CHAPTER 5
MEADOW
I almost stick my fingers in my ears to check for some sort of obstruction. Because there is no way I heard Rook correctly. Did he really tell me he has to be married to gain his full inheritance?
And he has a year to get married.
“Do you have any other blood relatives?” The question slips past my lips before I can stop it. “You don’t have to answer that,” I’m quick to add, “it’s really none of my business.”
“The only one left is my dad,” his voice is so small, his words barely reaching me. “He is married.”
I open my mouth, but then snap it closed. He doesn’t owe me answers to questions I have no business asking. This is the longest we’ve held a conversation that isn’t about work since the first time we met.
It would be a better idea to ease him into my level of curiosity.
His brown eyes find mine and I can see the pain there, but I suspect it has nothing to do with grief this time. I have to squeeze my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching for him.
“He’s not a good guy,” there’s steel in Rook’s voice this time.
“He would take my family’s legacy and sell it off piece by piece.
He never respected his parents and the farm.
He turned his back on both before I was even born.
” He huffs out a laugh that contains zero trace of amusement.
“I never even knew my mother, but heard she was some drug addict that my father got mixed up with and got pregnant. I was less than a year old when he brought me here and handed me over to my grandparents.” His eyes slide closed, as if the action could help protect him from his past. “They didn’t even know I existed until he showed up.
He left me here and while I could be bitter about it, it was the best decision he’s ever made. ”
“I’m glad you were given a home where you were shown love, support, and given a legacy that matters,” my voice is small, but the words still land with force.
He nods and his voice cracks slightly as he starts to speak, “The best thing my father ever did for me was leave me with my grandparents. I can’t even imagine what my life would have been like if he hadn’t done it.
I would say it was self-less, that he did it for me, but he did it for himself because he didn’t want the responsibility of having a child. ”
“His reasons don’t matter,” my voice is hard and firm. “The end result is what matters. You grew up in a loving, stable home. He may not have intended to make your life better, only his own, but you benefitted more than he’ll ever understand.”
His shoulders slump slightly and his eyes turn glassy.
“I hated my father for a long time,” he admits.
“When I was a kid, he would show up sometimes, but only when he wanted to or wanted to pretend like he was some prodigal father returning for the benefit of his child. It was always an act. It was never real.” Something changes in his voice; it hollows out slightly with his next words, “The worst time was when he showed up with a woman on his arm and introduced her to me as my new stepmother.”
His lip curls and I don’t need to ask to know how the meeting went. Was it because of her? Or because of his father? My gut is telling me it’s probably both.
“The performance he put on was epic. I was maybe six or seven and I really thought my dad was back, that I’d have a dad now. But it didn’t last,” his voice takes on a wistful quality for all the things taken from him, “it never lasted.”
“And now he might get the farm,” my words scrape against my throat.
I hate the idea of someone undeserving getting the farm Rook and his family has put so much into. Sure, he might be blood, but it sounds like Rook’s father would be the worst thing to ever happen to the farm and the land.
There are too many people selling off their land because they can no longer keep their farms and ranches going. It’s an epidemic that people don’t even know about.
When Rook first walked me through his business plan, I wondered if the changes he was making would help the farm become more sustainable. It’s hard to evolve in an industry when changes are slow to come, while demand increases but the output remains the same.
“Yeah,” he sighs, “now he might get the farm.”
“Unless you get married?”
Saying those words out loud has my heart sinking. The thought of Rook marrying someone, even just to enable him to take ownership of his family’s farm, hurts. I hate this feeling.
I want to reach up and rub my chest, but I stop myself. Barely.
The thought of him marrying me is fleeting because I push it away. There’s no way. Right?
“Unless I get married,” he echoes me, and runs his fingers through his hair.
I want to do the same, but I keep my hands on my lap.
His eyes go unfocused as he looks across the room without really seeing it.
“The problem is that I’ve been solely focused on building my business for the last few years.
When I’ve allowed myself to think about it over the last few days, there’s only one person I would marry and that’s you. ”
His eyes widen right along with mine before his gaze focuses back on me. The way his mouth opens and closes would be hilarious if the words he said weren’t worming their way into my mind.
Did he really just say the only person he could imagine marrying is me? Is this real life?
What the fuck is going on?
“Okay,” I breathe out, the words of my heart completely bypassing my brain, “I’ll marry you.”
The moment I realize what I’ve actually just spoken out into the universe, my hands come up to cover my mouth. If I could pluck each word out of the air I would, but since I can’t do that, trying to block any more from escaping is about all I can do.
“I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” Even with my hands over my mouth, it seems I’m incapable of controlling my words. This must be happening because of Rook; he’s messing with my filter.
That’s not a good thing.
Something shifts on Rook’s face; his expression going from shock to something softer, something that almost looks like hope. My stomach flips and makes me feel all out of sorts for a moment.
As much as I want to try to walk those words back, to take them away and hide them in a dark corner that memories don’t touch, I also don’t want to take them back.
