by Dawn Edwards
He flashed me a smile for a brief second before walking past me, back outside onto the front veranda to greet my parents. He was always nice to them to their faces, but in the past few months, his tolerance for me had been dwindling with every passing day. As soon as he got the upper hand, the act he had fooled me with disappeared. It was a sentiment I returned, and I knew it.
My parents as always greeted Matt with pleasantries, which, I had only started to realize recently, he didn't deserve. They then delivered a coffee to Drew, who was already making his way back into the old garage. I wanted to just take a seat on the porch and watch him work, but I knew that would be far too obvious. As it was, I was trying my hardest to casually steal glances of him without Matt catching me or being obvious in front of my parents.
My father asked us to join him on a walk. We followed along the road and turned up the next driveway. I knew this house, it had been on the market for some time and used to belong to the Koplands before their long messy divorce.
‘Did it finally sell?’ I asked, looking up to my father.
‘I think,’ he said and continued walking.
As he started up the front steps, my mother reached into her purse and pulled out a Tiffany’s box. I eyed it curiously, when she handed it to me. I opened it and inside was a lone key, on a Tiffany’s key ring.
‘I know it’s a bit early, but your mother and I wanted to give you both your wedding present now…’ my father said, pride beaming from every inch of him.
‘That way you can keep this place in mind when you start your registry.’ My mother was far more excited about my wedding than I was lately, despite who I was marrying. This made my conflicted feelings about canceling the wedding even harder. To hell with the consequences, but I still hadn’t mustered the nerve to do it. I was too afraid of what Matt would do.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and smiled up at them the best I could. Otherwise, I knew I’d listen to my gut, which had been telling me to run and never look back.
I remembered when Matt proposed. It was corny and public, but I had said yes. I really thought I loved him then. That was almost 4 months ago, New Year’s Eve, and less than two years into our relationship. He was 5 years older than I was, and I had been so taken by him. I really thought I would be one of the lucky ones who got a happy ending like the make-believe princesses in my childhood stories did.
It was a difficult time. My brother had recently died; I was grieving. My whole family was grieving. It was the little bit of positive news that helped us see that there could be a brighter future. But as my grief subsided, the storm clouds were gathering.
After Josh’s death, I threw myself into my studies. I kept as busy as possible, so that my days didn’t allow the time to dwell on my sorrow, and by the night I was too tired to think.
My mother had made it clear she would not be doing Thanksgiving or Christmas that year. She wasn’t ready, in all honesty, none of us were. Matt understood but tried to cheer me up by planning a night out for New Year’s Eve. He’d even invited Zoe and her date, and one of his co-workers and his wife.
Matt proposed at the stroke of midnight, with a crowd of onlookers. To say I was shocked was an understatement.
‘Jessa Cahill, words cannot describe how I’ve felt this past year. I don’t only want to spend this next year with you, I want to spend the rest of my life trying to repay you for all you have brought to me. Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?’
I immediately said yes. I mean, things were good then. He was still nice then, his true colors hadn’t come to the surface yet. Plus, he had stuck by me through my grief, he had tried hard to make me happy, even on my darkest days, he was there for me.
I had the attention of a man, when for so long, I had only been Steve Cahill’s daughter. Matt had made me feel more than someone's daughter. To him I was a woman, my own person, and he wanted to make me his wife.
Me.
When we returned home, my mother was beside herself excited, she saw this as a distraction, as I did also, as a positive headline to replace the death of Josh.
However, my father wasn’t all that happy with the news. He had asked us not to go public yet, but Matt had already posted it to social media, and some people had retweeted and shared it. So, then my father asked for us to have a long engagement, which I had been on board with, that way I could finish school, but Matt insisted we get married within the year. He didn’t want to wait, didn’t like the fact I still lived with my parents and they were too traditional to allow me to live with him. They didn’t even want me spending the night, citing it didn’t look good for their public image.
My father had his reservations and suspicious, and rightly so, given my father’s company, family wealth, and my appealing trust fund. But I tried to remind him that Matt knew nothing of all that when we first got together. This placated my father but only to a certain point.
But now my father was buying us a summer home, so I assumed his reservations were subsiding, or it was his way of keeping tabs on me; it was hard to read my father at times, this was all new territory for both of us.
I was literally shocked. I looked to Matt and saw that his smile was genuine, but I could tell by his eyes there was something else going on. ‘Wow, thanks, that’s very generous,’ Matt said, giving a hug to my parents, even my father.
My mother was too excited to wait any longer. ‘Let’s go in.’
‘You going to carry her in?’ my father joked with Matt.
‘Oh, they’re not married yet Steve,’ my mother teased, with a tender playful slap to his chest.
‘Yeah, and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to the altar with a broken back.’ Matt laughed at me, it was his daily dig at my body and weight and insecurities. He wasn’t funny, he was cruel, and everyone in my family knew it.
No one said anything. I felt myself turning red, distraction mode kicking in. I took the key and opened the door.
