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“This was my mother’s favorite room too,” I say, remembering her.
Clementine turns to face me with sadness in her eyes. “I never knew her. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Bad things happen to good people all the time.”
“Well, I wish bad things only happened to bad people.”
“Ah, I’m marrying a dreamer.” I step out of the room, leading Clementine further down the hallway to show her more of the downstairs living space. “Tell me what else you dream about?”
“I dream I don’t have to do this.”
“You should be thanking your lucky stars you get to marry me.”
The glint of awe and wonder from the house in Clementine’s eyes is replaced with anger. “Is that so? And why should I be thankful I get to marry someone I don’t love?”
I stop and glance around at the luxurious furnishings, the famous artwork, the pristine upkeep of the house. “Is this not to your liking? Poor little Clementine has to live in a huge ass estate.”
“But, I didn’t choose to live in it. I don’t like having my choices taken from me.”
I turn back around, heading to the staircase, continuing my tour, whether she’s following me or not. I don’t care anymore. I didn’t get a choice either.
And I always get a choice.
She’s quiet as we ascend the wide stairs up to the third floor.
“This will be Tennyson’s room,” I say, entering a large loft-style room. A canopy bed sits in the middle of the room, with a slide from the loft leading down onto the floor beside it. “The stairs to the loft are over this way.” I move to the corner to show her the staircase.
“This room is amazing.”
I lean against the banister to the staircase. “It was my room growing up.”
“Really?” Clementine spins around. “I can’t imagine you as a child. I didn’t meet you until you were almost fourteen.”
“Yeah.” I rub the bottom of my chin as I watch her walk around my childhood bedroom.
She takes it all in, slowly touching my old science trophies on the shelf. “Hopefully, we can build a shelf with Tennyson’s trophies.”
I don’t say anything. The child is four, and we have a long way to go before he’s winning science awards.
I see the moment Clementine realizes she’s made plans for a future where we will no longer be together. “Well, you know what I mean,” she corrects herself. “We can fill it with his colorful artwork from preschool.”
“Would you like to see our room?”
Her eyes widen to the size of a silver dollar. “Our room?” She steps back. “We won’t be sharing a room, will we?”
There’s ten bedrooms on this property. Over half of them are never used. Clementine will very well be having her own bedroom, but I like seeing the heated red travel over her cheeks.
Knowing it’s anger, but wishing it was a blush instead, I continue to toy with her, because I can. “Why wouldn’t we share a room? You’ll be my wife.”
“Let’s just sign the papers and get this over with. I can see the room on our wedding night.”
She leaves before I can tell her she will indeed have her own, and I follow behind her, enjoying the sway of her hips, and the slight bounce of her tight ass as she walks. Her hair is long, past her shoulder blades, and I imagine wrapping it through my fingers.
I think back to when she came over as a teenager. Her father, the head groundskeeper, was working late for my grandfather. Clementine entered into the foyer, giggling at something Ronin was saying. She had tiny freckles on her nose.
She doesn’t have them anymore.
We head back downstairs to the study in silence.
