Chapter 3 #2
I told her things I’ve never told another living soul.
Real things. Not bullshit about school or work or my siblings or my life.
Things about me. And she did the same. I trusted her in a way I don’t trust easily or often.
Maybe it’s because she was so young and didn’t pose a romantic threat—more like my baby sister Rina is to me than anything else—or because she has money of her own and never cared about mine.
Maybe it’s because we both loved and missed Forest.
Whatever it was, our friendship continued until I couldn’t continue it anymore.
But that didn’t mean I stopped caring or wondering.
Now, I know next to nothing about her. Nothing of her life.
Where she is or what she’s doing. I’ve never asked Ellis and since we don’t talk often, when we do, we catch up on each other’s things and he doesn’t bring her up much.
There is nothing on the internet about a Bunny Parker and I know that’s because Bunny isn’t her real first name.
Her mom divorced Ellis’s dad, so I can only assume her last name has changed as well since I don’t believe Parker was her original last name since that’s Ellis’s and Forest’s last name.
It’s as if she exists but doesn’t at the same time.
I hit send on my text to Ellis and finish up lunch with my mother.
And the second as I feel like I’ve gotten away with murder, just as I walk her out of the elevator and into the lobby toward her waiting car, she grabs my arm, pulling me close, off to the side and into a quiet alcove.
“You know what taking over the foundation means.”
My heart starts to ricochet in my chest. This is what I was dreading. More than agreeing to be CEO. “Don’t start.”
She slips her hand into my elbow, her discomfort showing despite her cool Abbot-Fritz exterior. “It means it’s time you find love. Settle down.”
“And if I don’t?”
“My boy, you’ve all but sworn off love. It’s not a healthy way to live. But it’s more than that now and I know you’re aware of it. You’re the eldest. You’re taking over the foundation. That makes you the future of the Abbot-Fritz name, which is why it’s important for you to marry.”
“No thanks.”
A deep sigh escapes as she shifts her stance, checking over her shoulder to make sure no one is nearby before turning back to me. “By the time I was your age, your father and I were already married and had the six of you.”
“That was you and Dad.”
“Your father and I were arranged, and we fell in love. It does happen, you know.” She laughs lightly, but there isn’t much humor to it. “An arrangement is certainly not the worst idea in the world, especially if you continue to refuse to meet or date or get involved with anyone.”
I throw her a look that demands she stop this line of discussion now, but all she does is parry back at me with a smile that’s meant to disarm me.
“After what that woman did to you by breaking into your home, I understand why you’re not interested in trying to meet someone.
But marriage is the next step. It’s the safest way to secure our family’s future holdings and name.
The wealth and stability of generations. So what do we do if you’re unwilling?”
I fold my arms and glare down at my mother. “We get over the fact that I have no intention of marrying anyone. Especially not some debutante princess.”
She all but rolls her eyes at me. “I was a debutante princess, Kaplan. We’re not all evil, and the right woman could be a partner. Not an adversary. Who knows, maybe you’ll fall in love with her too.”
Fat fucking chance. I lean back against the wall, running my hands through my hair. “It’s antiquated.”
“It’s more modern than you think. Especially for people like us. We would find you someone agreeable. Someone smart and lovely who comes from a comparable family.”
Agreeable. Comparable family. I just threw up in my mouth.
“Yes, it’s important for you to find someone, darling, but I’m also worried.
” Her hand grips my forearm as she stares up at me with troubled green eyes.
“I’m a mother, it’s what we do. But your brothers and sister have all found love and happiness, and while I want that so desperately for you, I worry that the press are going to be all over you with this new position you’re taking.
Women too. The wrong women. If you’re successfully matched that will take some of the pressure off you. ”
She has a point on that. I know she does.
Being the new CEO of the Abbot Foundation will come with a barrage of attention from the press and from women.
Likely the wrong women as she said. I’m the last billionaire bachelor of my family and we’re Boston royalty.
Sought after the way no others in this city are.
My eyes scan the lobby, shifting from person to person as I think. Suddenly curious about my runaway bride since I know she’s staying here. Which in having this conversation feels absurd. I turn back to my mother.
