Chapter 11 Complications
COMPLICATIONS
RORY
I was confused when I woke up. Where am I? I glimpsed the dim bedroom, noting the giant bed I was curled up in, the fancy wallpaper, the immaculate curtains. It looked like a room at the Four Seasons, but I’d never been to a Four Seasons.
And then I remembered.
I’d sold myself to a billionaire.
Where was Rhodes Barrington? The other side of the bed was empty, but it had been slept in. Panicked, I peered under the covers: I was still in my skirt suit. Relief washed over me, even as my emotions tumbled inside.
I slept next to a stranger last night.
Who happens to be my fiancé.
Now, the morning after, I grasped the full impact of what I’d done. I’d traded away the next five years of my freedom for an astronomical sum of money, more than I’d ever dreamed of. My grandmother’s beloved farm was saved. I’d be able to care for Josie and Bo for the rest of their lives.
And yet, it was a hollow victory.
I cared little about money. I valued what it could do for my family—I’d be a fool not to.
But what I’d always valued most was my ability to be there for my brother and sister.
When my mom left, their entire world could have been shattered.
But I refused to let that happen. I took them to school, made their lunches, made sure that we had dinner as a family every night, and took them to the playground.
They missed our mom, but I provided them with the stability and love of a real family.
I’d promised I’d always be there for them.
But now I was going to break their hearts, even as I saved us all from financial ruin.
There was a knock on the door.
“Yes?”
Philips opened it a crack. “I have coffee for you, Ms. Harris. And baked goods.”
“Thank you, Philips.”
The butler, immaculate in a fresh tuxedo, wheeled in a tray.
He poured delicious-smelling coffee into a large mug.
With a flourish, he removed a silver lid to reveal a tray-full of muffins, bagels, scones, and croissants.
“From the Chef. He’s French—and so excited you’re here.
He said you can eat carbs because you are young,” he said, eyes sparkling.
“Ha. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Philips smiled and bowed. “Mr. Barrington has requested your presence in his office in one hour. I will send one of the maids in after you’ve eaten to help you dress.”
“What? I don’t need help getting dressed.”
He arched an eyebrow. “At Barrington Manor, we dress. In other words, every day is a semi-formal occasion. Suits for the men, day dresses or tailored pants for the women.”
When I gaped at him, he held up the tray of baked goods. “Just focus on the treats. There is much good to be had here, even with all the formality.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Philips.”
“Of course.”
Once he’d gone, I grabbed my coffee, filled it with cream, and greedily sucked it down. It was delicious. Next, I took a bite of what appeared to be a blueberry-cornmeal scone (to die for) and a coconut-raspberry muffin that literally melted in my mouth.
“Oh, my God. So good.” I tasted everything, polishing off four items, moaning when my stomach got too full.
My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it off the nightstand. It was my grandmother.
Heart pounding, I answered. “Hi, Grammy!” My voice was unnaturally bright.
“I got a call from the bank this morning.” She sounded upset. ‘They said the mortgage was paid off!”
“That’s right,” I said, unsure why she sounded so upset. “Remember I told you about that internship? I’m making way more than I thought.”
“Rory Geraldine Harris. I might not know much, but I know no internship pays two hundred thousand dollars up front!” She started crying. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re really doing, huh? Is it drugs? I never thought you’d turn out like your mother… You’ve always been such a good girl…”
“Grammy, no. Please, listen to me!” I waited until she stopped crying so hard. My heart was breaking—I’d never heard my grandmother cry like that. “It’s nothing like that. I’m not my mother. You know that. You know me.”
I took a deep breath. Since I’d signed the contract, I knew there was no backing out. I’d have to tell my family the truth, at least part of it. “The thing is—Grammy, I lied about the internship.”
“I knew it!” she wailed.
“It’s not anything bad,” I said, quickly cobbling together a narrative. I’d never been a good liar; it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible. “I met someone, Grammy. He’s really great.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me? Why hide it?”
“I didn’t know if it was going to work out. I didn’t want to say anything.”
“It’s not like you to keep secrets,” she said. “I don’t like this. And I don’t understand what you having a new boyfriend has to do with my mortgage.”
“He’s rich,” I blurted out. “Really rich. I told him about the trouble we’ve been having, and he insisted on paying the bank off.”
“Rory…” My grandmother sighed. “You’re a good girl. I’m sorry about what I said before. You’re nothing like your mother.”
She sighed again.
“But?” I asked.
“But you’re too trusting. You haven’t been allowed to live your own life. I feel so guilty about that. You’ve been taking care of the kids, you’ve been taking care of me—”
“I love you, and I love Josie and Bo,” I interrupted.
“I know, honey, but it hasn’t been fair to you. You haven’t lived your own life. You don’t know what the world’s like. How people can be. How men can be, especially with a beautiful, young, sweet girl like you.”
“It’s not like that. He—Rhodes, that’s his name—he’s serious about me.” I took a deep breath. “We’re engaged, Grammy. We’re getting married.”
“What?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but he asked me to marry him, and I said yes. He’s going to take care of us. Me, you, Josie, Bo—we can get the farm fixed up, I can pay for college, I can buy you a new car—we won’t have to worry about money ever again. I promise.”
“Oh, Rory.” She sounded like her heart was broken. “Do not throw your life away because of something some man is promising you. We don’t need the money. We can live without it. What we need is each other!”
My eyes pricked with tears. It was too late to turn back. I’d signed the contract, and Rhodes had paid the mortgage. My fate was sealed.
“We still have each other,” I said, biting back my tears. “You can come visit all the time, and I’ll come see you. I promise you this is for the best.”
“No, it’s not.” She paused before asking, “Can you please just come home?”
“No, Grammy, I can’t. I’m getting married. Rhodes and I love each other,” I lied. “This is going to work out for the best—I promise you.”
“Honey,” she said, sounding weary, “don’t make promises you can’t keep. I have to go, the kids are calling me. I love you. Just remember you can always come home—no matter what.”
“I love you, too.”
I dissolved into tears as soon as I hung up the phone.