36. Cassie
CASSIE
I feel dazed as I return to Tor in the entryway.
His father’s horrid last words still linger beneath my skin, making me feel ill.
That he would say that about his own son…
I want to grab Tor and hug him.
I guess I never considered that there was likely a favorite son.
Now that I realize there was and it certainly wasn’t Tor, I guess it makes sense.
Tim was always the easier of the two of them, and as has been made abundantly clear to me over the past year, everybody loves the easy one.
Not Tor. He likes a challenge, and I suppose he is a challenge, but he’s worth the effort. In my opinion, he’s better than Tim in every way.
Apparently, their father didn’t agree.
Still, I can’t help but think there’s a difference between favoring one son over the other and wishing one had died in the other’s place. What Carson just said to me was so awful, I think it makes me dislike him more than everything he’s done in the past year.
Protectiveness swells up inside me when my gaze meets Tor’s.
I can tell he’s still uneasy, and so is his mom.
Even Tessa seems a little more watchful, and it occurs to me that maybe the fear I felt in the room before I went to the study was because they knew Carson wasn’t as willing as they are to play along.
They knew he might say something terrible to me, and with the threats Tor apparently made…
Myra’s terrified.
I don’t like it.
Maybe she doesn’t deserve my sympathy—she certainly hasn’t had any for me until her son told her she had to—but I’m not like them, and I don’t want to be.
There was never cruelty in me before Tim tore my world apart, and now that Tor has managed to repair the damage…
I want to let go of any whisper of it that developed over the past year.
I want to let go of the pain and the anger. I want to be free.
And with Tor, I know I’m finally safe enough to do that.
He reaches for my waist as soon as I’m close enough, his gaze searching mine for trouble. I let him pull me in, and I loop an arm around his neck, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “I promise.”
Tor’s lips tug up slightly as he gazes down at me, and the oxygen supply seems to return to the room.
When I glance at the other two women, I notice the clear relief on Tessa’s pretty face, the hopeful smile returning to Myra’s, but also the nervous glint in her eyes as she gauges her son’s reaction.
At last, it occurs to me that maybe their fearful feelings weren’t entirely about Carson.
Tor’s grip on me tightens a little, and I consider what might have happened if my answer had been different.
Maybe he was controlling their anxiety levels.
The realization crystallizes the clearest distinction between the twins that I never noticed before.
Tim was always able to captivate a room.
But Tor can hold a room captive.
___
Tor is seated on the couch in my living room, and I’m draped across his lap, both of us still dressed up from dinner.
“I love you,” I say, planting another kiss on his lips. “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you. I love you.” I plant two more in quick succession, and he smiles. “What am I up to?” I ask, pulling back enough to meet his gaze.
Feigning confusion, he says, “Damn, I forgot to keep count. Guess you’ll have to start over.”
I gasp in feigned surprise, clutching my chest like a scandalized debutante. “These must be those predatory lending practices I’ve heard about. How dare you take advantage of a helpless woman like this!”
He grins, tightening his arm around my waist and pulling until I switch positions and straddle his lap. “I’ll show you predatory practices,” he says, leaning in and kissing my neck.
I grin, tilting it to give him better access, loosely resting my arms around his neck. “You can predatorily practice on me anytime,” I tell him.
“I might take you up on that.” He kisses my neck one more time, then his grip relaxes, and he lets me ease back a little to look at him. “So, what’s the verdict now that you’ve met my parents?”
“You were right about your dad. He is an evil bastard.”
Tor nods.
“But you were right about your mom, too. Is she a magician? Because I felt like I loved her by the time we left, but I know that’s not true.”
He smirks. “Yeah, she’s something.”
“It’s so weird, I felt like I could see where you got elements of who you are from both of your parents.
I didn’t really consider that before because I liked you and I didn’t like them, so I honestly tried really hard not to even associate you in my mind, but…
” I sigh. “I don’t know how to explain what I just experienced. I feel a little mindfucked.”
This doesn’t seem to surprise Tor.
“Your dad didn’t even say anything for most of the dinner, but it was like… she…”
He nods, not even needing me to finish my explanation.
“I think she might be a witch,” I conclude.
He smirks. “Maybe.”
“I was definitely under her spell.”
“Like mother, like son,” he teases, then his hands slide beneath my dress, lazily squeezing my ass. “What did my dad say to you in the study?”
