The Contract

by Melanie Moreland

  Stunned, I could only nod.

  It was probably as toned-down as the Gavins could handle. The back deck was set up with an extravagant table, with tulle and small lights wrapped around the area, flowers and candles flickering in the light breeze. In the corner, there was another small table with a wedding cake. Katharine’s eyes were huge when she looked at me. “How did they do this in a day?”

  “The benefit of money and connections,” I muttered. I had to admit, I was impressed.

  Our hosts beamed at us when we arrived, Laura wrapping Katharine up in a tight hug. Graham clapped me on the shoulder, congratulating me, and I suffered through the hugs and handshakes from the rest of the family. They were certainly a touchy bunch. I stepped back, grabbing Katharine’s hand like a talisman. Maybe if I touched her, they’d all stop hugging me.

  Dinner was extravagant, the champagne was plentiful, but this time, I kept my head. I only sipped at the wine, and consumed water most of the evening. There might not have been any pictures at the ceremony, but Jenna and Laura made up for it with their phones, constantly snapping pictures and calling out for kisses. Luckily, Katharine had drunk enough this time, she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she tilted up her face eagerly, smiling and accepting my caresses. Copying the other couples at the table, I kept my arm around her most of the time, running my fingers over her exposed skin. On occasion, I would turn and drop a kiss to the softness of her shoulder or neck and whisper some inane comment into her ear, making her smile or laugh. We were the picture of a happy couple in love.

  Jenna turned to her at one point. “Oh, Katy! I almost forgot. I teach yoga classes and a new one starts next week! Please come! You’ll love it.”

  Julia nodded. “Adam looks after the kids. I go to all the classes—even the beginners—I love it so much. Jenna is an amazing teacher.”

  Katharine’s eyes flared with interest. “Oh, I’d like that! I’ve always wanted to try it. When?”

  “Tuesday nights—it’s an eight week course for beginners. There’s a break, then we move onto the next level.”

  The light in her eyes dimmed. “I can’t—Tuesday is music night at the home. Local groups come in and entertain the residents. I take Penny to all of them; she loves going. I would hate not to be with her; she might not go without me.”

  I had noticed the list on Penny’s bulletin board while I was there. This week was jazz night. I loved jazz music. The fact going to yoga was something Katharine wanted, made me want to give it to her, so I spoke up. “I’ll go with her.”

  “What?”

  “You go to the class. You’ve been saying you wanted to try yoga. I’ll go have dinner with Penny and take her to the lounge.” I nudged her carefully. “You know I love jazz music.” I winked, teasing her. “Maybe it will help you with your balance.”

  “It’s great for that!” Jenna enthused.

  “It’s every Tuesday,” Katharine pointed out.

  “That’s fine.” I liked all types of music, except heavy metal, and I doubted that genre would be included in the lineups. “I guess Penny and I have a date every Tuesday for a while.”

  She leaned closer, and whispered, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I murmured back. “I’d like to spend some more time with Penny.” I met her eyes. “Honestly.”

  She kissed my cheek. “Thank you,” she breathed in my ear.

  Turning, I caught her mouth. “You’re welcome.”

  I sat back with a sigh. I was pleased I could do something for her. I saw Graham looking at me, nodding his approval. I looked down, almost flustered over his silent support.

  What an odd, emotional day.

  After dinner, Laura had us move the table off to one side, freeing up the space, insisting we needed to dance. Grateful we had practiced, I held out my hand, grinning at Katharine.

  “Ready to dance with your husband?”

  Her smile was shy, but real, as she slipped her hand into mine. “I am, my darling. Just don’t use all your energy on the dance floor.”

  I winked. “Don’t worry about that, sweetheart.”

  I twirled her onto the dance floor amid the laughter. She nestled into me as we moved to the music. Once again, it struck me how well she fit to me—the way her head was the perfect height to tuck under my chin. I could smell her soft scent, and enjoyed the silk of her hair on my skin. I beamed as we spun around, our steps in sync.

