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“And so when real problems came up, like his drinking and failing out of college”—I should have written this down; it would have been much easier than explaining such a complex situation—“his parents blamed me and threatened to cut him off financially. But I couldn’t control him, I barely knew him anymore. But I tried, and of course he got angry with me. But he told me that his family wanted him to sign away some land they had purchased in his name. He didn’t tell me why, but I did my own research and realized his parents want to make a fortune off the land. Of course they care for their son, but they’d been planning his life for him for years before the accident, and when their plans were ruined, they came up with a Plan B: Get the money from me and sell the land off. With the money, they could build another hospital and plaster their family name on it.
“They wanted him to give away his land to them, like his loyal brother had, but Amir refused. I remember the day I had to drag Amir out of his father’s office. He was livid, screaming that his dad was a fraud, a liar. He didn’t speak the whole way home, but that was the day I realized I married a friend, not a lover.
“On paper, we had everything right. Our fathers were business partners, our siblings were engaged, we were both well traveled and from wealthy families. The problem was that the small things I loved, he hated, like baking. It would be fine if he had no interest in baking but at least ate the food. But he didn’t; he wouldn’t even try what I made half the time. His passion was real estate, which I had absolutely no interest in whatsoever. Our families were tied together with money and egos, and the two of us fell into a game we didn’t even know we were playing. How perfect would it be if we rebelled and got married without a huge wedding? Our materialistic families would be pissed off, and the thrill was worth it all. We conspired together, but we never had much in the realm of intimacy, physical or emotional.”
And after all that, as I’m feeling breathless at having said so much to him—more than I’ve said to anyone on the subject maybe ever—all Landon says is, “And what does this have to do with you now? Are you separated or not?”
Landon is young. Too young to worry about separations and marriages and legal documents and land deeds. All he knows are his feelings. He doesn’t understand the power struggle within a rich family. He’s untainted, and here I am staining him.
“Because.” I drag a deep breath through my lungs. “Now that he can’t sign anything himself, they expect me to just hand over the land. But I won’t. Amir doesn’t owe his family anything, and I don’t either. They would have already unplugged him and let him die if it wasn’t for me.”
Landon jerks his head toward me. He’s struggling to put two and two together.
Why didn’t I just tell him? Now that it’s out, it doesn’t seem so bad. I wish everything were simple. My problems probably sound like rich-girl problems, but that doesn’t make them any less relevant in my life.
“We were never happily married. We were childhood friends who made an adult decision we weren’t prepared for. It was easier to stay married, but we were seeing other people. Well, he was.”
“I’m missing a piece of this.” Landon rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “How long has he been . . .”
“In care? He has an in-home system now. His own nurse at his house.”
“Your house.”
“Technically, yes.”
“How else is there to be? Technically you’re married and have an entire part of your life that you kept from me until someone else forced the truth to come out. Why didn’t you just tell me any of this? I would have been able to deal with it, with you. But now everything about you seems fake and dishonest, and I don’t really know what to think.”
I swallow. “I know. I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
Landon turns his body to me in a swift move. His eyes are harsh. “No. You didn’t drag me into anything. You kept me on the outside until you couldn’t anymore. God knows how long you would have kept me in the dark.”
I shrug. I don’t have an answer to that.
“Did you not think you could trust me with this? I really don’t get it.”
