Chapter 4 Hattie #2
I take a deep breath, steeling myself to be honest without coming off too abrasive.
“Last weekend, I thought maybe if I said yes to your proposal, it would make everyone around me happy. That’s all I wanted, but now that I’ve taken a step back, I’m realizing that this all feels rushed.
Like you’re kind of . . . pushing this on me. ”
Saying it out loud fills me with embarrassment. These are the type of revelations most women make before they commit to something. Not after.
I hate that I internalize things so slowly.
“Okay,” he whispers. “This is my fault. I should have run the invitations by you, but you mentioned so many times that wedding planning made you anxious. You said you wanted quick and painless, right? I remembered that. I want this to be easy for you, not hard. That’s all I was trying to accomplish. ”
I sigh, appreciating his earnest attempt to save me the trouble. And he’s right that I’m not a fan of the planning process, but I don’t think he understands why. I look away from the list to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. They’re fiery compared to his apologetic tone.
“Nothing about this feels right,” I admit. “That can’t be a good sign. Someone is going to end up really hurt if we don’t reconsider this whole situation.”
“Don’t stress so much, sweetheart.” As usual, Marcus is quick to try saving the conversation from turning into an intense argument. “Try hoping for the best instead. Optimism is a very powerful thing.”
“Yes, it is. But you’re not hearing me.” I tilt my head back and try not to freak out.
“I said yes for all the wrong reasons, and I’m sorry for doing that.
I could have avoided this by being truthful with myself and with you from the jump.
I even took the entire week to think it through and make sure I wasn’t just overwhelmed or a little nervous.
” I’m becoming more aware of my frenzied rambling.
I try to rein it in and keep things as simple as possible.
“I know this is not what you want to hear, but I think we might be better off as friends. My dad loves working with you, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m banishing you from the ranch or anything.
I just . . . can’t marry you. My intuition says we shouldn’t be doing this. ”
Marcus tilts his head as if he’s letting my words sink in, but the way he lifts his chin at the same time tells me he’s not wavering in the slightest. “It’s okay to feel like that at first. Trust me, you’ll look back on this and laugh when the hard part is over.”
A cold, creeping sensation ripples beneath my skin. “What hard part? There shouldn’t be a hard part, which proves my point. This wedding shouldn’t be happening.”
He shrugs. “I disagree.”
“Marcus,” I grit out. “Listen to me. I don’t feel right going through with this. We are not getting married.”
“Yes.” He leans toward me with a smile that’s more sinister than I thought him capable of. “We are.”
I hate having a woe-is-me moment, but seriously, what the hell was I up to in my past life? What could I possibly have done to earn these never-ending kicks in the teeth?
I close my eyes and mutter under my breath, helplessly. “I need a month-long vacation on a very remote island.”
“I like that idea,” Marcus perks up. “I’ll take you on a trip anywhere in the world, babe. We’ll go on lots and lots of vacations, if you want, as soon as the wedding is over. I’m not calling it off, though. No matter what you say, we’re going through with it. There’s too much on the line.”
“Are you on heavy drugs?” I ask, genuinely curious at this point.
“No,” He answers, lifting his hand to unbutton the cuff on his shirt and roll up his sleeve.
“Are we finished here?” His eyes lift to mine.
“Rafe and I didn’t finish our meeting when you showed up, so I still have some work to get back to.
I’m assuming you understand the importance of that, don’t you?
I control our asset portfolio. His personal finances, too.
If I don’t stay on top of it, things could go south in a matter of days. God forbid.”
My eyes narrow. “Are you . . . trying to scare me right now?”
“Absolutely not,” he answers, rounding his desk and stepping toward the window with his hands in his pockets.
“You should cool off. Grab some lunch, hmm?” He checks his watch.
“We can try this again when you’re thinking straight.
I’ll be done here in an hour or so. That should give you enough time to—”
“I’m not in love with you, Marcus. That’s not going to change in an hour, especially not now, because I’ve never seen you act like this before. It’s really freaking me the fuck out.”
He turns away from the window and slowly approaches me. Although he doesn’t invade my space entirely, I shrink back. His features are smoothed out completely, with a deliberate blankness that’s far more unnerving than if he were to glare or begin shouting in my face.
“You already agreed, and we are moving forward with the wedding, as planned. That’s the end of it. Stop acting so naive. And watch your language.”
“Or what?” I snap, despite the self-preserving urge to tiptoe the rest of my way through this conversational minefield.
He heaves out a long, exasperated sigh. “Until today, we’ve always been on the same page. It was perfect.” I flinch as he emphasizes the word. “I don’t understand what the problem is all of a sudden. We’re a smart match, and if you keep fighting it, you’d be making a grave mistake.”
I cross my arms, but my voice doesn’t sound as confident as I appear. “I’m no stranger to living with my mistakes.”
“Maybe not.” He shrugs. “But do I have to spell this one out for you, Hattie? Rafe isn’t skilled enough to protect himself.”
