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“Are you really going to propose to that girl you’ve known for what, a month now?”
“That’s the plan.” I’m a little annoyed that Nora’s actually going to give me crap about this. At least she isn’t the one who has to get married.
“She’s barely more than a child.”
“Oh, please, Nora!” I groan as I hang up my jacket and turn back to her. The whole night had been spectacular, and I don’t need my sister screwing up my good mood. “If you have a better idea, please inform me. If you bring up an arranged marriage, I’ll have Kate pick out a line of suitors for you.”
“Last time this family had a marriage arranged, Micha ended up dead in the woods.”
Mood officially ruined. I can’t believe she actually brought that up. My hands clench into fists. I grit my teeth as I stomp off to my office, but Nora follows me.
“Are you going to tell me you didn’t see the connection? I know Pops refused to, but I thought you had more sense!”
“What do you expect from me, Nora?” I violently grab a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and manage to slosh liquid all over my desk as I fill a glass. “You want me to declare war on Franks? How long do you think the family would last, huh? We can’t even keep up with the fucking Ramsays!”
“Who says we’re not keeping up?”
“That bitch showed up at the fucking funeral!” I yell at her, wondering just who all we were going to wake up with our racket. “She just walked right up to me like she owns the whole fucking town, not just the west side. No respect. No fear. And whose fault is that?”
“I don’t know, Nataniele. Whose fault is it?”
“Mine!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not supposed to be doing this! I’m not supposed to be the head of the family, and she knows it! Pops never should have turned the seat over to me!”
“Turned it over? You’re not making any sense. Who else would be there if not you?”
“Pops should still be there. Or Antony. You. Kate. Anyone but me.”
Nora presses her lips together and huffs a breath out through her nose. She moves closer, pours her own glass of bourbon, and then pulls me over to sit next to her on the couch.
“I know this isn’t what you expected, dear brother,” she says in a soft voice. “None of us expected this. It’s too soon. We’ve lost too much in too short a time. That isn’t your fault. I miss them too, you know.”
I roll my eyes. If she thinks I
miss her departed husband, or if she considers bringing him into this conversation, I’ll blow a gasket.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, waving my hand around in the air as if that will make my point. “What matters now is how I make this work going forward. The first thing I have to do is make this work with Cherry.”
“Why?” Nora places her drink on the table and sits back against the arm of the couch, folding her arms over her chest and giving me that pointed, “I’m not going anywhere until I get a satisfactory answer out of you” look.
I close my eyes for a minute as I try to form words that will get my sister off my back. I know what she’s trying to do—trying to get me to understand my own motives—but I just don’t need the psychoanalysis right now. I have other matters on which to focus my energy.
“Cherry is the perfect answer,” I finally say when I open my eyes. “She has no idea what’s going on in this town, and that’s to my benefit. She’s falling for me, exactly as I want her to, and by the time she does understand, it will be too late to back out.”
“Too late?”
“Once we’re engaged and the wedding plans set and paid for, there’s no way she won’t say ‘I do’ at the altar.”
“Why not?”
“She’s too kind.” I laugh. I can’t help it. “There is no way she would back out once everything is booked. She doesn’t have it in her.”
“Nataniele!”
“What, Nora?” I’m pissed now. I hold my glass of bourbon steady, the muscles in my arm tense. If she starts calling me by my full name, I’ll toss my bourbon at her.
