We board the jet. It’s spacious inside, with beige leather seats and shiny dark wood paneling. There’s a private suite in the back with a double bed and small bathroom. I make my way to one of the seats next to a window and plop down with a sigh. Mom and Dad sit across from me. It’s a short flight to Santa Monica, where I’ll get dropped off, then they’ll head home to New York without me. As the jet takes off, I relax, anticipating an uneventful flight, but Mom apparently has other plans.
“I was very impressed with Leon last night,” she suddenly declares, catching me off-guard.
“Huh?” I blink, confused. Looks like my wonderful little break from their marriage obsession has already come to an end. “What was so impressive about him?”
Mom furrows her brow. “I thought he was a perfect gentleman, and he was engaging and charming with the otherguests. Aubrey has done a very good job raising a fine young man.”
I don’t say anything about how creepy Leon is and how it’s so clear that he’s trying so hard to get on their good side. He’s so fake that it’s cringeworthy. I hate that they can’t see it, or that they’re just choosing to ignore it. Moments like these make me wonder how differently things would be if Colson were still alive. Would they still have such high expectations of me, or would they ignore me completely?
Honestly, I don’t know which would be better.
“I agree,” Dad nods and smiles. “Leon showed himself very competent and capable of handling himself last night. I truly enjoyed his company.”
What are they talking about? Competent at what? Schmoozing with rich people? Stroking egos? It was a party—what could he have done to be so impressive?
“Leon would make you a very fine husband, Sutton,” Mom says with a bright, way-too-wide smile that looks excruciatingly forced. “He’d be an asset not only to the family, but the company as well. Don’t you think?”
I stare at her for several long moments without responding, my expression neutral, but inside, I’m freaking out. She’s insisting on this too hard. She’s too intent. Why is she doing this? Why is she pushing Leon so hard? Is it just because of Aubrey? Why doesn’t she seem to care at all what I think? She has to know I don’t want this. She’s not blind. She’s just being willfully ignorant, and I just don’t understand why Leon is the man she’s batting so hard for. Frankly, he’s the worst suitor she has lined up to date.
Part of me wants to be completely honest and admit that I have no interest in Leon. I don’t want to marry him, no matter how much they might like him. However, a little voice in the back of my head whispers that I’ll be such a disappointment tothem if I tell them the truth. That it’ll make them rethink ever trusting me with the family’s company if I don’t even consider Leon as an option right now.
Besides, don’t I owe them this? Don’t I owe them for what I did? For taking Colson from them?
It’s that thought that quiets my objections and forces me to mumble, “He’s fine, I guess.”
Mom scoffs and forces a smile, but I can see the frustration in her gaze. “Fine? Is that all you think about him? I know he might not be exactly your type, dear, but you really shouldn’t be so closed-minded and shallow. You’ll cut yourself off from worthwhile opportunities that way.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” I mutter, curling up into my seat. “I’m really tired. I might try and catch a nap.”
Mom frowns in concern. “Are you not feeling good again?”
I give her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, I promise. Just sleepy.”
“All right,” she nods, looking relieved. “Your father and I will let you get some rest.”
“Thanks.” I lean my head against the wall and gaze out the window and watch as the clouds pass us by as they fall into a new conversation, just the two of them. It’s something about the food from the night before, so I cheerfully ignore it.
Soon, my mind begins to wander. I think of Jayce and our night together. Fuck, that was easily the best sex of my life. He was so commanding and dominant…and I loved it. The way he touched me with such confidence and worked my body as if he knew every inch of me was thrilling, and submitting to him was intoxicating.
Then there was his crazy proposal this morning. A fake engagement to get our families off our backs. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been tempted by the idea. It was ridiculous, and I’m stillhalf-certain he was joking, but it’d be a decent solution to my problem.
I glance over at Mom and Dad, who are now both distracted on their phones, not paying any attention to me. If they like Leon so much, they’d probably lose their minds with happiness if I announced I was engaged to Jayce Vaughn, heir to Parker Global.
They’d forget all about Leon.
I can imagine Jayce sweeping in, charming them both with his smooth smile and confidence. He’d shake Dad’s hand and tell Mom she’s lovely, which would flatter her and make her blush. He wouldn’t be overbearing or creepy, but perfectly polite and respectful.
We’d attend more galas together, moving through the crowd arm-in-arm, a power couple that people admired and envied. There’d be more dancing… the feel of his strong hands holding me close… warm, sultry evenings by the pool, under the stars…
Blinking, I stop that line of thought. I’m getting carried away, fantasizing about something more than the business arrangement Jayce laid out. That’s not what he wants—and not whatIwant either. I have goals. Ambitions. I can’t get sucked into some silly fantasy about marriage, Jayce, or anything but the business I am actually passionate about. Closing my eyes, I decide to actually try and get a little sleep before we get to Santa Monica, so I push Jayce and his ridiculous idea from my mind.
Aunt Delilah’s Santa Monica mansion is sleek, modern, and extravagant. The Pacific glitters beyond it, the ocean breezecarrying a faint salty smell. My driver pulls up the driveway, which curves up through manicured palms and a wall of bougainvillea in full bloom, the petals spilling bright pink across the pale stone. He parks, and I get my luggage and head for the door. It flies open before I’ve even made it five steps.
Aunt Delilah comes rushing out wearing a blue striped linen dress with a long skirt and sleeves pulled down to bare her shoulders. Her short blonde hair, which is not naturally blonde, is styled like Daisy Buchannon’s inThe Great Gatsby, including the blunt bangs hanging over her bright blue eyes. She raises her arms and lets out an excited cry.
“Oh! There you are! My darling girl. Come and give your auntie a hug.”
Grinning, I drop my bags and rush to her, throwing myself into her arms. Being here with her makes me feel so much relief, a few tears come to my eyes. I love my parents, but Aunt Delilah is my safe space. She’s the one person who truly understands me and respects me, far more than Mom, and I don’t feel the need to hide any part of myself when I’m with her.
