I look up at him quickly. That last comment was strange. What does he mean, we’re like family now? That doesn’t seem right. As far as I know, he’s still just the son of a family friend at best, even though my parents do want to marry me off to him. Did something happen?
Before I can ask, the first course is served. Father, Michael, and Milo all begin to discuss the latest market trends, and I quickly tune them out. I wish I had my phone so that I could message Gavin, but that would be akin to suicide. Instead, I have to settle for ignoring the man my family wants me to marry in favor of dreaming about the man I actually want.
It’s an awful situation, but there’s nothing I can do. I get through dinner with the minimum amount of pain, only responding when I absolutely have to. That’s fine with the men, of course, since they’re more interested in hearing themselves talk than they are in anything I might have to say.
The main course comes and goes and eventually we’re all sitting at the table, drinking decaf coffee. Mother stands and excuses herself after a few minutes, followed by father. Michael is the last one to make some excuse, leaving me there with Milo.
I realize too late that it’s a trap. I’m too polite to tell Milo to leave, and if everyone else has gone, I’m forced to sit down there with him. This is exactly what father and mother want, of course.
“So, Sadie,” he says, smiling at me. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Yeah,” I say, being polite. “Same. It’s nice.”
“We don’t see each other nearly enough.” He smiles again.
“No,” I say, not wanting to elaborate.
He stirs his coffee with a spoon. I look down at mine, a little milky white spreading through the black, and then look back at Milo.
“I’m glad you finally changed your mind,” Milo says to me.
I cock my head. “About what?”
“About our marriage.” He shrugs and smiles, leaning back in his chair. “I know it’s a little, ah, old fashioned. But we’d make a very good pair. Our families would be stronger together.”
I stare at him, a sinking dread spreading through my whole body. “Our marriage?” I ask him.
His smile falters just a touch. “Yes, of course. Your father spoke with mine, and they agreed that we’d get married in the spring of next year. He said you agreed to it.”
His comment about practically being family becomes suddenly frighteningly clear. I push back my chair and stand very quickly, trying to keep myself under control.
“Excuse me, Milo,” I say. “I’m not feeling well.”
He says something, but I don’t hear him. I turn and walk as fast as I can out of there, my heart hammering in my chest.
My father fucking married me off behind my back without my consent. Like I’m some kind of property, he agreed to a weird arranged marriage that I have no say in.
And to make matters worse, he didn’t tell me about it. He didn’t even bother to inform me about his little deal, although Milo clearly knows all about it.
I’m livid, absolutely livid with anger. I want to scream and yell and tear down this house. I can’t believe they’re trying to force me to marry Milo like this.
I don’t hesitate. I walk right into my bedroom, grab the phone, turn it on, and message Gavin.
“Pick me up tonight at midnight. I’m ready.” I hit send, not caring what that means.
He responds almost immediately. “See you soon.”
I hide the phone away again and curl up on my bed, trying not to yell and scream. I have to get out of this house and see someone who actually cares about me, and the only person that fits that description is Gavin.
He’s the only man that actually cares what I want and makes me feel happy. I’m done playing pretend. I’m finished with my family. I’m going to do what I want, for myself, finally.
I’m going to let Gavin give me what I’ve always dreamed about.
15
Gavin
She’s quiet on the ride over to my apartment. I try to draw her out in conversation, but she clearly doesn’t want to talk, and I don’t want to press.
Something happened. That’s pretty obvious. Something has been happening, but this is new. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that I have to wait until she’s ready to talk. I don’t want to push and risk upsetting her further.
We get back to my apartment and head right upstairs. Once inside, I pour her a glass of wine and I get myself a whisky with a single large piece of ice. I swirl it around as she goes and sits on my couch.
“You’re quiet tonight,” I say.
She shrugs a little bit. “I guess so.”