2. Freya
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Freya
Louisa’s guest was Annie Cooper, and within five minutes of arriving, Louisa had sent Annie off to the stables with Rex.
I stood in the foyer watching them go, Annie’s hand on Rex’s arm as she laughed at something he said, her blonde hair catching the sunlight like she’d been strategically lit by a professional film crew.
She was beautiful in that effortless Texas socialite way that made me feel like a potato in comparison.
And apparently, she’d known Rex since childhood. Apparently, their families had been friends for decades. Apparently, everyone except me knew exactly who Annie Cooper was.
I moved to follow them, but Louisa’s hand closed around my arm with surprising strength for a woman who claimed her arthritis prevented her from carrying her own handbag.
“Freya, dear. Let’s have tea in the garden. Just us girls.”
It wasn’t a request.
Ten minutes later, I sat across from her in the garden pavilion, a delicate china cup in my hands, watching Louisa pour from the pot like this was a perfectly normal social call and not whatever the hell it actually was.
“The ranch looks well,” Louisa said. “You’ve made some changes to the landscaping.”
“I planted a vegetable garden personally.”
“Yes, I noticed. How… practical. Having dirt in your hands.”
She made practical sound like a disease. I took a sip of tea that was too hot and burned my tongue, which at least gave me something to focus on besides the tightness in my chest.
“How have you been, Louisa? Rex mentioned you were traveling.”
“Mmm. The Mediterranean. You wouldn’t like it.” She set down her cup with a precise little click. “Freya, I’d like to discuss something sensitive with you.”
Here it comes.
“I’m listening.”
Louisa folded her hands in her lap, every inch the composed matriarch of a billion-dollar dynasty. “This arrangement between you and my son has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”
“Arrangement?”
“Let’s not pretend, dear. We both know how this marriage came about. Your father’s debts. Him finally agreeing to sell his ancestral ranch in exchange for Rex marrying you. A convenient solution that’s become rather inconvenient.”
My jaw tightened. “Is that what Rex told you? That I’m inconvenient?”
“Rex doesn’t tell me anything about you. He doesn’t have to.” She smiled, thin and sharp. “A mother knows her son. And I know this isn’t what he wants.”
“What does he want?”
“Someone more fitting.”
The words sank in wrong. I set down my teacup before my shaking hands could betray me.
“And let me guess. You have someone in mind.”
Louisa’s smile widened. “Annie’s family has been close to ours for three generations. She understands Rex’s world. His responsibilities. His position. She would make an excellent partner for a man of his standing.”
“Rex is already married.”
“Marriages end.” Louisa reached into her handbag and withdrew a slim leather folder. “I’m prepared to be quite generous, Freya. Thirty million dollars. Enough to start over somewhere far away. You could go back to school, become the teacher you always dreamed of being. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
I stared at the folder like it was a snake about to strike.
She’d done her research. She knew about my teaching dreams, the ones I’d mentioned exactly once at a family dinner six months ago.
The ones my father had called beneath me when I was eighteen, back when our family still had money and status and my future seemed mapped out in debutante balls and advantageous marriages.
And she definitely knew about the prenup, the one that said I’d walk away with nothing if I was the one who tried to end the marriage. That time when Rex and I were still strangers.
“You want to pay me to leave your son.”
“I want to offer you an opportunity. Rex deserves someone more… suitable. Someone who can give him the life he was born to live. And you, dear, deserve a life that’s actually yours. Not one you stumbled into because your father has a gambling problem.”
My hands stopped shaking. Something cold and solid settled in my chest, the same feeling I got right before I told off my father’s creditors or stared down the bank manager. I knew how to handle bullies. I’d been doing it my whole life.
“Keep your checkbook, Louisa.” My voice came out steady and clear. “I’m not for sale twice.”
Louisa’s composure flickered, just for a second. She hadn’t expected pushback. She’d expected me to fold, to take the money and disappear like the gold-digger she assumed I was.
“You think you’re clever,” she said softly. “But Rex will see through you eventually. When he does, you’ll have nothing.”
“I had nothing when I married him. I’ll survive having nothing again.” I stood, brushing off my sundress like I was brushing off her offer. “Thanks for the tea. It was a little bitter, but I’m sure that was intentional.”
I turned to leave, and Louisa’s voice followed me like a knife.
“Has he ever told you he loves you?”
I froze.
Don’t turn around. Don’t let her see.
“In a year,” Louisa continued, her voice almost gentle now, “has my son ever once said those words to you?”
I had a comeback for everything. Every insult she’d ever thrown at me, every snide comment at family dinners, every implication that I wasn’t good enough. I’d deflected them all with wit and fire and stubborn pride.
I had nothing for this.
Because she was right. And she knew it. And the worst part was that I’d been trying so hard not to let it matter, and hearing it spoken out loud made it matter more than ever.
I walked away without looking back at her. Through the garden, past the wildflowers I’d planted myself, toward the path that led to the stables. My eyes were burning and I refused to let a single tear fall where Louisa might see it.
It doesn’t mean anything, I told myself. Rex shows me he cares in a hundred different ways. Words aren’t everything. Actions matter more.
But the doubt was there now, a splinter under my skin, and Louisa had driven it in deep.
I reached the garden path and stopped, shielding my eyes against the afternoon sun.
In the distance, I could see the stable doors.
Rex and Annie had just reached them, Annie saying something that made Rex throw his head back and laugh.
Then they disappeared inside together, Annie’s bright laughter floating back across the yard.
A childhood friend, I reminded myself. That’s all. He’s just being polite.
But the splinter dug deeper.