Tristan #3
I nod, tracing the outlines of our younger selves in the photographs. Loss settles on my chest, mixed with a longing for the father I knew and the man he tried to be.
“He loved you deeply,” she continues, her words breaking the silence between us. “He made mistakes, but he always wanted the best for you.”
I look up at her, searching her eyes for answers I’m not sure I’ll find. “Why didn’t he tell us?” I ask, the pain of betrayal still fresh in my voice.
“To protect you, Tristan,” she says, although her voice wavers. “He didn’t want you to be sad. He didn’t want things to be difficult. And I think you know that.”
I clear my throat, then nod. Yeah, I did know that. It just never felt like a reasonable answer.
As I flip through the photographs, she speaks again.
“The plans he made,” she says quietly, “they weren’t just about the company or wealth. They were about your happiness too. He wanted to make sure you’d find love, that you’d be cared for.”
I pause, taking in her words. “So—Chloe—”
“He might have been trying to make up for his failures,” she says, almost to herself. “As a father. As a husband. I don’t know.”
“Mom, what are you talking about?”
“Your father wanted his sons to be with people who loved them. He told me that much.”
My eyes widen as that sinks in. His sons, plural. Not just me. “Wait a minute. Not just me? What else did he plan?”
She hesitates, her gaze dropping before meeting mine again. “Julian made engagement plans,” she begins slowly, “for each of his sons.”
My fingers slip, and I almost drop the stack of photographs. “What?”
She purses her lips, nodding.
“When will these engagements happen? My brothers… they don’t know, do they?”
She hesitates briefly, her gaze thoughtful. “Things are being set in motion,” she replies. “It won’t be long now.”
“Mom, you need to tell them about this,” I insist. “As soon as possible. You should’ve already told them.”
“I know,” she admits. “I wanted to give you time to navigate your marriage, and for your brothers to see it. I hoped they would come around to the idea. And… I still hope they might. After all, you… you seem so happy.”
My throat feels tight. “I am happy. Happier than I thought I would be.”
“And I’m so glad, Tristan.” She smiles, reaching over to rest a hand on my knee. “It’s wonderful.”
I nod, unable to find the words to respond.
I feel conflicted, to say the least. I have mixed feelings about arranged marriages.
They’re incredibly common in our social circles, and I’ve always had a disdain for the concept and for the people who allow themselves to be drawn into situations like these.
I’ve known too many people who were unhappy in their marriages, or who carried regrets for their entire lives. But I can’t deny that Chloe makes me happy. I never expected it. She used to be my nemesis, and now I can’t imagine life without her.
“Thank you for the pictures,” I say slowly, rising to my feet. “I… I should get back to the office.”
“Of course,” my mother says. “Give Chloe my best.”
“I will. Thanks, Mom. And thanks for telling me about… about Dad.”
She inclines her head. “It was a long time coming.”
Leaving my mother’s house, I step into the warm afternoon air, my thoughts rushing with what lies ahead for my brothers and our futures. I slide into the back seat of the Audi, the smooth leather cool against my palms.
I glance down at the picture on top of the stack of photographs. It’s a snapshot of my brothers and me at a pumpkin patch, our young faces full of laughter and innocence. I trace the outlines of our smiles, reminders of simpler times before the responsibilities and expectations.
As I look down at the photo, emotions move through me. Love, protectiveness, and a twinge of worry for what’s to come. And I know what I have to do. I pull out my phone and open the Thorne brothers’ group chat.
ME: Listen everyone, I just came from Mom’s. I have to tell you something, and you’re not gonna like it.
BECKETT: What’s up?
ME: Turns out I’m not the only one who Dad arranged a marriage for. He’s got one lined up for all of you.
DOMINIC: What? You have got to be fucking kidding me.
BECKETT: Yeah, no goddamn way.
REID: Please tell me you’re lying.
ME: Sorry. Heard it from Mom herself just now.
GAbrIEL: Jesus fucking Christ.
My phone continues to buzz in my hand as my brothers react to this news. All of them seem shocked. Once the shock wears off, I wonder, how will they feel? Angry? Betrayed, like I felt?
I glance up and meet my driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Where to, sir?”
“Back to Thorne,” I say reluctantly. I still have a meeting this afternoon and need to prepare some materials.
Before we pull out of my mother’s driveway, my phone vibrates again in my hand. I glance down, expecting another text in the group chat… but it’s not one of my brothers.
It’s my wife.
CHLOE: My hearing is gone. It didn’t come back like it usually does, and I don’t know what to do. I’m freaking the fuck out. What should I do?
My heart skips a beat as I read her message. Without hesitation, I type out a response, my fingers flying over the keys.
ME: Go to the doctor. Now. I’ll meet you there.