  I had chosen the perfect fake wife.

  There were more hugs, well wishes, and catcalls when we left. We were both quiet in the car. I kept glancing over at Katharine.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Is your head okay?”

  Leaning against the headrest, she nodded. “I’m fine. It was a nice day.”

  “Okay for a shotgun wedding to an asshole?”

  “Ranks right up in my top ten.”

  I chuckled. Her humorous side came out more every day. I liked it.

  “How much older is Adam than Jenna?”

  “Ten years, I think. She told me she was a bit of a surprise.”

  “The baby of the family.”

  “The spitfire, I think. Adam is far more sedate.”

  “Like Graham,” she mused. “I like them all. They’re a wonderful group.”

  “They like you.”

  “I’m trying not to feel guilty,” she admitted. “They are being so kind.”

  “No one is going to get hurt here, Katharine. I’m going to do my best for Graham. He’ll get someone as committed as any of his family is to making sure his company thrives.”

  “Still, after . . .”

  “Let’s worry about that later. It’s months away—longer. Don’t dwell on it.”

  She was quiet for a moment.

  “Thank you for offering to spend time with Penny.”

  I shrugged. I was grateful she had let it go. “As I said, I liked her. I need to know her more. As your husband, I should. It would only be natural.”

  She hummed in agreement. “I think you convinced them. Even Graham,” she added. “He was watching us, and I think he liked what he saw.”

  “I agree. Thank you. Another excellent job, Miss Elliott.”

  “That’s Mrs. VanRyan, thank you.”

  An odd ripple went through my chest at her words.

  “I stand corrected. Mrs. VanRyan.”

  She turned her face, looking out the window.

  “And it wasn’t only a job,” she whispered so low, I almost missed it.

  I had no reply to her statement. For some reason, though, I found her hand in the darkness and squeezed it.

  It stayed clasped with hers all the way home.

  She fell asleep before we arrived at our building. I knew she was exhausted after last night, and the events of the day, so I decided to let her sleep. I eased open the door, lifting her out and carrying her up to the condo. She was small in my arms, with her head resting on my shoulder. I found myself unable to look away from her as the elevator whisked us upward. Once in her room, I laid her on the bed, unsure what to do about her dress. She roused a little, and with my encouragement, we managed to get the dress over her head, then she fell back, already asleep.

  I crouched beside the bed, taking in her sleeping form. Lace that matched her dress, covered her breasts, a triangle of the same silk hid her untouched sex from my eyes. Although I had always thought she wasn’t my type, to my surprise, I found the delicate curves and dips of her body sexy. Carefully, I traced a finger over her collarbone, down her chest, across her stomach. Her skin was like satin under my touch. She shivered in her sleep, curling up on her side, mumbling something incoherent. She bent and curled her toes, resuming her sleep.

  I pushed back the dark curls of her hair, and studied her face. The face I had called plain. It was anything but plain. Her cheekbones were too prominent and she was still too thin, yet I knew now she was in a safe place, able to eat properly, and have fewer worries, all of her would fill out
more. The weariness would be erased from under her eyes and the quiet, honest beauty others saw, and I had finally discovered, would shine through.

  I shook my head at the weird thoughts I was having regarding Katharine. Today had been filled with emotions I rarely, if ever, felt. I knew, without a doubt, it was because of the woman in front of me. Still, I didn’t understand why.

  My body stirred at the sight of her, and a fresh wave of shame hit me. I shouldn’t be ogling her while she slept, no matter how appealing she looked in her half-naked state. Hastily, I dragged up her duvet to her chin and switched off the light. I left her door open and retired to my own room, getting ready for the night of restless sleep. Her giving into the exhaustion she felt in the car was only a brief reprieve. I knew in the morning she would ask for her story. I also knew I would give it to her, because the bottom line was, I owed her.

