Accidentally Married to the Billionaire 2(10)

“That’s harsh. I figured you had to eat kidney pie and mincemeat pie and any other repulsive pie that Lena could come up with and that you probably got wool socks from her for presents.”

“She and my father spent holidays on St. Barth’s, for the most part. I hear it’s very beautiful there,” he said.

“Well, there went any ambition I ever had to go to St. Barth’s. Apparently it’s where the evil bitches have their meetings. I’ll pass.”

“Don’t blame the island. It wasn’t even Lena’s fault. I didn’t want to spend time at that house after she moved in. There were a lot of changes, and I didn’t like giving up the way things had always been since my mom passed away.”

“What was your mom like? Is it okay for me to ask?”

“You have to ask, because it’s important to know some things about me, and that’s good. It makes our case stronger as far as establishing the veracity of our union  .”

“Just, off the record, do you seriously think anyone believes this marriage is real? I mean, timed the way it was to get you your inheritance, people would have to be completely stupid and naïve to even consider the possibility.”

“People believe what they want to believe. Haven’t you found that to be true?”

“Usually, yeah.”

“So, we can make them want to believe in us. By seeming close and like we know each other well.”

“Okay, tell me about your mom.”

“She was a lovely woman. She got sick, and nothing doctors could do could save her. She died when I was ten. Just like that, the world ended. My life as I knew it was over,” Brandon rubbed his hands over his face, and she tried hard not to gather him into her arms.

“Was your dad there for you? I mean, did he—was he—I don’t know what I mean. Did he step up and build a closer relationship with you or anything?”

“Not really. He was always very absorbed in his work, and he built a vast portfolio of holdings in addition to the company. My mother had always been the parent. When she got sick, he hired a nanny, so I got picked up from school, taken to practice, that sort of thing…and a nurse for her. He made sure we had what we needed. It went on for months, and I got to where I was used to it, to coming home and her not being able to get out of bed. But she would want me to sit down and tell her all about my day, and at first, we’d eat dinner together right on her bed on a tray. She made it fun like we were being fancy or having a picnic…” he trailed off, and she had heard the sadness in his voice.

Marj’s eyes teared up, and she choked down the lump in her throat. She could feel in the pit of her stomach the hollow hopelessness of a woman trying to make her weakening, her dying into something normal, something with fun parts for her child. Because they were in it together and, of course, her thoughts would have been for him. She laid a hand on his shoulder and felt the tremor there.

“I’m so sorry, Brandon. I can’t imagine how terrible it was to go through that, to lose her.”

“I wished so many nights, I’d lay awake and wish it was my dad and not her,” he said, “I’ve never—told anyone that. Except the therapist. My dad got me a psychiatrist after she died. I told the doctor that, and he said it was normal to want to keep the person who was more important to you. Then he said a bunch of crap about how maybe my closeness with my mother had been a barrier to having a better relationship with my dad. And that was bullshit because he was all about his work. I went to boarding school that fall and I never really came back. I had the summers at home, with the nanny mostly and whatever lessons and camps I could be sent to. Then he married Lena. I was old enough by then I just wanted to not have to deal with her, much less see her in my mom’s place.”

“I bet that was hard. And by hard, I mean I bet you wanted to kill her.”

“I didn’t want to kill her so much as I wanted to see her vaporized by a swarm of bees or wasps mainly. I can understand now how it must have been hard for her, being really closer to my age than her own husband’s, and to have to deal with a teenager who missed his mother and didn’t want anything to do with new family traditions or anything being different.”

“You’d had a terrible loss. It doesn’t sound to me like anyone was loving you or comforting you.”

“I had a therapist, I told you.”

“Right. That’s the same,” she said ruefully.

“I was sixteen by that time and didn’t want someone to talk to me about my feelings and my dead mother. I thought my dad looked ridiculous for pursuing this, this woman who was young enough to be his kid. It was embarrassing.”