Page 155 of One Wealthy Wedding

She comes off the wall, gets in my face.

Oh, she’s mad. Finally. “I would have traded places with you. I’d do it today.”

“You have no idea what my life was like,” I respond.

“Because you left,” she cries. “You think you’re the only one who had things hard? Tell me something. Did you think my father’s recent behavior only started when I was eighteen, or nineteen?” Her voice is shaking with the force of her anger.

“What are you saying?” I’m missing something. My heart is pounding. I’m going to be sick. I’m hurting her and I hate it. I hate myself for this.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she bites out. “Where’s the separation agreement? I’m eager to dissolve this sham marriage as soon as the year is up.”

“I have it in my desk. Explain, Cat.”

“No.”

“You never tell me anything. How am I supposed to understand you when all you do is keep secrets?” I swallow hard. I fucked up. I know I fucked up and I’m desperate to understand her. “Please, Cat,” I say quietly.

She looks at me with flinty eyes. Her body is trembling. “It’s Catherine,” she says flatly. “You wanted to know about the presents? Fine. Your mom’s were the only ones. My parents didn’t get me anything. They didn’t teach me how to bake. They didn’t tell me they loved me. They locked me in that fucking house, and they pretended I didn’t exist. My grandma was too old to do anything and your mom is the only one who ever cared.”

“Your parents didn’t get you anything?” The wind is rapidly going out of my sails, and of all the horrible things Cat claims her parents have done, the fact that they never bought her birthday presents seems like the worst of all of it.

“No.” A small, bitter laugh comes from her throat. “No, they didn’t get me anything. They didn’t remember my birthday, you know.” She presses her head back against the door. “I loved your mom. I never asked for those gifts, but they were all I had. Especially the diary. That diary saved me.”

An ache starts behind my ribs.

“They didn’t remember? They didn’t tell you they loved you?” I ask hoarsely. I know Cat’s dad was horrible to her in order to get the shares, but as a child? It’s too awful to contemplate.

“Of course not.” She snorts. “They hated me. I mean, my mom loved me, but she wasn’t there for long. After that, my dad…” She shrugs. “You know how it went. He was gone most of the time, but when he remembered I existed, it was…unpleasant.” She looks at me. Her face is blank. I can’t read her. “Don’t look at me like that. He didn’t beat me or anything. I didn’t have it worse than any other kid, really. Lots of my friends had parents who did drugs or had mistresses. Mine just didn’t love me. I should have left long before I did.” She shrugs again. “Think what you want, Theo. It can’t be worse than what I think about myself. Are we done?”

“No. We’re not done.”

She frowns. “I don’t really want to have this conversation.”

“We’re having it,” I say flatly. “What else? What about my mom?”

“She was the best.” Cat smiles, but her eyes are faraway. “I wanted her to be my mom so badly. The presents were one thing, but she always tried to help me. Especially with stuff that you’d normally have a mom for. I got my period for the first time, and she helped me wash my sheets. I was so embarrassed, and she knew the exact combination of soaps to get the stains out.” She shakes her head ruefully. “It’s silly, the things you care about at thirteen. And the sleeping in my room. That was dumb too. I slept with my freshman-year boyfriend right before I went home for spring break, and the condom broke. I was so scared I was pregnant. She bought me pregnancy tests and slept on my couch for two nights because I kept waking up crying. She’s great, you know. You’re lucky. I’m sorry you had to share her, but she was the bright spot of my childhood.”

“I know I’m lucky,” I say, my voice gravelly. I should have been there for Cat. I should have been the one to sleep on her couch and tell her everything was going to be okay. And I should have been the one sleeping with her, not some asshole who didn’t know about Plan B and how to use a condom properly. “Cat, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I didn’t know, and I should have seen it. If I had, I would never have let them treat you like that.

“I know you didn’t know. I didn’t tell you.” She looks so casual. Her eyes aren’t wet with tears anymore. Somehow, she swallowed them down. Her face isn’t red. I wish I had half her calm. Inside me is a storm. Regret, self-loathing, and sadness.

“Why not?” I ask gently.

“Because I’m not proud of it. Poor little rich girl whose parents never loved her.” She snorts. “It’s a cliché. Besides, a braver person would have left. You left. I didn’t. I’m weak. I don’t blame you for hating me. Not really.”

“I don’t hate you,” I say quietly.

She gives me a skeptical look. “Don’t worry about it,” she says flippantly. Every time she makes light of the situation, it’s an ice pick through my stomach. “Anyway, the separation agreement?”

“I’ll sign it and leave it in your bedroom,” I tell her.

It’s a lie.

I’m going to tear the separation agreement up as soon as she leaves the room.

Cat Peterson is mine.

47

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