With that, I zoom through the remaining few pages of the contract, all of which I agree to, or at the very least, don’t feel like fighting him on, and then hit the hay.
Chapter Twelve
Darcy
She sips her coffee slowly, her brown eyes, so different from mine, never looking away from me. The sounds of espresso machines whirling and light chatter from the people in and out of Five Four Coffee provide background noise while I focus on trying to decipher her expression. I once thought Hayden’s stare was the most intense thing I could experience, but I was clearly wrong.
I don’t remember Mother ever looking at me this way before.
“Son, you don’t have to do this,” she finally says after several long seconds, setting her cup of coffee down. I fidget with my hands in my lap, shrinking under her constant gaze.
“It’s my best shot at winning the presidency.”
“Forgive me for speaking this way, but she is a nobody. How will marrying this woman create a better opportunity for you? If anything, you are raising her status.”
“Because marriage isn’t about status,” I retort, internally flinching at the way she sounds like Father. “You know that better than anyone.” A flash of hurt crosses her eyes, and I immediately regretmy words. “I’m sorry, Mother. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, you’re right. Marriage isn’t about status. But it also isn’t about one person taking from the other. What can she offer you?”
I let out an exasperated laugh. “She’s giving me anywhere from one to eight years of her life. And a solid chance at the rural conservative vote. What more could I ask for?”
“But do you love her?”
“Marriage isn’t about love, either,” I bite.
“Regardless of what happened, I loved your father, Darcy.” Mother’s gaze finally shifts from me to the chromatic, abstract paintings on the wall of the coffee shop. “He messed up. And he died before we could make it right. But I believe we could have made it right.”
Gracious, I wish she would quit deluding herself. Father was scum to cheat on her after everything they went through together. He found solace in the arms of other women while Mother strove to be strong for me as I struggled to pull myself from the brink of despair after losing Ophelia.
“Trust and respect are more important than love.” I reiterate my earlier sentiments when I told her about the marriage happening. “A man in my shoes, of my position, needs to know he can trust the woman by his side. Love is subjective. It’s fleeting. Trust is solid and real. It’s not easily obtained.”
Mother sighs then places her hand palm-up on the table. I place mine in hers and let the warmth of her frail, wrinkled hands take over my senses. “I trust you, Son. If you say this woman is the one you need by your side, I support you.”
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand, then bring my coffee to my lips. The flavor is sweet and smooth, warming my throat as it goes down.
“But I would love to meet her today. Could you arrange that?”
The hot liquid trickles down my chin as I choke. The sounds of conversation around suddenly seem too loud and the small shop too crowded, though there are only a handful of other people in the building. She wants to meet Hayden?Today?I was hoping to briefly introduce them at the rehearsal and be done with it. This marriage is only in the eyes of the law, so there is no need for family bonding and such things.
“I don’t know, Mother. We both had today off, and I’d hate to bug—”
My phone rings, and I take it from my pocket.
Hayden.
“Her.” I finish my sentence in an irritated whisper before answering the phone. “Hello?”
“Let’s meet. We need to talk about the contract.”
“I’ll send you a location to meet me at. I’m already here,” I respond, though my chest is tightening. I hang up and text her the address to the coffee shop.
“Looks like you’ll get your wish.” I smile grimly at Mother. “But once you exchange pleasantries, you will need to go.”
Mother’s eyes light up and a grin inches across her face.
She spends the next twelve minutes asking me a million questions about Hayden—questions I don’t know the answer to. What’s her favorite color? What’s her favorite type of music? Is she a cat or dog person? The only question I knew the answer to wasabout her home life, thanks to the background check completed on her when she joined my campaign team. She’s orphaned and has constructed her life on her own from the ground up, which is one of the reasons I respect Hayden immensely. Not many people can overcome a situation like hers, go to college, earn a living, and secure the position of campaign manager of a presidential candidate.
“Mr. Marshall.” Hayden’s voice brings me back to the present, and I stand up to greet her. Mother follows suit.
