followed. Then it was only my father and I sitting in a cold office.
“You’re sure about this,” Dad said.
“You haven’t given me much of a choice.”
“You have a choice in whom you marry,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be all business.”
“And that was why you brought Camryn in? Because I have a choice?” I asked dryly.
He sighed heavily. “That isn’t fair, Rowan. You want to be the head of the company. You want to make the big decisions and drive it forward. This is what needs to be done. Camryn is a good candidate because she knows what’s expected, and look, she wants a three- to four-year contract, which furthermore shows you that she’s only in this for the business aspect of it. Once it’s done, you can have a shot at something real. I hope you find that someday.”
Then There Was You: New York Times Best Selling Author Page 18