Chapter 24 #2
“What? There is nothing wrong with wanting those things, Kaplan Abbot-Fritz .” She emphasizes my last names with a sarcastic sneer.
“Your parents married for those very reasons, as did mine. I’m not afraid to admit it.
It’s what all women should want from a husband and that doesn’t make me old-fashioned.
It makes me smart and ambitious. If it’s love or even sex you’re after, I understand how this all works.
Every John needs a Jackie by his side even if they have a Marilyn in secret. ”
I choke on the sip of water I was taking. Bianca is certainly more of a Marilyn—her stunning curves and lack of bullshit politics pop into my mind—but she’ll never be a secret like that. She’ll never be a sidepiece.
“Millie, I trust you’ll be an excellent Jackie for someone else someday, but that won’t be me. Ever. I came here today to ask you to stop texting and calling me. To inform you that I’m seeing someone. Someone I care about deeply.”
Anger mixed with self-assurance start to curl like the spreading of a disease across her face.
“Meaningless,” she asserts dismissively.
“If you cared at all for this woman you claim to be with, we’d have heard about her before.
Regardless, I wouldn’t be so sure that this won’t happen.
In fact, it’s already too late. It’s currently in discussions with our lawyers.
Contracts are being drafted as we speak. ”
“Contracts I never agreed to, nor will I ever sign.”
And truthfully, I’m not sure how true that is.
I don’t think my parents would do that behind my back.
They’re a lot of things and they ask a lot of things from me, but they’d never do something underhanded like that.
My mother has asked time and time again if I have met someone.
She suggested an arranged marriage because she was worried for me. Not because she requires that of me.
“Again, I’m sorry if you’ve gotten the wrong impression, but this isn’t happening.”
She takes a hasty sip of her champagne only to tip the glass back and finish it off when she realizes no one is watching her.
Setting the glass down, she dabs at her mouth with her napkin only to toss it hastily on her empty place setting, leveling me with a look that says she means business and isn’t accustomed to being brushed off.
“I’m thirty-two years old, Kaplan. I need this to happen now. I can give you children. Heirs. My last name and breeding as part of their pedigree. We can be the power couple everyone looks up to and adores. Is jealous of. Think of that!”
“That’s never been something I’ve sought, and you’d only be disappointed with me as a husband. On paper it all seems great. In reality, it would be anything but. Again, I’m sorry. I wish you only the best and have no doubt you’ll find someone who suits your desired lifestyle better.”
“You’re such a fool if you think that’s how this will go,” she shoots out harshly. “I’m a senator’s daughter. There has already been talk about us.”
“So what? Who gives a shit? Certainly not me. I could give a fuck and fucking you or giving you heirs is not something I’ll ever do.” I’m out of patience. “I came here as a courtesy. To my mother. To you. But I’m fucking done with all of it. And that includes you.”
“You don’t seem to get it. It’s too late to back out now. You can fuck your little sidepieces and groupies all you want. But you will marry me, and this deal will go through.”
Done with this conversation, I stand, slip out two one-hundred-dollar bills for taking up the table and only ordering a glass of champagne, and then hold my hand out to her.
It’s how I was raised, and she should consider herself lucky I didn’t leave her sitting here like a lost doll in a sea of monsters.
She eyes it harshly for a moment before plastering back on her manufactured smile and slipping her hand into mine, allowing me to help her up.
I drop her hand immediately and head for the door. “Wait,” she cries. “It’s pouring rain. Please at least walk me to my car so I don’t get soaked. I don’t even have an umbrella.”
Or I can let your awful, social climbing, moneygrubbing, elitist ass be an adult and walk yourself to your own damn car.
With a grunt of dismay, I open the door to the restaurant, pop up my umbrella, and cover her with it, because I’m a fucking gentleman she does not deserve.
The two of us take off, running for her waiting car.
Her driver sees us and springs into action, flying out and opening her door for her.
That’s when the first flash comes. And it’s not lightning.
“Kaplan! Millie! Over here.” Flash. Click .
Millie’s head snaps over and she smiles her brilliant billion-dollar smile, throwing the waiting press a wave.
“Kaplan, did you pop the question? When’s the big day? How do your parents feel about your romance?”
“You called the press?” I hiss in her ear, ready to snap her bony little body like a twig but only after I throttle her to death. “You set me up.”
“Thank you! You’re so kind.” She gives a Miss America wave.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Her head whips back over, an evil glint to her eyes despite her unflappable smile. She leans up and presses a kiss to my cheek. “See you soon, darling.”
Fucking bitch.
And I never use that term. Ever.
I shake my head, abandoning her to her driver, hoping she gets soaked and looks like a drowned rat in some of those photos.
Racing back to my car, I jump in and slam the door behind me.
The press are still there. I can feel them like cockroaches hiding in the walls and instead of losing my mind in front of them, I peel out.
The butt of my hand smacks the steering wheel. “Dammit. Goddammit! That fucking bitch.”
That’s going to be everywhere. Us together. Her kissing my cheek.
Shit.
I make it back to the hospital, anxious to go and find Bianca and yet not. I need to talk to my mom. I need to sort through my thoughts on what the hell I’m doing. With Bianca. With my life.
I don’t have time for lunch. I don’t have time to check on Bianca.
An emergency surgery on a newborn comes in and that trumps everything else.
I manage to shoot her a text toward the middle of the afternoon telling her that Slash will drive her home and with the nasty weather, she’s not to go to her studio.
I get a middle finger emoji I no doubt have earned. But I can’t worry about her in the middle of Chelsea in that warehouse right now either. For once in my life, I leave it at that. I don’t argue. I don’t fight. I don’t even reply.
Instead, I round on my patients, fix tiny broken hearts, and try my damndest to figure out what the absolute fuck.
Just as I start losing my mind, my sibling text stream starts blowing up, Oliver telling us he’s heading out to the compound to see our parents. Asking if anyone wants to join.
Perfect , I think.
I text back, telling him I’m in and asking if he’ll come and to meet me here.
I get a thumbs-up emoji and then get back to finish my day.
Forcing myself not to think about Millie.
About Bianca. About anything other than my job or my life as it was before all this happened.
Hoping it will all be okay once I speak to my parents.
Only I know nothing about this will be that simple. It never is.