“I know you think you can, and it could be true,” he added, like he was throwing me a bone.“But your papa knows best.I have seen much more of life than you have in three-quarters of a century.Twenty-eight?You’re a baby.You’ll understand one day.”
“Do you know you’ve been saying that to me ever since I was a little girl?”
“And I’ve always been right.”He winked, his eyes twinkling.He then inclined his head toward the frosted glass door beyond where we were standing.“Your groom is waiting for us inside.”
My groom.I had to remember I was doing this for the right reason—to make Papa happy, to make his last years peaceful, to protect my people.They were counting on me, and I wasn’t going to take some stranger’s word for it when he swore he would keep their jobs in place.
I was doing it for myself too.Was I supposed to step aside and let this groom of mine take over what I had fought like hell to grow?Would he ever feel the same affection flowing through him when he walked through the doors of one of our properties?He hadn’t grown up in some of them, hadn’t grown up alongside the children of our longtime employees.They weren’t his family.
Whatever it takes.
I reminded myself of that as Papa led me through the door, our arms linked in some weird parody of him walking me down the aisle.
A tall, broad backed man standing at the registrant’s desk turned at the sound of our entrance.Dammit, there were his dimples when he smiled.Those dimples were going to be the death of me, along with a body no suit could hide.At least he wouldn’t be bad to look at on the occasions we would cross paths at home or work.
“Let’s do this,” I announced.
The sooner we got it over with, the sooner I could move on with my life.
* * *
Matteo:I want to see you tonight.
Matteo’s text made my heart sink.I left my phone in my lap, face down, then went back to my salad.He wasn’t taking this whole marriage thing well, no matter how I tried to tell him it didn’t matter.It was only a formality.Clay and I had an understanding, awkward as it was.We were doing this to keep Papa happy, to get Clay his properties, and for me to keep my job.
We sat at a round table in the corner of the restaurant, away from the busiest part of the dining room, where the men could talk, and I could fade into the background.They may as well have gotten a table for two and let me sit by myself.
“I’ve been thinking about the hotel in Sonoma,” Clay told Papa.He had barely touched his food, too busy feasting on business.“I understand the last time it was updated was more than a decade ago.”
“That was something I had in the pipeline,” Papa explained.“But the cabins up in Lake Tahoe took precedence.That was my second purchase after the resort in Santa Barbara.”
“While there are very few negative comments about the facilities online, those that exist revolve around outdated furnishing…” Clay droned on, and Papa soaked up every word while I found myself wondering how my fork would look sticking out of his eye socket.What right did he have to talk that way?It had been all of an hour since we signed the marriage license, meaning it had been half an hour since the men had finished signing the transfer papers in a small antechamber off the registrar’s office.
Clay had officially owned our properties for half an hour, and he was already staking his claim.He may as well have whipped it out and pissed all over the place to make sure everybody knew what was his.
Obviously, he had spent hours obsessing over this.I could imagine him in the house my things had already been moved into, plotting, scheming, rubbing his hands together like a supervillain in some cheesy spy movie.Imagining himself sitting at the top of the empire, a king on his throne, having everything he wanted and not having to give up a single thing in exchange.
The phone buzzed in my lap.Another text from Matteo.
Matteo:Will you be at your new place tonight?I want to be there for you.You deserve to keep your life as normal as possible too.
It wasn’t that he didn’t make a point.And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him.On the contrary, I craved his caring and kindness now more than ever.He was somebody who actually wanted to be with me, not because he had signed a ton of paperwork which happened to include a marriage license.Somebody who actually thought about me.I was thinking like a whiny, petulant teenager, but then I had never been through anything like this.
Was it a good idea for him to show his face?Would that only complicate things?
I didn't want to keep him waiting, so I sent him a quick message.
Me:Let me get back to you.I’m fine.Don’t worry.
Papa turned to me.“Do you think you’ll be comfortable in your new house?”he asked.
“I can’t imagine not being comfortable there.”So what if I’d spent the past six years in a beautiful apartment?Granted, I didn’t get to spend a ton of time there, usually traveling from one location to the other, pulling long hours at the office, and even staying at rival properties to get an idea of how we could improve.But it was mine, dammit.
“And when?—”
“Good,Cara Mia,”my father interrupted, shifting his attention to Clay before I could finish.
“If there’s one thing I like, it’s comfort.”Clay cut a bite of his salmon but paused, lifting the fork to his lips.