Suddenly, all sensation leaves my body, and my limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. My visceral reaction seems to satisfy him, and he straightens his posture. Now that his warning finally landed with enough heft to weigh me down without crushing me, his old mask reappears.
“You’re smart, and you love your family,” he states. “So, you’ll do this.”
I can’t come up with an argument that doesn’t petrify me, so I nod weakly. He tries to take the list from my hand, but I regain control of my body in time to keep it out of his reach at the last second.
“At least let me look at it,” I test, wanting to feel out his boundaries as early as possible.
No part of me is willing to give up, but I’m standing in front of a ticking time bomb. I’m not reckless enough to set it off prematurely.
Marcus huffs through his nose. “Fine.”
My eyes land on the list immediately, darting from one address to the next as fast as possible. My lungs seize when I see the last guest. It’s scratched in with a different pen like a last-second addition. The edge of the paper crinkles between my fingers.
“Who made this list?”
“I just jotted down family members and a few of our close friends,” Marcus explains, settling back into the amicable and sweet tone that I associate with him.
I back up, knowing it’s an act. He sighs again.
“I asked your Dad and Aunt Jana to add a few. I don’t have contact info for everyone on your side.
It didn’t take long. Oh, and I sent them out earlier this week. ”
“You what?” The laugh that escapes my throat is anything but joyful or light. “This can’t be the list of people you sent invitations to.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head with a delusional smile and doubling down as if it’ll make it true. “No, it’s not.”
Marcus speaks to me like I’m a child who can’t grasp a new concept.
“Yes, it is.” Tears pool in my eyes, and to my shock, it triggers him back into damage-control mode.
Maybe he’s scared that if I have an emotional breakdown, I’ll rat him out for pressuring me.
Good. I pocket that piece of information.
“I’m sorry if it upsets you,” he goes on. “Your stress level really concerns me, and I think it’s better if you let me take the lead. You don’t have to worry from here on out.”
I shake my head again. Being coerced into marrying this man is already enough cause for panic.
The only thing worse right now is the fact that Westridge is less than an hour away.
There’s a high chance that an invitation to my wedding is currently burning a hole through the mailbox at the bunkhouse, and the conversation I was hoping to eventually have with one of its residents is going to go a whole lot differently than I’d hoped it would.
I squeeze my eyes shut and then reopen them several times. It causes white spots to pop up in my vision and makes me feel dizzy.
I toss the paper back down to the desk and look up at Marcus. My pause is meant to help me think before speaking, an attempt to address him calmly rather than lash out with a knee-jerk reaction. The beat of silence doesn’t work, though.
“Come to me before making any other big decisions like this,” I fiercely demand. “It’s the least you can do. You should have considered—”
My ex-boyfriend, I almost say.
My lips tremble as I stare at the perfectly straight bridge of Marcus’s nose and his bluish-green eyes, completely devoid of emotion. Heston’s eyes flash through my mind, a direct contrast with their endless depths of feeling.
“Fine,” Marcus says, light and somewhat apologetic.
I should stay here and reason my way through this new disaster of an arrangement that I’m being forced into.
But no matter how hard I try to keep my focus on the bigger issue at hand, I can’t stop wondering if there’s any way I could stop Heston from seeing the invitation.
It’s frustrating. I hate myself for it, because not a single problem has ever mattered more than Heston, not even Marcus’s insanity, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.
I’ve already tried countless times.
“I have to go.”
Before Marcus can stop me, I spin on my heel and run toward the door.
“Where are you going?” he calls out, hot on my heels.
My hands shake as I hurry down the hall and reach for the front door knob. “I just need to take care of something. I’ll be back.”
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll—”
His voice trails off like he’s contemplating how harsh his threat needs to be to scare me enough into keeping my mouth shut.
My stride quickens the closer I get to my truck, each step fueled by the thought of Heston getting blindsided by this.
He should hear it from me. Or, more ideally, never hear it at all.
Marcus skids to a stop just as I hop into the driver’s seat and bring the truck to life. He catches the door, preventing it from closing all the way. His look of warning is enough to make me give in to his absurd, and probably fucking illegal, terms. At least temporarily.
For a split second, I think of my dad. We’re all that’s left of our little family, and I would do anything to protect him. If I piss off Marcus right now and he pulls something, I’ll never forgive myself.
“We need to talk more about this later,” I say, buying myself some time to figure my way out of this. “I won’t say anything to anyone before then. Now, let go of the damn door.”
Reluctantly, he rips his hand away and backs up. I don’t bother searching his face for any sign that he doesn’t believe I’ll keep things under wraps. My tunnel vision won’t let me.
Once I’m on the road and force myself to take a few deep breaths, I make a phone call.
It rings twice. I’m aware of how she feels about me, and chances are, she’ll hang up once she realizes what I’m asking her to do.
But I have to try anyway. I have it set in my heedless brain that the only way to cut off this impending disaster is to prevent a single soul on that ranch from opening that envelope.
“Hello?”
“Blythe,” I say, forcing confidence. “I really need your help.”