“I’m not getting into an arranged marriage.”
“Then tell me you’ve found someone,” she quickly interjects, hope twinkling in her eyes.
Seeing her children happily coupled up is Octavia Abbot-Fritz’s greatest wish and happiest joy.
And I’m the last one standing. The romantic holdout.
And I’ve made it clear, I have no plans on changing that. Not now. Not ever.
I’m not anti-love or even anti-relationships. I just don’t want that for myself. I like being alone. I like living my life how I choose to live it. Not to mention, I have some well-earned trust issues. Sweat is forming on the back of my neck just having this conversation.
I’ve seen what my siblings have gone through. The misery and pain love has caused them. If that isn’t enough of a deterrent, I’ve had a plethora of women come after me, desperate to haul me in like a prize fucking tuna. They want my name. They want my money. They want to be Kaplan Fritz’s wife.
And they’re ruthless in their attempts.
Time and time again, my instincts have been proven correct with that. It’s been getting to the point where I’ve stopped sleeping with anyone. Stopped dating altogether. I don’t even care if that makes me grouchy and a miserable prick to be around.
The risk is just too high.
I’m a famous checkbook these women are anxious to get their greedy, conniving hands on.
Begrudgingly, I say, “I haven’t met anyone.”
She squeezes my arm, her eyes bleeding into mine. “Please think about this then. Marriage is not a death sentence.”
My breath quickens, and I don’t answer.
“How’s about this? You promise to think about this conversation with an open mind. We’ll give it a little time and see how things go with the foundation. Then we’ll readdress and if you still haven’t met anyone you’re interested in being with, we’ll investigate alternatives.”
“Let me walk you out to your car,” is my only response as I place her hand back in the crook of my elbow and lead her through the lobby.
But just before we reach the hotel entrance, the overhead heater just outside the door hitting us and making my already overheated skin itchy, I say, “I love you and I’ll think about what you said but thinking about it won’t change my mind. ”
“As long as you promise to think about it, for now, that’s all I ask.”
I kiss my mother’s cheek and say goodbye. Her driver helps her into the car, and then they pull away. My hand grips the valet ticket in my pocket, but instead of handing it over to the man, I head back inside the hotel, straight into the lounge on the first floor.
I need a minute after all that.
My hands run through my hair and across my face as I replay our conversation.
The idea makes me sick. Marrying someone, especially like that.
I understand her concern. I’d be a fool not to.
But I just… argh. No. No way. Settled on that, I push thoughts of it away.
It’s not difficult when a flurry of white passes me, heading up the stairs toward one of the event spaces. A bride, laughing, smiling, happy.
But it’s not my bride from this morning and I hate that I wish it were.
I don’t know what I’m doing here, looking for her, thinking about her.
Clearly, I’m the one insane. An incredulous grin hits my face.
Bianca is here in this hotel and I’m grateful as much as I’m frustrated, I don’t know her last name.
What would I even do with that? Would I ask the front desk to call her room?
For what purpose? To make sure she’s okay… or to see her again?
After that conversation with my mother, what would be the point in that?
But… what does she look like when she’s not done up like some Stephen King version of a bride? Her large, full breasts. The paleness of her skin. Soft bee-stung lips. Her long, long glossy hair and dark eyes.
Jesus. What is wrong with me?
It’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten laid. I should not be sitting in a hotel bar hoping for a glimpse of some woman who not only just ran from her wedding but also wouldn’t shut up for two seconds simply because she managed to stir something inside me that has been dull and flat.
I just have too much on my mind. Too many things I’m juggling. That’s all this is.
I pull out my phone and text my brothers Luca, Landon, Carter, and Oliver, as well as our little sister Rina, informing them that I am now the new CEO of the Abbot Foundation. That Mom is asking me to consider an arranged marriage. If that doesn’t require a night out, I don’t know what does.
Standing up, I slip my phone back into my pocket and head straight for the exit of the hotel. I’ll never see that woman again and I’m better off for it.