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My father wasn’t a man who was used to being denied anything he wanted. And with his insistence that I marry Barrett King, he had proved to me beyond any shadow of doubt that he was willing to put his own self-interests before anyone else’s. Even his daughter’s.
When I got home from school on the Friday after Valentine’s Day, Mom caught me before I could slip upstairs to my room.
“Cordelia, I’ll be sending Poppy upstairs soon to help you dress and get ready. We’ll be going out to dinner with the King family this evening.”
“What?” I blurted, my stomach twisting.
I hadn’t spoken to Barrett once since the day I had caught him with his hand up that girl’s skirt. Since the day he had proved himself to be as callous and self-serving as my father. And I had absolutely no desire to sit next to him in a fancy restaurant and pretend not to hate him. I had missed spending Valentine’s day with the boys I loved, and that had been bad enough. This would just be adding insult to injury.
“You heard me,” she said dismissively, turning away. “Be ready by seven-thirty sharp.”
I gritted my teeth as I stared at her retreating back. Tension still bubbled between her and my father, and I was starting to think this was going to be the new normal.
As hypocritical as it was, considering his reaction when I’d told him about Barrett, my father would never forgive her for cheating on him with Mark Jemison while he was in prison.
And of course they wouldn’t divorce each other. She needed his money, and he needed to maintain the illusion that we were a functional family. That everything under his roof was perfect.
It’s not though. It’s all falling apart.
Poppy came up to my room just as Mom had promised she would, and spent over an hour arranging my hair into an elaborate updo and doing my makeup. Then she helped me into a dress that’d been picked out and left in the closet for me.
It was a routine that was so familiar I knew every step by heart—but it still felt utterly wrong. It felt like putting on a costume for a role I no longer wanted to play, and I tugged uncomfortably at the strapless dress as I stepped out of my room.
A driver took us to the restaurant, an exclusive establishment located on the top floor of one of the buildings downtown. I was sure my father had chosen it to prove that he could afford the best of the best again. My parents were both dressed to the nines too, and everything about this evening seemed designed to impress.
This was a calculated power play, and once again, I was being used as a pawn by my father as he negotiated with Sebastian King. I was sure they were still working out the details of the marriage arrangement; that was the point of this dinner, not a celebration of “young love.”
As we stepped into the space, which was surrounded on all sides by floor to ceiling windows that allowed diners to overlook Baltimore below, something shifted between my parents. They stepped closer together, and instead of the tight, strained expressions they wore around each other at home, they both put on easy smiles.
Barrett and his parents had already arrived, and all three of them rose to greet us. His mother took my hands and kissed both of my cheeks, and I had to work hard not to jerk away from her touch. Sebastian’s gaze flicked over me before moving to Dad, and Barrett caught my gaze and gave a smile that made my skin crawl.
“Shall we?” Sebastian gestured to the chairs around the table.
I ended up sitting between my father and Barrett, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Dad had chosen a seat next to me on purpose. It felt like he was keeping a close watch on me as the adults settled into bland conversation and the waitress came by to take our order.
My stomach clenched, and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, a flush of heat creeping up my chest. Between the way Barrett kept intentionally brushing up against me and the sidelong glances my dad kept shooting me, I felt like I was under a microscope.
Trapped.
Pinned.
Helpless.
Our food was delivered, and I tried to force down a few bites, but it turned to sawdust in my mouth. Something was building up under my skin, an agitation I couldn’t shake off or tamp down.
“I’m thinking early July for the wedding,” my father was saying, smiling jovially at Sebastian King. “I know it’s young to be getting married by today’s standards, but I see no reason to delay.” He glanced at Mom with such an adoring look that even I almost believed it. “After all, we were married young. When it’s right, it’s right. There’s no fighting it.”
“Yeah, and how’s that working out for you now?” I muttered, scoffing a little.
Dad stiffened beside me, his reaction immediate.
Fuck. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. I hadn’t meant to speak any of my angry, bitter thoughts aloud. The words had slipped off my tongue before I could stop them.
And the entire table had heard.
Mr. and Mrs. King gazed at me with expressions that looked torn between curiosity and shock, and Barrett had narrowed his eyes. Maybe he was wondering if this was the sort of back-talk he was in for when he became my husband.
The insane, reckless urge to show him that he’d be in for that and much worse rose up inside me, and unbidden, my mouth opened again.
