And it’s not like Ichosethis.
It’s not like I looked at Ethan and thought ‘oh yes, marrying him would be brilliant.’
Jesus, no.
Marrying Ethan Blackthorn is my biggest fumble yet. Agreeing to this ridiculous plot has to be up there in my top five blunders. Maybe even gunning for first.
I return to my stack of books, trying to think of a way out of this, even though I know how screwed I am.
That’s the deal.
I signed a contract. I’m obligated to fulfill this disaster to collect my six-figure payoff.
Which suddenly doesn’t feel like it’s nearly enough for an engagement that’s bound to haunt me for the rest of my life.
My lungs are cement.
My throat clenches and I launch into a coughing fit.
Calm.
Calm down.
Mom will make this ordeal unbearable, but there’s time to fix that.
It won’t be easy.
Telling her she’s not welcome at a place she’ll be stampeding to get into feels a bit like yelling at the TV—not just pointless, but it makes you look unstable.
The thing is, she has a way of making you feel like you’re in the wrong for opposing her.
If I ask her to stay away, she’ll huff and she’ll puff and she’ll point out my many other failures, slinging dire warnings that I’d better not screw this up, too.
She really believes if I let her manage everything, I’d be ten times more successful.
Of course, that wouldn’t involve working with books, but she’s never understood that obsession, either.
I press the heels of my palms into my eyes.
How the hell do I explain this to Ethan?
“Hattie,” Mr. Sneed snaps from behind me, his voice as sharp as always. “There’s a crazy man here to see you.”
“Crazy man?” I echo, dropping my hands and turning around.
Mr. Sneed wears a cardigan half off one shoulder and a scowl that could rival Ethan’s.
Stop thinking about him, smartass.
My boss folds his arms like my inability to process his bizarre statement offends him. “Yes. Crazy.”
“What do you mean? What’s he doing?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He throws up his hands. “Maybe because he’s offering to buy the entire store to accommodateyourscheduling conflict.” He drops his hands again and narrows his eyes at me. “Do I call the police? Do you have a stalker?”
I shake my head.
Oh no.
