Page 4 of Reckless Vow

One thing is clear—Roberta Montgomery got things done her way regardless of other people’s feelings. And I don’t have much say in the matter.

I need to find myself a husband. Fast.

Chapter2

Brook

“I’m really sorry,” Dad repeats for the thousandth time, as if this crisis was his fault.

Yes, I’m calling it a crisis and going with the dramatics, because I’m on the verge of crying at this point.

Even surrounded by my family, I’ve never felt this alone.

I’m single.

The status has never bothered me. It’s been a one hundred percent improvement from the fucked-up dynamics I had with Dylan Sinclair, my ex.

Over the past few months I’ve spent in New York, I’ve started appreciating my single status.

Maybe it was reconnecting with my roots, with my family, or just a change of scenery, but I finally, for the first time in my life, feel like the ground under me is not shifting violently.

Like I can remain still for a moment, or ten, and enjoy the serenity. Without running. Without escaping. Without avoiding.

And now I fucking have to get married?

Damn you, Roberta.

I haven’t begun to unpack the whole issue of her meddling with my life prior to today. Today’s ultimatum is enough to deal with at the moment.

“Daddy, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.” Paris kisses his forehead and he squeezes her hand.

He looks so defeated in the wheelchair. The last round of radiation damaged his vertebrae, decreasing his mobility.

Every time I see him, I regret the years I stayed away. I’ll never get them back, but at least now I can cherish every moment with him.

It’s been over a year since he was diagnosed with cancer and he’s still here with us, so that’s what I try to focus on.

My currently aimless existence has provided one benefit—after Paris got settled with Finn, her partner, I moved in with Dad and Mom. Well, my stepmom, Bianca.

Under any other circumstances, this would be pathetic at my age, but spending time with my dad is priceless.

Though they are planning to move to their house in Florida, so Dad can fully focus on his recovery in some state-of-the-art facility.

I’ll be their house sitter, and I’m glad I can help in some way. I had planned to spend the time working on my current manuscript, and figuring out if I’m returning to England or staying here.

I guess now I’ll have to look for a husband. Fuck.

“You have to give it to her—she was smart.” Dad chuckles humorlessly.

“Dominic is coming over to review the will.” London paces by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the sitting room.

“All of you have partners. It’s not such a big deal for you,” I point out.

“I won’t be blackmailed into getting married by an old lady I’ve never met,” London snaps, ignoring the real issue here.

I have no one to marry.

“Okay, all of these are the worst of the worst humanity has ever created.” Sydney throws the list of beneficiaries to the coffee table along with her phone. “I might be on the FBI’s watch list because of my search history now. On paper, they’re legal, but tied to environmental atrocities, support of extremist groups, and political groups accused of arms trafficking.” She shudders visibly.

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