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“Why? I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Nope.” She pushes her plate away and then meets my eyes. “You have moreimportantthings to focus on.”
The will. Themarriageclause. I still have no ideawhatPa was thinking. “Seen Clifford?”
“Nope. But I assumed he’s crawled inside Gran’s ass, and I had no desire to look for him there.”
I shudder at that imagery. “Do me a favor and don’t tellhimthe cum story.”
“I’ll tell him I shaved it to match my feminist pussy.”
“The American in me hates that word.”
“And the Brit?”
“The Brit in me wonders what makes a pussy feminist?”
“It’s the teeth, darling.” Elle pats my arm. “Tear an unwanted cock to shreds.”
“Have you been hanging out with frat boys again? You’re mouthier than usual.”
“Lots of toxic types at the office. Their brains can’t handle it when a pretty girl speaks sailor.” Unlike me, Elle is putting her university education to good use.
“So I assume you do it all the time.”
She hums. “I heard Mom and Dad talking about Darcy earlier.”
I try not to groan. “I’m surprised they haven’t locked us in a cupboard together yet.”
“It’ll be coming.You’re almost thirty, Émile. It’s time you settle down, Émile.Clifford The Perve is ahead of you—” I snortbecause there’s no way my parents would call Clifford that. “Oh! And the new one they’re sure to add:don’t you want your money? Blah blah blahhh.”
“It’s not like he’s engaged either.”
Elle’s gaze snaps to me. “You didn’t see?”
“See what?”
But the look on her face is easy to read. “The giant rock on Martha’s finger. He’s been in negotiations with her family formonthsnow.”
Wow. Never in my life did I think he’d find someone rich enough to marry who’d actually go anywhere near him, let aloneaccepta proposal. Sure, women find him attractive, but it’s his wandering hands and slimy words that act as a repellent. What poor soul agreed to be saddled to that for their entire lives? And how much goddamn money exchanged hands to make it happen?
“Well, now they really will make my life miserable about settling down, won’t they?”
“Maybe it’s time to give Darcy a shot?” Elle suggests.
Even I can acknowledge there’s a lot of sense to her words. We’re friends in the loosest sense of the word, he’s sensible, hot, probably would be a decent husband. But marriages aren’t a fairy tale in this family. They aren’t a product of love. They’re a product of many months spent laboring over income statements, while our lawyers assess assets and draw up contracts, before the engagement is announced in The New York Post.
I don’t want a part of any of that.
Fucking Clifford.
“So what did the letter say?” Elle asks.
“Haven’t read it yet. I want to wait until I’m alone later. It’s clearly only meant for me and I want to be able to get through it without being interrupted or pestered by nosy gossips.”
“How did you manage to be such a softie inthisfamily?” She squeezes my hand. “I guess I better—Ah, fuck.” Elle drops and slides from her chair so quickly, I barely see her move. All I hear is her hiss from beneath the tablecloth. “Clifford.”
