Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
ENFIELD
No matter how much I try to calm down, it doesn’t happen. I’m so fucking furious I can’t see straight. Concentrating on my breathing only seems to increase my blood pressure. How fucking dare they do this to me? What is wrong with them?
My phone rings again for the dozenth time, and I begin blocking numbers. My parents are first. When another number calls, I shut off my phone entirely and toss it onto the bed. What the fuck?! What the actual fuck?!
Who does this? How could they think this was okay? Even if the Duke affair was real, a sexuality change in the contract should have been fucking talked about. You don’t take it upon yourself to change your kid’s sexuality in the marriage contract unless it’s fucking discussed!
I pace my room and try to remind myself of what Nash said. Nothing changes. Nothing at all. The plan remains as it was laid out. He’s right. I should be able to disassociate more easily now.
Women have always been my soft spot. It’s what had me hesitating for so long when Nash first suggested this. I can’t hurt one. Especially not after the way I fucked around with Courtney’s life without her permission.
Yes, she was angry. She’s still angry five years later. As she should be.
But I’ve always wondered how much of that anger stems from hurt. I’d always been sensitive to the reality of how easy it is to hurt someone, and for me, I’ve avoided treating women with anything less than my utmost respect.
Contracting my betrothal to one just to play her like a fucking flute in the end? I don’t have the heart to do that. Obviously, I did some bargaining with the devil to sign that stupid contract to begin with, because fuck my family if they think they’re going to get what they want.
I’ve never felt the same softness toward men. So this should work much easier in my favor.
My pacing stops at the window, and I stare outside.
The house is situated at an angle, so I’m looking partially at the neighborhood, but to the right, I can see an expansive field that seems to go on forever.
There are houses that interrupt the view in one section, but it’s a small section and off to the side, partially obscured by trees.
Movement below pulls my attention into the yard, and I see Xavi pacing on the patio. He’s on his phone. Probably calling his parents to see what the fuck just happened.
As I watch him from above, discomfort grows in my chest. It’s not his fault, and I need to remember that. We’re not going to become friends, but he doesn’t deserve my anger. He likely knew he was signing a contract with a man. He’s probably gay, which is how this contract came about.
But fucking seriously, what were my parents thinking?! One fucking affair and suddenly my contract changes from a woman to a man? I don’t understand this thought process. What am I supposed to do with this?
I walk away from the window and sit at the edge of the bed. I scrub my hands over my face and let myself fall backward. Apparently, I’m tired enough from stress and anger that I fall asleep. It’s surprisingly peaceful.
Knocking on my door wakes me. I open my eyes, and for a second, stare at the ceiling. A few seconds pass, and I turn my head to find Xavi in the door. He looks withdrawn and doesn’t meet my eyes. Guilt pools in my stomach.
Apparently, I do feel sympathy for men. Who knew?
“I made dinner if you’re hungry,” Xavi says, his voice quiet. “It’s just soup and fresh bread. I didn’t make the bread, but I have it delivered every Friday. It’s good…” He wraps an arm around his stomach, but his eyes don’t meet mine. He’s not even looking in my direction.
Yep, I’m a piece of shit.
I sit up and rub my face. “Yeah, thanks.” Getting to my feet, I follow Xavi from the room into the kitchen.
“It’s nothing special,” he says as he pulls bowls from the cabinet. “I followed a recipe for the slow cooker, so it’s not from a can, anyway.”
I nod as I stand at the counter. He hands me a bowl and points to the drawer where the silverware is. I pull out two spoons and set one on the counter for him. There’s a large round booth set into an alcove, and I take a seat there.
Xavi sets his bowl on the table across from me and brings the bread over with butter and a couple knives. It’s the kind of loaf that isn’t pre-cut. I can smell how fresh it is. It’s good.
He cuts a few slices and butters one before sliding it a little further toward me.
I watch him as I butter a slice too. He still won’t meet my eyes. It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I’m not going to. We’re not friends. We can’t be friends. If we become friendly, then I’m going to end up saying shit, and that’s going to make this whole thing more difficult.
Disassociating. That’s what I’m doing.
