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This actually felt more like us. It was casual and friendly, but not sexual.
It was how we would sit in the dorms while studying at NYU. When I could pretend to be just Amelia, not Amelia Mae Astrid.
“My family is rich, but only two generations of having money rich, not old, ‘we came over on the Mayflower and we give God loans with ridiculous interest rates,’ money rich. So I don’t know everything.”
“What do you need me to explain?”
“What would happen if you just left?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re an adult. I know you probably don’t have your trust fund yet, but legally you are a grown-ass woman, and I know you have money of your own.”
“I do. A little from some inheritance.” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.
“A little to you is probably enough for a family of four to live comfortably for a few decades.” He snorted, not unkindly. “Then you have assets you can make liquid in a moment, right? Jewelry, designer purses and shoes, things like that?”
“Yeah.”
“And you have your degree. I know you don’t have any actual job experience, since you were trained your entire life to be a wife and manage a house. But you used to talk about teaching art to little kids. You have the degrees you need to do that, right?”
“Yeah, well, kind of. I would need to be certified to teach. What’s your point?”
“So, if Mother Astrid”—he lifted his pinky and talked in a ridiculous accent that I thought was supposed to be cartoon-highbrow—“has decreed that you marry this Manwarring man, and you don’t want to, what would happen if you just hopped on a train and moved and started your life over?”
The thought in full detail had never truly occurred to me. I had danced around it, thought about other women who had done it or who could. But I had never even allowed myself to dream of a situation where I could just up and leave. It seemed too cruel to think about.
“My mother would turn her attention onto Rose.” I had taken the brunt of my sister’s share of abuse, and if I left, there was no saving her.
“Isn’t that going to happen anyway as soon as your bill of sale is signed in front of the priest?”
“What?”
“Bill of sale, marriage license. In your world, it’s the same thing. But my point is once you are with your husband, isn’t it Rose’s turn?”
He was right. How had I not thought that far ahead?
What would happen if I just left? Could I do that?
No, I didn’t know how to live on my own. I couldn’t… I wasn’t that brave.
Marco must have seen the wheels turning in my head and sensed the change in my mood. He cleared his throat to pull my attention back to him.
“But back to the matter at hand. We are trying to make lover boy jealous. I don’t see how he could possibly be anything less than fuming when he finds out you are here.”
“Really?”
“Darling, you are at a café that was recently rated as one of the most romantic brunch spots in New York. You’re sitting drinking coffee under a scaffolding full of flowers. With a devilishly handsome man, who, okay, is more into men, but the lover boy doesn’t know that. More than that, he bailed on you, and you found a better option seconds later. If he doesn’t lose his damn mind, girl, I will buy you the ticket to run myself.”
“Well, when you say it like that. I mean, I ditched him but…”
“Honey, that is just going to make him even angrier.”
He cupped my cheek and brought my face close to his. From the outside, it must have looked like he was about to kiss me.
“You need to know your worth, and it has nothing to do with any bank account.”
“I wish that were true. I can put on a brave face, but at my core, I’m just a weak, spoiled little rich girl who does as she is told.”
