Am I making a mistake marrying someone who doesn’t make me feel desired?
I was insecure, thinking that if I turned him down, I might not find someone else to marry. So, I said yes to his proposal.
My motivations might be different, but my willingness to marry someone I don’t truly love is not that different from Brody’s.
Ugh. Enough. Remove Brody from your mind. Focus on anything else.A thought strikes me.
“If you don’t marry, you won’t inherit,” I feel compelled to point out.
“That’s true.”
“You don’t seem concerned.” I turn to face him.
“I’m sure, I’ll be able to find a woman who can marry me. Better yet, I could shortlist a few and have Gramps choose from them. It’s only a matter of time before I come into my inheritance.”
Of course, he’ll find another way. The man is resourceful. And when he makes it known he’s looking for a wife, there’ll be a list ofwomen a mile long waiting to marry him. My stomach sinks. My heart wilts. Damn, why does that make me feel depressed?
Speaking of… “I hope I can keep my job after this debacle.”
He seems taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“Your Gramps thinks I’m the woman you should marry. But clearly, that can’t happen now. In a sense, we are going against his wishes, and Arthur seems like the kind who doesn’t take kindly to being disobeyed.”
“Arthur shouldn’t have involved you with this discussion about my marriage. Of course, your job is safe.” He looks at me intently for a few seconds. There’s a struggle going on in his eyes. Then, as if he’s unable to stop himself, he asks, “The flowers you received that day, were they from?—”
“My fiancé, yes.” I tip up my chin.
His throat moves as he swallows. “And the wedding is?—”
“In three weeks.”
His jaw hardens. “In. Three. Weeks?”
I eye him with curiosity. The skin stretches across his cheekbones; his jaw seems so tight, he must, surely, have a tension headache. I wonder what’s making him this angry? Did I say or do anything to warrant that reaction? I don’t think so.
I need to distract him from talking about my upcoming nuptials. “The Christmas decorations will be up later tonight. There’s a team coming in to put them up around the office.”
He winces. And predictably, he seems to mentally check out as soon as Christmas is mentioned. I have never met someone who has such a lack of festive cheer.
He picks up his phone and begins to scroll through it.
Guess our conversation is over. It was an entertaining evening, at least.Sort of.
I, too, pick up my phone and start replying to my emails. I meanhisemails which continue to be forwarded to my inbox.
When we reach the office, he’s about to open the door to exit the car, then pauses. “By the way, you’ll be leading the board meeting.”
“Me?” I gape at him. “You want me to lead the board meeting?”
“Yes.”
What?What?What’s he talking about “You’re referring to the one n-next week?” I sputter.
“Is there another?” he asks politely.
I shake my head. “But…that’s so soon.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with that?”