  After I showered, I looked in the mirror at my reflection. The outside shell envied by many. The one that covered up the empty, lost person inside. I had ignored and buried him for many years, and now Katharine was going to bring him to the surface.

  I shuddered, dropping my towel on the floor. I dreaded the conversation.

  Crossing the room, I opened my door wide, even though I knew there would be no comforting wheezes for her tonight.

  I slid into bed, a strange yearning drifting through my head.

  Wishing she were lying there, waiting for me.

  RICHARD

  I WAS SITTING AT THE counter, nursing my third cup of coffee when she came downstairs Sunday morning. She fixed herself a mug—I still hadn’t attempted to use the coffee maker that had appeared one day last week, so she had to make do. I could sense her stolen glances as she waited for the Keurig to perform its magic.

  “What?” I sighed.

  “I fell asleep.”

  “You were exhausted.”

  “I woke up in my bed. With my dress off.”

  I arched my eyebrow at her. “It is customary for a husband to carry his wife over the threshold and remove her wedding dress the night they are married, I believe.”

  Deep crimson flashed across the top of her cheeks, highlighting the delicate bones.

  I grinned and shook my head. “You helped me, Katharine. You fell back asleep; I covered you up and left the room. I thought you might be uncomfortable otherwise.”

  “Oh.”

  She sat beside me, and sipped her coffee before noticing the wrapped package on the counter. “What is that?”

  I pushed the box toward her.

  “A present.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes.”

  I discovered she was a ripper—no gentle peeling back of tape and carefully removing the paper. She grabbed at the corner and tore it off with the glee of a child on Christmas morning. It brought a small smile to my face. She stared down at the box.

  “What?” I smirked at her confusion.

  “It’s a waffle iron.”

  “You said you wanted one so I got it for you. Like a wedding gift.” I chuckled. “I couldn’t fit a table into a gift bag. I guess you’ll have to pick one out yourself.”

  She lifted her gaze to mine. “The gift I wanted costs no more than a small piece of your time.”

  She was wrong on that. I knew what she wanted, what I had promised in order to get her to marry me.

  “You won’t let this go, will you?”

  “No. You know my story. I want to know yours.” She lifted her stubborn chin, the cleft standing out. “You promised.”

  My coffee mug hit the granite with a little too much force. “Fine.”

  I slid off the stool, tense and agitated. I stomped over to the window, looking at the city, the figures small and distant—much the way I wanted these memories to be.

  Yet, Katharine wanted them brought into the open.

  “My father was a playboy. Rich, spoiled, and a real bastard.” I barked out a laugh, turning to look at her with an intense glare. “Like father, like son.”

  Katharine moved to the sofa, sat down, remaining silent. I turned back to the window, not wanting to make much eye contact.

  “He played hard, traveled a lot, basically did what he wanted, until my grandfather called him on it. He told him to grow up and threatened to cut him off financially.”

  “Oh dear,” she murmured.

  “He and my mother married a short time later.”

  “Well, your grandfather must have been pleased.”

  “Not pleased enough. Not much else changed. Now they partied together, still traveling, spending lots of money.” I moved and sat across from her on the ottoman. “He was furious, and gave them an ultimatum: unless he had a grandchild to bounce on his knee within a year, he was pulling the plug on both of them. He also threatened to change his will, cutting out my father completely.”

  “Your grandfather sounds a little bossy.”

  “I come by it honestly.”

  She rolled her eyes, and indicated I should continue.

  “So, I was born.”

  “Obviously.”

  I met her gaze. “I wasn’t born out of love, Katharine. I was born out of greed. I wasn’t wanted. I was never wanted.”

  “Your parents didn’t love you?”

  “No.”

  “Richard—”

  I held up my hand. “My entire childhood, my entire life, I heard about what an inconvenience I was—to both of them. How they had me to make sure the money kept coming. I was raised by nannies, tutors, and as soon as I was old enough, shipped off to boarding school.”

  She began to worry the inside of her cheek, not saying a word.

