Chapter 8
CONNOR
Iblame the idiot shit that’s coming out of my mouth on the fact that Mildred looks incredible in the dress I picked for her, she smells like vanilla and strawberries, and it’s discombobulating. Beautiful, smart, sassy, and slightly broken—she’s all my favorite things.
Despite her signing on the dotted line, I still feel bad for what she’s about to endure.
But she agreed to the terms, and that means tolerating events with my family for the foreseeable future.
Once the engagement party and the wedding are behind us, we can avoid my parents for the most part.
Although, it will be nice to have someone to attend these gatherings with, even if she’s only here because she has to be.
“Wow. This house is…” The crease in her brow and the pucker in her lips gives away her distaste. It’s the opposite of her awestruck expression when she dropped off the books last week at Meems’s.
“Monochromatic?” I supply.
“Sterile is the word that popped into my head, but yes, that’s accurate,” Mildred murmurs.
I cough to cover a laugh.
She glances up at me with a small smile.
I bend until my lips are at her ear. “My mother thinks her decorator is a revolutionary.” I hate everything about this house. Although that has more to do with childhood memories than the lack of personality or color.
Her grip on my arm tightens. “I’m nervous.”
I turn to face her, my hand sliding up the inside of her arm to cup her elbow.
“You have every right to be. Just pretend you like me enough to be my wife, and if that’s a challenge, remember that every month you endure with me has a fat paycheck at the end, and this afternoon will only last a few hours. ”
She narrows her beautiful eyes. “That was an exceptionally shitty pep talk, Connor.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a pep talk.” Money aside, I’m the clear winner in this unfortunate arrangement. I smile tightly. “It was a reminder and a reality check. Just stay by my side, and you’ll be fine.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t have to fight me like you do everyone else, Connor. We’re on the same team here.”
“Remember you said that after you meet my parents.” I guide Mildred to the living room, which is a white box with white furniture, leading to a white deck with more white furniture.
“It’s like walking into a blizzard. Why are your parents so opposed to color?” Mildred asks.
“It’s a reflection of their personalities,” I deadpan.
“By that logic, your house will be an homage to dark horses?”
I gaze down at her. “You’ll find out when you move in with me.”
“Can’t wait,” she mutters.
I chuckle. “You’re cute when you lie.”
She turns her head, bringing our lips mere inches apart. Her eyes spark with mirth. “And you’re pretty even when you’re being an asshole.”
I laugh. She’s so full of fire, something my family can’t and won’t appreciate. She’s perfect. “I think I’ll enjoy having you as my wife.”
Her expression remains placid. “Currently that makes one of us, but you have lots of time to change my mind.”
“Mm... I’m doubtful that will happen.” I roll my shoulders back. “Shall we get this over with?”
“The sooner the better.”
I cover her hand with mine as we enter the living room. In part to keep her from bolting, but also to ground me.
“Did I miss the sad beige children memo?” Mildred runs a hand over her hip as she looks around.
I nearly choke on a laugh.
“We’re a little ostentatious for this crowd, Connor.”
“We’re supposed to be the center of attention, darling.”
“Well, mission accomplished, I guess.”
“Meems is on our team, too, though.” I nod in her direction.
She stands out among my family in her bright teal, floor-length, sequined gown. The rest of the men wear black suits and their partners pale, neutral-tone dresses.
A lovely, authentic smile curves the corner of Mildred’s pretty mouth. “God, I love her so much.”
“That’s how I locked you into this with me,” I murmur.
Mildred’s devastation matched my own at the possibility that Meems’s life might be cut short.
I should feel remorse for using that against her, but I don’t.
Mildred exudes the same warmth and light as Meems, and making her my fiancée gives me more opportunities to be close to her.
I’m hopeful more time with Meems will make up for the nightmare that is being married to me.
Meems swats my brother-in-law’s hand away when he tries to help her out of the high-backed white chair. “I’m old, not made of glass.”
Mildred releases my arm and steps away from me. I instantly want to draw her back to my side.
But Meems is already pulling her in for a hug—and not the kind my family is so fond of, barely making physical contact, air-kissing each other’s cheeks.
No, Meems wraps her thin arms around Mildred and squeezes her tightly while Mildred carefully folds her in, like she’s precious.
I swallow the discomfort that comes from watching people share genuine affection.