I was under no illusions that I had a tight rocking body. I had curves, and some of the curves had some extra padding.
My thighs rubbed together, my calves weren’t slender. My hips were wide, and I had a lot of junk in my trunk. While my stomach was flat, it was by no means firm. I had average arms, small compared to the rest of me, and a chubby face. All this was accentuated by the fact that I was only five-foot-five-inches. Had I been a few inches taller, I was sure I’d look thinner, there’d be more room for the fat to stretch over. In a rash move last summer, soon after Josh’s death, I got breast implants, and I almost instantly regretted it, it made me more aware of my body’s proportions.
My parents must have been here after getting coffee, as there was an ice bucket with champagne on the counter. The house was still furnished with outdated furniture and appliances. My father told me the owners had already rented it out for the summer, but that we would officially close on it the week after our wedding. That way, we could spend the winter starting to renovate it, to have common areas complete for our first summer. My father toasted the house and us. Then left us to look around.
While I still had the lump in my throat, I was in awe. I couldn’t believe I actually had a house of my own. It felt more real than the condo for some reason, and it wasn’t technically ours yet. I started to look around. It was in serious need of renovations, but I could see past the 80’s colors, the 90’s carpet, the 60’s fixtures, the 50’s kitchen and mismatched furniture. It had a lot of promise, and I knew I could turn it into a real home.
All my joy was instantly extinguished when I came downstairs and saw Matt sitting on the kitchen counter. By the look on his face, I knew his feelings were the antithesis of what mind was in that moment. ‘Did you know about this?’ he asked through gritted teeth.
‘No,’ I said caught off guard, thinking he should be grateful at least. But instead of showing some appreciation, he got up and left the house as a petulant toddler again.
He was walking back to my parents’ house, and I fo
llowed behind him a few feet. His beast was showing, and I had learned it was best to just let him be. Once back at my parents’, he stopped next to the car. It was locked, and I knew he couldn’t get in. My parents were already inside the house, but we needed to talk, so I deliberately didn't open the door. I walked right up to him, and he started in on me.
‘This is so them, buying you a house next to them, keeping you close so they can continue controlling you, and us. We will not be accepting this house. Do they think I can’t afford to buy you a house? Does your father not think I’m man enough to take care of you?’ As he went off on me, I could see through the window of the garage that Drew was in there and no doubt hearing the whole thing. But he had the class and fortitude to stay put. No doubt, my father had already had him sign a nondisclosure agreement.
But what could I say? I was in a predicament, trying to please my family and keep Matt happy. It was a delicate balancing act, one I never seemed to master. Despite trying my hardest, I always seemed to fail in Matt’s eyes, and never seemed to live up to my parents’ expectations of me.
With Matt, it was as if I could never do anything right. Like he was always testing me, and I never passed. It had been that way for a few months now, and I was getting exhausted. My once fun-loving boyfriend had turned into a miserable, hypercritical fiancé. I wasn’t optimistic for our marriage, but at this point I had no option but to go through with it.
Chapter 3
DREW
Some guys have no idea how good they have it.
The douche leaning against the seventy-thousand-dollar SUV was mad because he was just given a house.
A fucking house!
Not any typical house, either, but a very large, very expensive, oceanfront property.
I shook my head, whispering out loud to myself, ‘A house.’
The proud, controlling, wannabe alpha male. I knew his type, he wanted to be alpha, but when faced with a real alpha, he’d be put in his place, fleeing with his tiny dick between his legs. I was sure he secretly hated himself and punished that poor girl for his own shortcomings and mental instability. I’d known more than my fair share of men like him than I cared to remember.
But yet, there he was, angry and taking it out on the girl he was supposed to love.
The girl I’d thought about a few times since first meeting her last week. I wasn’t even sure why I thought of her. I didn’t know her, she wasn’t my typical type. But that smile and those eyes drew me in. I had no right thinking of this girl. She was my boss’s daughter and apparently was engaged. Poor girl, couldn’t she see he was an asshole?
This was the same girl I had met last week, but her eyes today were sad, scared and guarded. I knew it was no coincidence that her asshole of a fiancé was the reason for the change in her demeanor.
All I could do was shake my head. I’d never understand the rich. He had it a hell of a lot better than I did, but you didn’t see me complaining. Even at my worst, I’d always try to see the sun through the clouds.
It was too easy to get stuck in a negative headspace, and it took too much effort to get out of it once you were drowning in it.
I sure as hell wouldn’t complain if I were just given a house!
Hell, I was grateful when Mr. Cahill offered me a hotel room. Tonight would be a real treat, a real bed, in a four-walled private room that Mr. Cahill was putting me up in. Here I was thinking it was too much last night when he offered it, he didn’t want me to waste time, gas and money commuting again. But now, I saw in the whole scheme of things, offering me a hotel room for a few days wasn’t much at all. A drop in the financial bucket for him, when he was buying what I assumed was a multimillion-dollar home, but from what I knew of my new boss, he could afford it.
