I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear footsteps shuffling up behind me. I glance over my shoulder and find Josephine approaching in her fancy little kitten heels.
“Thank you for dinner, Great-Grandma,” I say sweetly, turning to face her.
Her eyes narrow on the glass I just placed in the top rack of the dishwasher, but she doesn’t comment on it.
“So when are you getting married, Julissa Mei?” she asks me instead.
Internally, I wince. “I don’t really know, Great-Grandma.”I’m not being coy. I’m really not.“I don’t like the whole ‘for better or worse’ vibe. I’m more of a…‘for better or better’ kind of girl.”
That’s the only option for me. As if I’d let some sucker come into my life and bring me down.
Great-Grandma’s scowl tells me I probably should have kept all that to myself. “Nonsense. All women dream of having a husband.” She waves me off with a dismissive flick of her fragile, diamond-adorned wrist.
I beg to differ.
It’s virtually impossible to keep believing in fairytales once you learn that your very existence is the product of your father being a terrible human being, cheating on his wife, knocking up the unsuspecting college student he was having a fling with, and essentially ruining her life.
I love both of my parents, but they’re most definitely not the poster children for happily-ever-after. So, marriage? Not really on my bucket list.
Great-Grandma opens her mouth, no doubt to scold me for my heathen ways, but I shut the dishwasher door with a snap and give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Sorry that I have to run. I’m late to my best friend’s housewarming party tonight. Thanks again for the grub, Great-Grandma.”
With an unladylike salute, I get the heck out of there, hustling through the hallways of Great-Grandma’s mansion and grabbing my leather jacket from the coatroom along the way.
To be fair, it’s notactuallya mansion. No such places exist here in the small town of Fairy Bush, Iowa. But that’s what I always called this place when I was a kid. The house is ancient and huge and imposing. You could literally fit at least three of my childhood homes into the massive living room alone, so, it’s hard to come up with a better word for it.
It’s only after the big, heavy front door swings closed that I can finally breathe.
Humphrey, the elderly groundskeeper, looks up from the hydrangea bushes he and his helpers are tending to as I hobble past.
“Everything all right, Ms. Julissa?” the old man asks, his voice heavy with concern.
“Everything’s great, Humphrey. Everything’s just great. Have a nice evening.”
I send the man a forced smile and a quick wave as I sling my leather purse across my chest, hop onto my moped and zoom through the wrought-iron gates of the estate.
But everything is far from great.
I didn’t wait all these years just to let my fortune slip through my fingers at the very last minute. I need to find a way to fix this.
It’s time to hatch a plan.
2
LINCOLN
“Iunderstand that this is hard for you, Cynthia, but it’s what’s best for our son,” I say for the third time in as many minutes.
In the distance, I hear a loud squeal, followed by raucous laughter coming from Easton’s backyard. I glance through the slat blinds, wondering what I’m missing out on.
A party rages outside. Meanwhile I’m locked away in my brother’s home office, staring at his walls of hockey memorabilia and trying to reassure my crying ex-wife over the phone.
Cynthia sniffles again. “I know. I know. It’s just…”
“Trust me. You don’t need to worry about anything.” I pace back and forth across the carpeted floor as I speak. “I have everything under control.” I square my shoulders and lift my chin, like that will somehow make the statement truer.
As usual, my ex sees right through me. She laughs softly over the line. “No, you definitely don’t have everything under control. How many nannies have quit on you in the past two weeks?”
