Spencer
Saving the damsel felt a lot like being the villain. I hadn't expected that.
As I signed my name on the marriage license, and then on the contract drafted up and hastily revised by Sylvia's attorneys, I realized there was no going back. I couldn't un-save Arabella, even if she'd made it abundantly clear that she didn't want my help. It had seemed like a solid idea at the time. But Bee's face when she'd heard about the contract—there was no erasing the memory of that anguish.
I straightened after signing both documents, glaring hard at Sylvia. "I'll expect the deed in my attorney's hands next week."
"Naturally," Sylvia smiled tightly.
Mr. Rook looked unimpressed by the entire thing, swiping away at his phone like he was waiting for his wife to finish a lengthy bank transaction. How could a man care so little about the well-being and happiness of his own daughter? How could Sylvia, for that matter? I tossed the pen down on the table,identical to the way Arabella had done it. "If that's everything, I'll be on my way."
"I do hope to see you for holidays," Sylvia said smugly.
She'd written that future in stone. There would be no holidays with Sylvia Rook. In fact, I suspected that Arabella would never see her again, and I would ensure it stayed that way. By the time I made my way back into the ballroom, guests had filtered in and appeared to be enjoying flutes of champagne, elegant hors d'oeuvres, and mundane conversation.
I panned a look across the room, searching for a fluffy ball of tulle and sass. Had she left already? Not that I could blame her, but I wanted to clear this up with Arabella. She needed time to process all the changes that were happening here today, but the important thing was that she was free.
Several people stopped me to congratulate me on my marriage, and I didn't know a single one of them. I had told my mother before the event to duck out after the ceremony and not torture herself with anything else. It had been a painful enough discussion to tell her the truth about the wedding in the first place. I nodded to the guests as they stopped me and congratulated me on a stunning ceremony I had had nothing to do with, and then finally, I spotted a glimpse of shimmering white on a terrace.
I threaded through the growing crowd, my eyes on an open set of glass doors that led to a semicircular terrace overlooking a sweeping valley below. She had her back to the ballroom, and she'd placed her hands on the marble balustrade with bowed shoulders. I approached her cautiously with measured steps. "Bee?"
She gave me an uncompromising look over her shoulder. "Finished already? Signing someone's life away takes less time than getting my hair done."
"Ara," I replied, my voice dipping with resignation. "I didn't signyourlife away. I moved the ranch from your mother's name to mine, and soon it'll be in yours." I came to stand next to her. Away from the bubble of heat, a chill crept down my neck and bit my nose. "Why aren't you happy about this?"
Arabella sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her wrist. She still wore a veil in her hair, and I thought it was a shame they'd pinned her short, pink hairdo back to accommodate the gauzy accessory. I liked her hair. It was spunky like her. "I don't think you get it."
"Obviously." I turned so I could rest my butt against the balustrade and fold my arms. It gave me a better view of her features, of her high-cut, red cheeks and glistening eyes. "Is it because it wasn't your choice?"
"Partially." She tugged at the long, lace sleeves over her arms, and I had to imagine that gown was damn uncomfortable. My tux was practically strangling me. She stared down at the valley with its rolling white landscape and ribbons of waterways. "You had no right to make those decisions for me."
I bit back the retort I wanted to toss at her feet, which was, "You didn't answer my calls, so I did the best I could." Instead, I said, "I agree. Believe it or not, I don't get some sick satisfaction from having my life upended and my brain fried by impossible decisions that aren't even really about me. They were about my best friend'ssister. It wasn't my favorite Christmas season, figuring all that out by myself."
She glanced at me, finally. A hint of chagrin pulled at her mouth. "Oh."
"I started to wonder if you were even real," I joked.
She sighed, looking forward again, and her breath plumed out like a snow blossom. "If I didn't acknowledge it, then I guess I thought it wouldn't be real."
"I knowwhyyou were in denial," I said with some amusement. "What I don't know iswhyyou're so angry at me for saving your ranch."
She shook her head, glancing up. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't get it."
"Try me,” I challenged.
The sun reflecting off the blinding snow created a pale glow on Arabella's skin, and as she turned to hold my gaze again, her light eyes could have been shards of ice. "You took my dreams."
A scowl slowly drew my brows together. "The ranch is your dream."
"It's not." Hesitation pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before she admitted, "A family was."
I felt like someone had dumped snow down the back of my shirt. "Wait… what?"
"I know it's stupid," she said, looking away again and crossing her arms defensively across her torso, "and I didn't even realize it myself until literally minutes ago. But my childhood was rotten. I was privileged, I know that. I'm not complaining."
"Your parents are abusive assholes. You can complain," I said dryly.
"Exactly. It was a cruel childhood. Cold. I have no concept of what families should be like or how connections should be formed.” Arabella’s arms gripped her torso, and the sight of her hollow gaze settled uncomfortably in my stomach. “So, as unlikely as it might be, I think all this time, I've been dreaming of having a loving family of my own. A do-over. I thought maybe… if I found someone, and we made a life together, then maybe my past wouldn't…" She winced. "I guess, then it wouldn't hurt as much."