“Do you want a tour of the house after dinner?” Xavi asks. His voice is so quiet, I can barely make out the words.
I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
He nods.
We eat in silence for several minutes. Xavi puts his spoon down several times, and I think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. Maybe he loses courage.
I don’t want him to think I’m an asshole, and yet, I don’t want him to like me either. I close my eyes for a minute, wishing Nash were here.
“My mom talked to yours,” Xavi says, and my chewing stops. He still doesn’t look at me.
“Look. This isn’t going to happen,” I tell him, voice pinched. His eyes flicker to mine. “I’m not gay. I’m not into dick. I don’t care if you are—cool. Whatever. But I’m not.”
“She said something about a duke?”
I close my eyes, forcing the frustration down. Not his fault. We’re not friends, but I don’t need to be a dick. “That was fake news. We both had something to gain. Apparently, my mother took it upon herself to decide my sexuality for me.”
I’m surprised when the corner of his mouth tilts up. “I’m used to hearing that in reverse. Sorry.” He bows his head. “It’s kind of funny that they forced you to be gay.”
“In a year, I might think it’s funny. I don’t right now.”
He nods and bows his head further. “Sorry.”
I sigh. “Don’t be. I’m not mad at you. I’m trying really hard not to be an ass to you. Logically, I know this isn’t your fault.”
“I guess you’re too mad to have a conversation now, then?”
“We’re talking, aren’t we?”
“I mean about the contract.”
“I didn’t read it,” I grit out.
Xavi nods, staring into his bowl. “That’s what your mom told mine. But she also said that we both signed it, so…”
“So it’s legally binding,” I supply, trying not to grit out the words.
“Yeah.”
I open my mouth to tell him that my lawyer is working on it, but I snap my jaw closed. The last thing I need is for him to repeat that to his parents and take a chance of them saying something to my parents, and them fucking this up. So I don’t. I don’t reassure him.
“You can have an affair,” I tell him.
Now he looks at me, somewhat startled. I almost laugh. Almost.
“I—what?”
“I’m not having sex with you, Xavi. I assume you have needs, so go ahead and have an affair. You can even bring them home. I don’t care.”
I’m a little startled when his eyes get glassy, and he turns away. An uneasy feeling settles in my gut, and I try my best to ignore it.
“I don’t want to have an affair,” he whispers.
“You want a fairy tale, right?”
He turns away a little more.
“I want my freedom and not to be forced into this bullshit just to get what’s rightfully mine.”
“I don’t understand why you signed the contract,” Xavi says. “Why would you sign a marriage contract with the intent to go in and make us both miserable?”
“I didn’t know I was marrying a man,” I insist.
Xavi shakes his head. “I might not be attracted to women, but it’s equally shitty to do this to a woman.”
“I agree. Something I made clear to my parents, and they had no problem handing me a contract and subjecting my wife to a future of misery.”
He looks at me, but I can’t read his expression. A beat passes. “You told your parents that you were… going to be…”
“An asshole? Yes. Their concern was that I read the contract. If I’d had even a fucking inkling that they wrote it up for you, then I’d have read it.
” Xavi flinches. “Not you specifically,” I amend.
“A man. In general. However, the individual didn’t matter.
I want what’s owed to me by my fucking birth, and if they insisted that the only way to get it was marrying some woman and not giving a fuck that the woman they chose was going to spend the rest of her life miserable, then why did I care what was in the contract? ”
“They didn’t tell you they changed it to a guy?” he asks, eyebrows pulling together on his forehead.
“No. Kinda shitty, right?”
“I think… isn’t that against the terms in the contract somehow?”
“I don’t know. I have my lawyer looking at it. I’m inclined to believe that they have a stronger argument to keep it valid because I refused to read it.”
“I disagree,” he says and leans forward. “I think when you refused to read it, they should have told you that at the very minimum.”
“I agree. I’m not sure a court would agree.”
Xavi shakes his head. “What of the fact that you made it clear that your partner was going to be miserable, and they still had you sign it? Isn’t that somehow breaking the contract?”
“Again, I think that’s a stretch. How I treat my partner isn’t their concern, is it?”
