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“Fine. Leave.”
Nodding, he called the rest of them out of the room.
I waited for them all to leave before walking into her room. She lay on the bed, curled up in a ball, dressed in only her robe.
“Not bad,” I said as her legs were now smooth, along with her toes and fingernails. The mask on her face made it hard for me to see how her skin was there, but I was sure it would be better. Her hair was up in rollers.
“I was waxed in places I didn’t know needed to be waxed,” she whispered, staring up at the ceiling.
“You’re welcome,” I said back to he
r, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
Tilting her head, her blue eyes, which looked so much more striking without her cat hair on her face, focused on me.
“So if I went to this Ethan the way I came here he’d think I was ugly.”
“He wouldn’t think of you at all,” I replied honestly. “For some reason women these days want men to love them the way they are naturally…while the thought is nice, in reality it means love me even if I put in no effort. Why? If you put no effort into taking care of yourself, even your own body rejects you and breaks down, so why demand that on another human being? Getting dolled up, as you put it, is only seen as negative by people who for whatever reason are unable to do so themselves. We judge books by covers. We judge restaurants and hotels by the décor. We judge. Accept it and make sure you are judged by the worth you believe you are.”
Sighing, she sat up, crossing her legs. “And by marrying him I’m worth a lot.”
“Today we spent almost a million on you.”
“What?” Her eyes went wide.
I nodded. “That million is like a penny dropped in the family vault…I only told you so you’d know that yes, you’re worth a lot.”
“I’ve hated your family for a long time.” She hung her head down. “I cursed you all every day of my life. I grew up with people who cursed you all. The Callahans, the Irish thieves, murderers…”
“Mobsters.” I finished for her.
“So it’s true.” She shook her head. “So you guys really sell drugs?”
“I own hotels,” I repeated back instantly.
And she rolled her eyes. “Yea. Yea.”
I smiled. “You’re just like my daughter.”
“You have a daughter?”
I lifted my finger for her to see the ring on my hand.
“But your name is—”
“Ms. Callahan?” I answered, nodding. “Yes. I’m Nari Callahan, the adopted daughter of Neal Callahan, Ethan’s uncle. My mother married him when I was young. He legally made me his daughter. My mother, who was once so poor she and her brother fought over food, rose to be the wife of a Callahan, a position she was often scorned for, and I was often harassed, of course only behind our backs. None of them dared say it to our faces. I knew the moment I got old enough I was never giving up my name. It was the only link I had to this family. Of course, my grandmother and cousins would always love me. However, the moment I changed my name I’d be no one again. My husband understands.”
“Ugh…” She groaned. “You know you’re the third person today who’s tried to make it seem like I was marrying into royalty or something.”
“Look around, Ivy,” I said, rising to my feet. “You are. If you struggle trying to merge the Callahan family you’ve always heard about and the one you’re seeing now, then just think of it that way. The Callahan family is American royalty. You are marrying the king. And in order to be a queen, you’ll need to get waxed in places you’ve never heard of, and get poked and prodded up and down and twice over. You’ll be expected to smile even though you want to scream and say everything is fine even when the sky is on fire…because that’s what queens do. They make beauty look effortless and fear pointless.”
As I walked toward the door, she asked, “When do I get the Callahan handbook to profound speeches? So far everyone has outspoken me, and my dad used to say I’m sharp-tongued.”
“It’ll be my wedding gift.”
Closing the door behind me before she could talk again, I glanced down at the ring on my finger and reminded myself that…
I loved my husband.
