Page 17 of Keep Me

“I literally never have your attention,” I argue, unable to keep the emotion from my voice now. My vision grows blurry with moisture pooling in my lashes.

“Oh, don’t be so immature. Just grow up.”

When I shake my head, a tear falls. “I am getting married, Mom. It’s true. I’m moving to Scotland, and I’ll be gone.”

Looking unimpressed, she just gives me a shrug. “Fine, Sylvie. If that’s what you want me to believe, then I’ll believe it. Best of luck.”

“That’s it?” I mumble.

“What else do you want me to say after everything you’ve done?”

After a shuddering breath, I wipe my tears away. “That’s all. Bye, Mother.”

Without so much as a hug or a handshake, I turn and bolt out of her office. I pass by Enid on the main level as she’s talking to the same group my mother was.

“Bye, you greasy cunt,” I call out to her, pleased to hear the gasps of horror as I dash out the front door.

As I huddle against the brisk night air, I pull my cardigan around me and force myself to breathe. With each pain-riddledinhale, I feel the dam break, and my tears form. By the time I reach 57th and Park, I’m crying in earnest.

Everything hurts from that interaction with my mother, but the thing that digs the deepest is her not believing me. Why does that one part feel as if it’s swallowing me whole? She doesn’t care if I stay or go. She doesn’t care that I never feel loved by her. She doesn’t care about me at all, but the fact that she didn’t believe me…that makes my breath quiver, my lip tremble, and the tears flow.

Well, I’ll show her. I wasn’t lying. I will marry that Scottish man, and I will move to Scotland, and I will be taken care of for the rest of my life. I don’t need her anymore.

As soon as I get back to my apartment, my face is a mess with tears. I scramble through the drawer of my desk, looking for the card I left there. For a moment, I panic, thinking I might have thrown it away.

But my heart hammers in my chest when I spot the name on the glossy forest green card—Anna Barclay.

With a nervous gulp, I pull out my phone and dial the international number. Then I check my time and realize it’s already early morning there. Maybe even too early for her to be awake.

But after two rings, she groggily answers.

“Hello?”

“Anna,” I say, feeling frantic and unsettled. “This is Sylvie Devereaux.”

“Hello, Ms. Devereaux,” she replies in her calm and collected manner. “Have you given some thought to my offer?”

I’m doing this. I’m really fucking doing this.

“Yes,” I say with confidence. “I’ll do it. I’ll…marry your brother.”

“Very good,” she replies with a squeak of excitement in her voice. “I’ll have the contract drawn up and sent over today. We can arrange for a crew to put your things into storage for you, and the fees would be covered. We should be able to get the typicalwaiting period waived and Marriage Notice processed quickly. Would you be ready to leave in, say…a week?”

My heart is pounding so hard that I feel like I might pass out. I glance around my apartment at the various things that I have collected over the years. It’s all just things that have no real meaning to me anymore. No friends to say goodbye to. No family to see me off.

The sooner I’m out of here, the better.

“Yes. Next week is perfect,” I reply.

“Wonderful. I’m very excited, and I know Killian will be too.”

The mention of his name makes my blood go cold. I’m going to see him again. I’m going tomarryhim.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“See you next week then,” she says.

“See you next week,” I echo.

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