He stares at me for a long time. “So that’s it? This is my life now? You’re going to be an angry asshole for the next seventy years, and I just have to deal with it?”
The pit in my stomach twists. I fist my hands in my lap and realize his are balled tightly too. I don’t answer. Saying yes paints me as a far bigger asshole than I actually am. Tell him no means that maybe there’s hope.
“I’m not gay, Xavi. Nothing is changing that. I don’t know what you want me to tell you. If you were me, would you decide that you’re suddenly going to try being straight?”
He presses his lips together as he studies me. I think he wants to say yes because that would make him a bigger person. And that’s what he wants to hear from me. But that moment of determination passes, and he drops his eyes, his features releasing the resolve. “No,” he murmurs.
“I should have read the contract,” I tell him. “Then I’d be someone else’s miserable future.”
He turns his face away and closes his eyes.
“Have an affair. Fall in love. You can still have a happy life that doesn’t involve me. Have their kids. Have a happy family. I don’t care.”
Xavi has been shaking his head since my first words. It’s probably the first moment I realize that he’s a really good person. I’m not. And somehow, he got stuck with me.
“Your choice,” I tell him and turn back to my meal. At least soup stays hot for eons, so it’s still warm when I bring another bite to my mouth. It’s good. I want to tell him, but I don’t. I resist all urges to comfort or reassure him.
We’re not friends. I won’t feed him false hope. He deserves the truth so he can get out of this and live his own life.
An orange ball of fur suddenly jumps onto the table. Xavi moves quickly and grabs it, pulling it into his lap. I hear the angry meowww in response as it struggles to get away.
“Stop it,” Xavi hisses. Eventually, he lets the cat go, and it sits on the bench beside him, staring at me over the table. I’m confident that he’s glaring. “Sorry. I swear to you he’s not usually in the kitchen. There is no cat hair in the food. I promise.”
“You didn’t train him to stay off the table?”
He meets my eyes, and it’s the first real glint of personality I catch. “Have you ever tried to train a cat? If an animal could convey a fuck you, cats would.” He looks at the cat. “Especially orange cats.”
I snort.
“This is Shapiro. I call him Shapi usually. He’s the true master of the house. You have only a fifty percent chance of him liking you, but by the way he’s glaring, I think that’s dropped to ten percent.”
“Smart cat,” I say, smirking at the cat. “Animals are a good judge of character.”
“I’d agree, but he despises my mother, and she’s a good person.”
“She betrothed you to a straight man,” I remind him.
Xavi shakes his head. “She didn’t know. I believe her.”
“Why?”
“Because my oldest brother is gay, and she found an amazing husband for him. My third-oldest brother is bisexual and polyamorous, and she worked up a contract for that and found him a wife who shares his lifestyle. My twin brothers, just older than me, have a contract where they live under the same roof with their wives and families. Maybe your mother is a jerk, but mine isn’t. ”
“That must be nice,” I say. “I still find it hard to believe that she didn’t know.”
“I think she trusted that your mother wouldn’t do something so awful. This isn’t my mother’s fault.”
“You don’t have to sell me that my parents deserve to burn in hell.”
Xavi’s eyes shoot wide. “I didn’t say that!”
“I did.” I shrug. “You don’t have to convince me they’re awful.
I’ve resented them since I was a teenager, and this little trick has violently shoved that resentment into full-blown hatred.
But I have to question why your parents didn’t do some research, Xavi.
One sensationalized headline about a supposed affair with an English duke doesn’t mean someone is gay.
It doesn’t mean they want to marry a man.
It could simply mean they were experimenting.
Also, those images were debunked as AI shortly after they went viral.
And the duke said the story was fake. We’ve never had an affair.
So if that’s the sole example and reason your parents are insisting they didn’t know I wasn’t gay, I think you’re really na?ve. ”
Xavi stares at me again. I can see the war in his eyes.
He doesn’t want to believe me. He wants to believe his parents are good.
But he also can’t deny my point. He can’t argue with that anymore than I can argue that I should have fucking read the contract, or my parents should have said they stopped looking for a wife and instead handed me a contract for a husband.
I’m right. Like it or not.