Page 76 of Close to My Heart

“It is,” I protested. How could anyone say it wasn’t? It might have started out as a fake relationship, but it became real on our wedding night. I might not have told Wes how I felt yet, but that didn’t make it any less real. But doubt crept in. Would Mother tell Grandma her suspicions and ruin everything?

“First, you didn’t know who you’d marry, and you needed my help.”

I wouldn’t say that I asked for her help. Mom volunteered to vet the guys I dated, and being overwhelmed, I agreed.

“Then all of a sudden, you’re marrying that farmer.” Her voice rose with each word.

“He might have grown up on a farm, but he’s so much more than that.”

“You know better than anyone the only thing that matters is what family you’re born into. It’s about status and wealth.”

“That’s what’s important to you.” My parents were uncaring and uninterested in my growth, and her ideals were lost on me.

Mother raised a brow. “You’re free to have your little social media channel because you were born wealthy. Others don’t get college and grad school paid for. They have debt. They have to work to pay for their home and expenses.”

“I work hard.” Mom didn’t realize how much my little social media channel made, and it wouldn’t help my case to tell her.

“None of us should have to. But you want to throw it all away.”

I sighed, suddenly exhausted from this argument. I’d never see things the way my mother saw them. If I hadn’t inherited the house, I would have had to pivot and figure out another career. It would have sucked, but I was confident I could have done it.

Dad appeared at the door. “They’re cutting the cake.”

“We need to get back out there.” Mom straightened and breezed out of the room.

I let out a breath before following at a slower pace. I didn’t enjoy these kinds of events, and I needed time to regroup after the argument with my mother. She never failed to unsettle me.

The guests were gathered around the table where the cake was on display, rivaling that of a wedding. White flowers cascaded over the towers. Grandmother’s cheeks were flushed as she slowly sliced a knife through the bottom layer.

An attendant was nearby to help her move it to a plate.

Cheers erupted, and then the band started playing the birthday song.

Wes appeared at my side. “How was the talk with your mother?”

I just shook my head.

The music changed from the birthday tune to something slow, and Wes guided me onto the dance floor. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” I tried not to let my mother’s demands get to me, but it was hard.

Wes inclined his head. “I admire you. Growing up in the Rosesmith family is not for the faint of heart.”

I chuckled without much humor. “You have to be tough.”

His gaze was steady. “Yet you’re caring and kind.”

My cheeks flushed from his compliment.

“The last few weeks have been nice.”

“I think so too,” I said as I scanned the room, noticing that my mom stood next to my grandmother. I wondered if she was trying to convince her to change the will.

Did my mother have a plan to get what she wanted? Who was the collateral damage, me and this house?

Wes pulled me closer. “They’ve been more than nice.”

What were we talking about? I wondered as I returned my attention to Wes’s face. His hands on my body. Oh, right, our marriage.

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