Page 95 of Broken (Broken 1)


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“Kay,” another piece of cucumber goes flying.

“And clean up that mess,” I order and strut out of the room, ignoring the small hard lump of food unknown that hits the back of my head. I don’t look either, I won’t give their quiet laughter the satisfaction of seeing me react.

Back in my bedroom I grab my bag and open the top drawer of the dressing table. Sure enough there is a small roll of notes. Way more money than I need. Sigh. He needs to stop doing this.

I unroll the notes and stuff them in my back pocket. It’s then I notice a folded envelope with my name on the front.

I take it out and turn it over, the corner has something heavy weighing it down, making the paper bend when I hold it at an angle.

First I dig for the source of the weight and blink in astonishment when I see the ring. A gorgeous gold back with a cluster of diamonds spiralling around a larger one in the centre. My hands tremble as I take out the note. What is this? Why is there a ring in here?

My heart clenches as I unfold the note, the ring still in my hand.

My eyes scan over the short yet neat paragraph.

I’ve been doing some thinking and I believe that at this point it would be in our best interests to get married. I don’t expect an answer right away. Think about it. I want my nephew to have a stable home and my last name. I also don’t want people thinking badly of you because of the circumstances. There’s a lot I can offer you, there’s also not much in the ways of my being a husband but I’ll try. I promise to keep you happy and you have my word that I’ll respect, care for and protect you and my nephew until the day that I die.

Nathan.

I drop the ring like it’s burning hot, the note too. My brain forces my body to propel me backwards, my eyes wide as fear and panic races through me.

Why would he ask me this?

I glance down at the ring already on my finger and notice how simple it is in comparison to the ring Nathan has gifted me with. His brother’s ring. The one Caleb put on my finger.

How can he even… why would he… what is wrong with him? He can’t honestly think I’d go for this?

Marriage means a lot of things, sex being one of them. I could never do that. Never.

He can’t honestly want this… can he?

I feel sick.

“Are you ready?” Sasha shouts.

“C… coming!” I call and tuck the note and ring back into the envelope before thrusting it back into the drawer.

This won’t ruin today, I won’t let it. Nathan is just being noble, even though he has a weird way of showing it. It’s not the eighteenth century, or whatever century that shit like this went down. It’s not even necessary in any way shape or form. I don’t care what people think of me. Caleb was the love of my life, they can go fuck themselves if they think I wasn’t his.

He chose me, he died beside me. In my stomach is half of him.

Damn it Nathan! What are you doing?

Why would he ask me this today of all days? Maybe so I could talk it over with my friends. Screw that. I’m not looking to see their reactions, that’s something I’d rather miss.

I head down the stairs, fanning my face to rid it of the nervous perspiration that seems to be beading on my skin. “Let’s go,” I push open the door, my bag tucked close to my side. “There isn’t much to see in the village. But there is a nice clothing store. The women there are amazing at making clothes to fit you perfectly.”

“Wow.” Sasha remarks dryly. “How lucky for you.”

I shrug, “I like it, I like the people and the coffee shop and what few restaurants they have, which yes, are all pub restaurants. They’re cosy. Like something out of a movie.”

“I envy your quiet life,” Sasha again says this dryly.

Tommy opens the car door for me, forcing Sasha to get into the back. Which I’m grateful for because once in the back I doubt I’d be able to climb out again. It’s only a three door car. The front seats slide forward for access to the back.

Definitely not going to happen.

Sasha doesn’t seem to mind though. She leans forward between our seats and messes with the radio. Good luck getting that out here.

She gives up after ten minutes and turns on a CD, I direct Tommy to the village.

We stop at the clothing store first, Sasha cringes at almost everything. It is very… formal I suppose but it’s warm and comfy.

“EBay, Christ. Ever heard of it? Just because you’re pregnant and living with a bunch of fogies doesn’t mean you have to dress like one,” Sasha whispers, I stifle my laughter and allow the lady to guide me in the back for measurements. She takes them in seconds, her memory clearly better than mine. After pointing at a few different things I pay at the counter and meet Tommy on the sidewalk outside.

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