I don’t want to hide things from Tor, but I’d die before telling him what his father said to me.
“Not much. I just wanted to thank him. He left before I even thought to, and what he managed to do for me…” I shake my head, relieved I can tell the truth again.
“I can’t believe it, Tor. I didn’t think anybody could make that happen. I thought it was too late.”
“It’s never too late,” he tells me. “There’s nothing I can’t fix, Cassie, so if anyone ever tries to fuck with you again, I want you to remember that. Whatever you need… Bring it to me. I’ll handle it.”
I tighten my hold on his neck, leaning closer so I can kiss him. “I love you,” I tell him, and this time I’m not being playful.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs against my lips. “More than you know.”
___
It’s Stepford night in the Pritchard-Walters household.
I spent the morning grocery shopping and preparing for it. I did laundry so I could wear the same dress I wore to dinner last night. Even though I’m in my own house and don’t need to wear shoes, I wear my floral mesh heels as well because I’m committed to the bit.
Tor crossed the family patriarch and convinced his father to do the impossible for me, so that man deserves a fun Stepford night.
I told him I’d come to his family’s Fourth of July bash, too, and that I’d bring something to make his mom happy, so I bought some extra groceries to give myself a few options—well, I bought them with Tor’s credit card. It’s his family’s event, after all.
When Tor arrives at the apartment, I meet him at the door with all the enthusiasm of an overly dutiful housewife. I ask about his day and moon at him like every word he says is the most interesting thing I’ve ever heard. I clasp my hands and bat my eyes to really sell it.
Finally, I make him comfortable at the candle-lit table and serve him the dinner I made. While we eat, I gaze at him lovingly, as if I have a shrine devoted to him in my closet.
To his credit, he never gets creeped out.
After dinner, he retires to the couch to find the movie on streaming. I clean up and fill two glasses full of crushed ice for the fresh lemonade I made earlier.
“Found it,” he announces, pulling the movie up on the screen, then setting the remote down while he waits for me.
“Oh, you’re just so technologically savvy,” I tell him, sweeping my hand across my forehead. “How do I keep my panties on around you?”
He smirks, watching me sashay into the living room with two glasses of lemonade. I put mine down on the coffee table because I plan to make a production of serving him.
“Here’s a nice, cold glass of my Stepford Strawberry Lemonade.
It’s always such a hit with the girls. They just love it,” I say with a big smile, doing my best impersonation of over-the-top Southern belle hospitality.
I hop right on the couch next to him, curling my legs behind me and running a hand over his chest. “If women were allowed to have ideas, maybe I’d write a cookbook, and this would be the first recipe,” I add with starry-eyed wistfulness.
Then, with idea-extinguishing cheerfulness, I conclude, “Ah, well. My place is with my husband.”
Tor has pretty good composure when he wants to, but he’s relaxed now, grinning at my ridiculous Stepford wife portrayal.
I stand back up and move in front of him, then I sit myself on his lap, looping an arm around his neck. “Do you like my lemonade?”
“I love your everything,” he assures me, but since he hasn’t had a taste yet, he takes a sip now. “It’s delicious,” he confirms.
“Not too sweet?” I ask, gazing at him with doe-eyed concern, as if my whole world will crumble if I didn’t make the lemonade exactly to his liking.
“Just sweet enough,” he says, bracing a hand on my back and leaning in to give me a kiss.
“Mmm, good. You know how I love to please my man.”
“Consider him pleased,” he says, amused. “You ready to start the movie?”
“Whenever my husband is ready.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “We’re married now, huh?”
“Everyone in Stepford is married,” I inform him. “There are no Stepford girlfriends. Only wives.”
“Makes sense,” he says with a nod, picking up the remote and starting the movie.
Sighing wistfully, I make a show of reaching toward the coffee table for my drink. “Oh no. It’s too far for my dainty fingers to reach. I need a big, strong man to help me.”
Tor shakes his head, pulling me to the side and leaning forward to grab my lemonade.
I gasp with delight, as if he rescued a cute kitten from a tree. “My hero!”
I think it’s safe to say Stepford night is a complete success.
When the movie’s over, we head to the bedroom where Tor takes off my dress and I do as he says—though to be fair, that’s how sex goes most of the time for us.
Afterward, as I lay cuddled in his arms, my entire body relaxed, I caress the side of his face and gaze up at him, no longer playing a role. “Did you enjoy Stepford night?”