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“Bullshit. You’re really taking that approach?” he sneers, spinning to face us with a look of utter disdain that I can almost taste the sourness of his words.
I step next to Harrison. “Why is it so difficult for you to understand that someone could actually pick me and love me?”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what this is. You can’t fathom that anyone would pick me because you always consider me to be a complete fuck up.”
“When you spend your entire existence rebelling against me and your mother, what am I supposed to think, Zoey? That you just happened to see your brothers get their trust fund and come up with a plan to get yours, too? I know you. I know your tricks. You’re more like me than you realise, and if I find out that this is all for show to get your trust fund, you can kiss it goodbye.”
I feel the blood drain from my body, each of my limbs becoming heavier and emptier at the same time. He can’t know, and yet he’s calling me out. His accusation is like two invisible hands trying to choke me, but I can’t let him win. My heart thuds erratically in my chest as I break into a sweat. My head suddenly feels like it’s full of cotton wool and I can’t form a rational thought. Those animals, my animals, they need me; they need more help than I can give right now and if I mess this up, I’ll never forgive myself.
“I’m not playing a game,” I argue, with a wobble that restricts my throat.
He scoffs, and it hits me like a burn to the skin. “You’re always playing a game, Zoey. You’re unreliable, unpredictable and irresponsible—”
“That’s enough!” Harrison erupts next to us. My eyes widen as I take in the flush of anger on his cheeks, and the fury building in his eyes. “No one talks to my wife like that.” His chest heaves and my jaw drops.
“Excuse me?” My father rears back.
“She deserves respect and if you can’t give that to her, then we are leaving,” Harrison replies calmly but sternly.
I watch my father stew on Harrison’s words, unsure if this man in front of him is serious with his outburst. And just when I think Harrison isn’t the most perfect man for defending me, he continues. “If you’re willing to apologise, I’ll talk to Zoey and see if she’s comfortable staying here. Either way, I’m giving her the decision because I respect her, and she deserves that. Your daughter is the most caring, driven and resilient person I’ve ever met and nothing you say or do is going to stop us from being together.”
His hand grips mine as he stares down at it, like he’s contemplating what he wants to say next, while I’m completely dumbstruck by the man next to me. When his eyes meet mine, everything inside my chest sparks to life because he’s fighting… for me. “Yes, we kept this a secret because we weren’t sure how things would pan out…” He pauses, taking in every inch of my face. It’s intoxicating and… confusing. “But I can safely say that I have been in love with Zoey from the moment we reconnected and she couldn’t remember who I was.” He turns to look directly at my father whilst I’m left fixated on him.
But wait, that was on the plane, or the wedding. He can’t be saying, surely not. I’m turned around because I don’t know if even I can spot the lies between the truths now. This is all to make sure our story is straight; it has to be.
One thing I do know is that Harrison Clarke, the man I married, is officially the world’s most perfect specimen. Take a bow, sir. You’ve just ruined me for anyone else. Fake or not, I’d want him in my corner any day.
My father runs his tongue along his teeth, snarling like the evil bastard he is as I tear my focus from Harrison to him. “You’re free to leave,” he sneers, and the high I felt from Harrison is replaced with a dagger to the chest from my father. A sob threatens my throat, but I swallow it down.
“Now I’m the one who is disappointed. I expected more of you, both as a father and a human being,” Harrison replies, then turns to face me, his face soft and hurt, but maybe that’s my own hurt mirroring back at me. I knew my parents could be cruel, but this is another level. He directs my heavy feet out of the living room and into the foyer. There’s a distant chatter from the kitchen that I’m assuming is everyone else, but I tune it out.
“Zoey, I’m sorry that was… I couldn’t let him talk to you like that. Are you okay?”
I nod, then shake my head as I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I just need a little air. I’ll be right back.”
All the air depletes from the house as I rush through the foyer and to the back room that leads to the garden patio. I fumble with the lock and when it springs open, the sliding door lets in a gush of fresh air that fills my lungs painfully. My chest expands and tears prickle at the back of my eyes.No, I can’t cry here. I can’t be that weak. Not now. Not now.
I let the cool evening air whisper around me as I try to regulate my breathing when two strong arms wrap around me from behind. His familiar soft, clean scent settles me. The tornado swirling inside is nothing but a cool breeze when he holds me and that realisation scares me because I know I’ll be chasing this feeling I have with him forever, and what we have was never meant to be forever.
“It’s okay, I’m here.”
Four simple words that, coming from him, calm every fibre of my being because he’s right, he is here; we are in this together. I need to lean on him. I want to lean on him. I’ve just never had a partner to rely on before. I’ve only ever had myself, and the thought that someone else cares enough about me to weather my chaotic life breaks something inside me.
I let one tear slide free. Harrison doesn’t let me go. He presses his lips to the top of my head and breathes deeply. Minutes pass as the cool air begins to nip at my skin and an involuntary shiver travels over my body. The contrast of his warmth and the cool air makes me feel like I’m in a tropical storm. “I—” I pause, not sure what I was going to say.
He presses his lips to my temple and then softly and briefly to my lips and I’m frozen, stuck in a moment that I’ve been dreaming about, unsure of what’s happening.
All too soon, he pulls back. My instinct is to lean towards him and silently ask for more, but I don’t. He flexes his hands around my waist and hums a noise that travels around my head like a siren song. He dips his face into the crook of my neck, peppering soft kisses against my flaming skin, when he settles against my ear and whispers, “I overstepped, Zoey, and I’m sorry.”
I swallow hard, still feeling the imprint of his lips against mine as I lick over them. I plead with the beating organ in my chest once more, begging it to find a calm rhythm again. “Harrison,” I say, my voice breaking. I squeeze my eyes tightly and take a deep breath. “Thank you.” I swallow the emotion lodging in my throat and look up at him. “He’s right though. I’m the black sheep. I’ll sully your name against my father. He could destroy you and your company. I’m difficult, and you—”
“—Nothing about you is difficult, Zoey.” He places both his hands on my face, forcing me to look into his deep brown eyes and my body responds by softening under his touch. “There’s no one else I’d rather be married to. You are important, and you are worthy of love.” His words simultaneously sting and soothe me because I realise I don’t think I want this to be fake. But how do I bring that up? Everything is so new and up in the air still. Tonight has just heightened my emotions, and I know I need to rein them in before I get notions of more.
I plaster a fake smile on my face for my fake husband and pretend that I’m not feeling anything other than the arrangement we made.
“I’m taking you home for a bubble bath,” he tells me, and I go without an argument because I don’t think I ever want to say no to him again.
