Lost it that one night when those assholes from high school partied in the cemetery, dancing on my family’s graves. Even sent a few of them to the hospital. Hadn’t meant to, but I blacked out, and my size turned me into something dangerous.
Swore I'd never let it happen again.
Mrs. Walsh huffs, eyes looking me up and down. “You have no value. No worth for this family. Your parents left you with so little after they died. Then again, it's not like they had much from what Mr. Blake found. And now, there’s nothing left.”
Connor's hand slams down on the table, rattling the silverware. “Watch how you fucking talk about my husband.”
Husband.
He usually calls me Henneman. Then again, we’re with his family, and the agreement was that we act like a loving couple. That comes with standing up for me, I guess.
His mother laughs under her breath. “How precious.”
“The point of this dinner is to inform you of the measures we’ll take to protect Walsh International.” His father’s eyes shift off me to Connor. “You will get an annulment, then Benedict Callahan.”
“No.”
His mother sets down her wine glass with a thunk. “Veronica understands her role. Something you obviously need to learn.”
Role?
This is his life.Hislife.
But they’re treating him like he’s nothing more than a pawn.
Same way he’s treated me.
I bite into my cheek, folding my hands under the table.
Staff members appear with the main course. But I'm not hungry. My stomach is in knots, tight enough that I couldn’t eat if I wanted to.
Mr. Walsh’s forefinger taps the table. “How much money did my son offer you to get married?”
I clear my throat. “None.”
If he only knew what his son actually did, how alike they really are, maybe he would be proud of Connor.
Mrs. Walsh drops her napkin, as if it isn’t good enough for her anymore. “I know this is all fake. Did you two even consummate your marriage?”
Line crossed. I’m done.
I sit taller, shoulders back, chin up, palms flat on the table. “We are married. The rest isn’t up for discussion.”
Mr. Walsh’s eyes narrow. “So, my son’s pretending—”
“Not. Up. For. Discussion.”
“You never mentioned you were queer, Connor.” Mrs. Walsh takes a slow sip of wine, eyeing him over the rim. “Maybe you should’ve shared that little tidbit. Educated us. This whole thing could’ve been avoided.”
“You want to know about same-sex relationships, Google it. The internet exists.” I drop my napkin on the table and push back my chair. “Let's go. We're done here.”
Connor’s lips quirk into a half smile as he stands, then follows behind me as we walk out of the dining room.
I’ve overheard Connor telling his friends he’s not into men. Even Veronica mentioned to her father that she wasn’t sure either.
But he said my name when he . . . when I walked in on him. We kissed. Ground against each other like we couldn't stop. Don't know if he's done that with another guy before. But if he's figuring himself out, his parents don't get to shame him for it.
They don’t get to use it against him. Against us.