Because the thought of Rook marrying someone, anyone, other than me makes me nauseous.
I don’t think I could watch it happen and not lose myself.
It might not make a lot of sense, but I know it’s true.
He studies my face carefully and something mischievous fills his gaze. I’m not sure what he sees, but his smile starts to grow slowly.
“That’s perfect,” his words are deliberate, like he’s placed them at my feet with careful fingers. He looks around the room for a moment, but there’s no regret on his features. “You’ll have to move in here,” he says it like it’s simple, easy, “at least while we’re married.”
I ignore the last part of the sentence because I can’t think about the end of our marriage, even if it is inevitable.
This is an arrangement. All I’ll be doing is helping Rook get what should have been his in the first place. I’ve never heard of such a clause, but I certainly can’t judge his grandfather’s wishes.
“You can change,” his voice breaks slightly on the word before he clears his throat, “anything in the house you want to change. It’s been like this since I first came here and it could use some updating.”
I reach over and cover his hand with mine, the action feeling so natural that I’m not even aware of it until I feel the warmth of his skin under my hand. “I don’t need to change anything,” I assure him.
“No,” he shakes his head and his brown eyes find mine, “I want you to. I’ve been thinking about it, but I have no idea where to start. I want to make this place ours, since you’ll be my wife. You deserve a place that can feel like a home, considering the amazing thing you’ve agreed to do for me.”
Right. Because this is a transaction, of sorts. A favor. A gift. It’s not a real marriage.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly while trying to build a wall around my heart. It would be far too easy to allow real feelings to get involved here. But that would be dangerous.
And it would make the ending of this even more painful. I can’t let that happen.
He turns his hand underneath mine and laces our fingers together. There’s something lighter about him now. I did that; my help did that. There’s a plan now, one that puts him on the right path to getting his farm.
Because that’s what matters now.
Not my heart.
“We should probably talk about terms and what paperwork we’ll need to ensure your farm is protected when,” I pause, hating what I’m about to say and try again, “when it ends.”
His eyes sharpen slightly, but I’m not sure why. “We’ll have to be married for the next year,” his voice drops and he mumbles something under his breath.
“I can do that,” I say the words, but my voice wavers slightly.
His eyes soften and then he’s standing and pulling me up with him. “I think you deserve a tour. That way you can think about where you want to put your things or what you want to move or replace.”
My mouth opens, but I don’t get the chance to protest before Rook is leading me from room to room. I can hear the pride in his voice as he shows me the farmhouse which has been in his family for generations.
Even though I stepped into the kitchen earlier to grab drinks and plates, I didn’t get the chance to really poke around. As much as I wanted to take it all in, I forced myself to be quick and not be overly nosey. It was incredibly difficult, but I managed.
Barely.
There are a few empty pots on the windowsill, and I step closer to them, my gaze curious. I can imagine them growing a few herbs, but it looks like they haven’t been used in a while.
Rook steps up next to me, his voice holding a reverence that stills my breath, “Grandma used to grow herbs in there. We tried to keep them alive after her death, but we couldn’t.
” He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle.
“It’s kind of ironic that a farmer couldn’t keep a few small herb plants alive. ”
I make a humming sound before stepping away and taking in the rest of the kitchen. “I love it. It’s perfect just the way it is.”
Rook seems to stand up a little taller, like it’s a relief that I love the space his grandmother called home. I don’t need him to tell me this was her space. I can feel it. There’s a warmth here, and an accumulation of things used over the years to feed a family. To feed this family, this legacy.
Every room has the same feeling to it. This house has been lived in. It has been used. There’s laughter within the walls.
The more I see, the more it feels like I’m in a daze. I was planning to stay for a while and maybe even talk about my fall menu, but I think I need a little bit of space.
As we make our way into the living room, it feels like the walls start to close in on me slightly.
“I think I should head home. This has been a lot.” The laugh that comes out of me is just slightly hysterical.
“I need to think,” I quickly add on with my hands raised, “not that I’ll back out or change my mind. I just need to process.”
The smile Rook gives me is soft. “I get it,” he murmurs. “Do what you need to do. I’ll call you in a few days about how you want to do the ceremony?”
“Oh,” I breathe out, “yeah.”
The ceremony.
“We can keep it simple and small. I’m more than fine with a courthouse thing,” I tell him.
It’s the truth too. I never really imagined the wedding when I was a little girl. It was the marriage, the partnership and love, I craved. I don’t care about the performance of the ceremony.
Or maybe that’s the wrong approach because none of this is real.
I shake my head slightly, needing to ignore those thoughts, all thoughts really, for a few moments longer. When I’m alone, I can let them out to play. Not yet.
I make it to the car after a brief hug with Rook, but this whole thing distracted me and I couldn’t fully enjoy it. Once I’m pulling away, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
I mutter, “What the fuck am I going to tell the girls?”
Shit.