The past two weeks had really been a bit surreal, to say the very least. Being hired by Mr. Cahill had been the break I’d always wanted, what I needed more than anything. My luck was finally changing. Things were finally starting to look up for me. For the first time in my life, things might actually turn out positive for me. I’d been saying a silent prayer to the sky above every morning this week for my terrific turn of fate.
My whole life had been a rollercoaster of some highs but more low lows. My siblings and I were nothing more than a paycheck to our mum. She didn’t know how to take care of herself, let alone the four kids she’d started having at the age of 16.
I learned quick that if I wanted something, I had to get it for myself. I managed to break free of my so-called family, moved to Manchester for university where I earned my degree, but still ended up back in London. My girlfriend at the time, Heather, was offered a job in London, and as she had never lived anywhere but rural Scotland, she had a romanticized and frivolous view of living in the city; she was all too happy to accept the offer. Reluctantly, I moved there with her where we shared a small flat.
I refused to be like my family. I was determined to make something of my life and stayed as far away from the welfare benefits the government offered, that my family exploited.
The decision to move to America had been a swift one. Defeated one night after another week of limited work, my family’s latest antics and my ex-girlfriend’s increasing need to reinvent herself and climb the social and professional ladder. A man could only bend so much before he broke, and I was there.
I knew I was irritable, and as the days went by, I was getting worse. I just didn’t have the willpower at that point to climb out of my dark hole.
A sucker for punishment, I scrolled through Facebook, seeing many of my university friends getting on with their lives and their careers. I wished my friend Becky a happy birthday. She was an American girl who studied a year abroad at my university last year. Having not spoken in a while, she messaged me.
As we chatted online, catching up, she told me how excited she was that her British boyfriend, Will—a guy I knew socially from school, but not well—just got his work visa approved and was moving to America next week.
‘Great news, hopefully the job market will be better there than it is here,’ I told her.
‘If you’re interested, there’s an extra room in my parents’ basement apartment where Will and I will live.”
‘Don’t tempt me…’ I replied, initially dismissing her, but I’d have been lying if I said the pull wasn’t there.
‘Seriously, think about it.’ She sent me the link for the visa program, designed for young adults under the age of 30.
The job prospects in the UK weren’t great, and I knew America wasn’t much better either. But I knew I needed a new start. Even if I failed, at least I’d try, and I’d be far away from the toxic people who had wormed their way back into my life.
It took me two weeks of eating beans and toast, taking a job at Primark during the day, and stocking shelves overnight at a local Tesco to save enough cash I needed to pay for the application fee and bank the required cash. I did the same thing over the next few weeks while I waited, selling my things for the airfare and extra cash. I was granted the visa on a Tuesday and booked a one-way ticket for that Friday, taking Becky up on her offer to rent that room.
But within two months, here I was, standing on the grounds of a multimillion-dollar estate, having earned the right to be here on my own, by my own talent. I didn’t owe anyone a thing for this, and no one owed me anything. I knew better than to depend on others. I’d made myself who I was and had the right to feel proud of my accomplishments.
I was proud of myself, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to share those accomplishments. I wanted to work hard and have a set of green eyes look at me with pride. What was with that handshake, I wanted to feel that electric shock again.
Chapter 4
JESSA
ALL MY CLASSES and projects were completed; I had written four of my five exams, basically back to back, but now I had to wait nearly two weeks to finally be finished with my third year. One more semester and I would graduate with my bachelor’s degree.
With
the wedding being at the end of summer, my mother thought it would be best if I took the summer off to concentrate on that, but with everything going on with Matt, I needed work as a distraction. Plus, my father made the case that with George away, he needed me to step up. So, to please both my parents, I would be working for the first two months and spending the rest of the summer out on the Cape.
For the next two months, I would be working full-time at my father’s company. I had been working here on and off for a few years now, each summer or school holiday doing something slightly different. Summers were always the best, though. My father was generous, giving all his employees Fridays off from May to August. This summer I was filling in for George, one of the finance guys, while he took paternity leave—because you know my father was awesome like that too. Finance wasn’t my favorite thing, but it was where I was needed.
I was studying marketing, and last summer I worked part-time with the marketing department helping to develop a new campaign targeting family travel. It had been fun and rewarding, and I was hoping to do more of that, but instead of being creative, I would be plugging numbers.
Being the boss’s daughter, I was expected to fill in wherever there was a gap and to get a good feel for the entire company. My best friend Zoe worked here full-time during the summer and a few hours a week throughout the school year. She was a Public Relations major and was lucky to work on special projects related to her chosen field. The internship of sorts she had going on had her learning lots of different aspects regarding public relations and communications.
Zoe and I had met during our first week at Harvard last year, and having many of the same classes, we hit it off straight away. We were both recognizable, me from the throngs of uppity Bostonians at Harvard that ran in our social circle, Zoe because she was an Olympic swimmer, having medaled at the last summer Olympics—while she had still been in high school. She was here on a scholarship but hated attention as much as I did. We were a good fit in so many ways.