  “All my life I was taught the one person you could rely on was yourself. Even when I went home during school breaks, I wasn’t welcome.”

  Bending forward, I gripped my knees. “I tried. I tried so hard to get them to love me. I was obedient. I excelled at school. I did everything I could do to make them notice me. I got nothing. The gifts I made at school for Mother’s and Father’s Day were discarded. My drawings were trashed. I can’t remember goodnight hugs or kisses, or having a parent read me a bedtime story. There was no sympathy for scraped knees or bad days. My birthday was marked with an envelope of cash. Christmas was much the same.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek, the sight of it startling me.

  “I learned very early in life, love was an emotion that didn’t interest me. It made me weak. So I stopped trying.”

  “There was no one?” she whispered.

  “Only one. A caregiver when I was about six. Her name was Nancy, but I called her Nana. She was older, kind, and she was different with me. She would read to me, talk, play, listen to my childish nattering. She told me she loved me. She stood up to my parents, and tried to get them to pay more attention to me. She lasted longer than some, which is why my memory of her is sharper than others. She left, though; they all did.” I exhaled hard. “I think my parents thought she was spoiling me, so they dismissed her. I heard her arguing with my mother about how isolated they kept me and I deserved more. I woke up a couple days later to a new nanny.”

  “Is she the one Penny reminds you of?”

  “Yes.”

  “And since then?”

  “No one.”

  “You weren’t close to your grandfather, either? He was the one who seemed to want you the most.”

  I shook my head. “He wanted me to continue the VanRyan line. I rarely saw him.”

  Her brow furrowed, but she remained silent.

  I stood, pacing around the room, my stomach in knots as I allowed myself to remember. “Eventually, my parents could barely tolerate each other, let alone me. My grandfather died, and they separated. I was sent back and forth between them for years.” I gripped the back of my neck as the pain in my chest threatened to overwhelm me. “Neither of them wanted me. I went from place to place, only to be ignored. My mother flitted around, traveling and socializing. There were many times I would wake up to a stranger there
to babysit, while she went on her merry way. My father went from woman to woman; I never knew who I’d run into in the hall or the kitchen.” I grimaced. “I was actually grateful when they sent me away to school. At least there I could forget.”

  “Could you?”

  I nodded. “I learned early in life to compartmentalize. I meant nothing to them. They told me often enough, showed it in their neglect.” I huffed out a huge gust of air. “I had no feelings for them, either. They were the people who paid for things I needed. Our contact was almost always limited to a discussion of money.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It’s the way it was, all my life.”

  “Neither of them remarried?” she asked after a few beats of silence.

  I laughed; the sound was bitter and harsh. “My grandfather had put a stipulation in his will: if they divorced, my father was locked into an allowance. My mother couldn’t touch the money, so they stayed legally married. My father didn’t care; he had plenty of resources. He fucked around when they were married, and he continued when they separated. They settled on a monthly figure, and she lived life the way she wanted and he did, too. A win-win situation.”

  “And you were lost in the shuffle.”

  “Katharine, I was never in the shuffle. I was the discarded Joker in the deck. However, in the end, it didn’t matter.”

  “Why?”

  “When I was almost eighteen, my parents were at a function together. I forget what it was—some society thing. They were big on those. For some reason, they left together, I suppose he was taking her home, and a drunk driver hit them head-on. Both of them were killed instantly.”

  “Were you sad?”

  “No.”

  “You must have felt something?”

  “The one thing I felt was relief. I didn’t have to go places I wasn’t wanted, but sent to for appearance sake. More importantly, though, I didn’t have to pretend to care about two people who never gave a shit about me.”

  She made a strange noise low in her throat, bowing her head for a moment. Her reaction struck me as odd. She seemed so upset.

  “Since they were still legally married, and their wills had never changed, I inherited it all,” I continued. “Every last dime, which is rather ironic, considering the only time they did anything good for me was by dying.”