Meems whispers something to Mildred that makes her toss her head back and laugh. It’s carefree, and pretty, and loud, drawing the attention of the hyenas.
I move in again, wanting to protect my future bride as my brothers-in-law’s judging gazes lock on Mildred.
My sisters, Portia and Isabelle, stand on either side of their husbands, wearing matching curious expressions.
I’ve never introduced them to a girlfriend, so the fact that I suddenly have a fiancée has raised some questions.
But they’re easy enough to explain away since I always have been and always will be the outsider.
“You’re just so beautiful.” Meems holds both of Mildred’s hands in hers and turns to me, her approval clear in her smile. “You picked the most perfect dress for Dred.”
“You picked this dress?” Mildred asks.
“Meems had the final say,” I explain.
“He took me shopping earlier in the week,” she adds.
“Well, aren’t you the sweetest,” Mildred says, her earlier sarcasm missing in her tone.
“You two are adorable.” Meems is beaming.
My youngest sister is the first to break rank from the family huddle.
Isabelle approaches, wearing a nervous smile.
She is the epitome of the perfect daughter.
She married Julian, the son of one of my father’s business associates.
Julian works for my father and enjoys all the perks of marrying into a family with billions of dollars, including my trophy-wife sister who never disappoints my parents.
I accept Isabelle’s air kisses as she places a hand on my shoulder and whispers, “Mother will be displeased with your suit choice.”
“I’m sure she’ll believe I picked it just to be difficult.” I picked it so I would match my bride-to-be and Meems, since we’re our own little team. “Where are our parents, anyway?”
“They had to take a call. They’ll be back soon, I’m sure. Are you trying to be difficult?”
“When am I not?”
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and taps her chin. “I’m trying to recall a moment, but having difficulty,” she rebuts.
“At least I’m consistent.” I’ve always been the one who doesn’t fall in line.
It made things tumultuous growing up. I was forever causing problems, and my sisters were the standard I could never live up to.
My mother was perpetually keeping the peace, trying to make me into something I could never be—compliant, easy, the perfect, dutiful son.
“I don’t know why you always have to push their buttons.” Isabelle sighs.
“I don’t know why you don’t.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not just your own life you make harder, Connor.”
A wave of guilt washes over me. I’m sure she’s been on the receiving end of our mother’s wrath since I announced my engagement.
It’s bad enough that I play professional hockey for a living.
Now I’m marrying someone outside the approved social circle.
My father will likely be angry, which puts pressure on my mother, who downloads it to my sisters, whose husbands must deal with their stress.
It’s a vicious, depressing cycle, and in the end it’s always the same.
No one understands me, and I’m the problem with no solution.
Arguing with my sister won’t make today better for either of us. “Let me introduce you to my fiancée. I think you’ll love her.”
She side-eyes me. “She’d have to be a sass machine to handle you.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” I skim the back of Mildred’s arm to get her attention.
She turns with a warm smile. “You must be Connor’s sister. Isabelle, right?”
Isabelle’s face lights up in a matching smile. “Yes! That’s right.”
“Connor has such wonderful things to say about you,” Mildred lies smoothly.
“Really?” Isabelle’s surprise sucks, but we’re not all that close.
“Absolutely! It’s so nice to meet you!” Mildred’s voice pitches up, and she pulls my sister in for a hug.
Isabelle once again looks surprised, but she gently pats Mildred’s back and gives me a quizzical smile.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mildred,” Izzy says once they part.
“You can just call me Dred.”
Isabelle’s eyebrows rise. “Dred?”
“It’s what my friends call me.”
“Oh, right. That’s cute.” She takes Mildred’s hands in hers and glances between us, like she’s trying to fit us together. “It’s just so nice that Connor has finally brought someone home.”
“Izzy,” I warn.
“What do you mean?” Mildred asks.
“Well, he’s never brought anyone to meet us before.” Isabelle pats my arm. “He’s always been so private.”
“I wonder why,” I grumble.
Mildred hugs my arm. “Obviously you were waiting for the perfect woman to come along, and it was me.”
I smirk down at her. “Obviously.”
Isabelle grins. “I like her.”
“Me, too.” It’s not a lie. I enjoy Mildred more than I should.
The Terror begin to arrive, bringing the stuffy down several notches. Though most of them are here to support Mildred, not me, I’m thankful they showed up. Having the people she cares about here to insulate her will make this manageable.