Page 26 of Forbidden Dark Vows

But I knew I couldn’t. If he found out about my mom’s grand designs to marry me off to someone wealthy, or famous, or preferably both, he’d never believe that I like him for who he is. That I like him because he’s funny, sweet, and kind. That I like him because he’s the only man I’ve ever met who listens to what I have to say.

And I couldn’t bear it if he accused me of being a gold digger.

So, I stayed away. I feel bad because I didn’t even thank him for the romantic gestures, but I told myself it was for the best. I called the hospital every day to check up on his progress and asked the nurse not to tell him that I’d called, and now… Now I’ve lost even that final connection to him.

So, I’m free again.

Only I feel like one of those birds Dad warned me about with their clipped wings. Because this kind of freedom comes with its own gilded cage.

“Oh, sweetie, we’ve already been over this a hundred times.”

More than a hundred, I think as she crosses the room and strokes my cheek.

“You can do so much better than Harry Weiss, and I’m not going to let you throw your life away on a guy you feel sorry for.”

“I don’t feel sorry for him.” I already know I’m wasting my breath. “And what if I don’t want to do better?”

“Trust me, Ruby. You’ll regret it when you’re older and your best days are behind you.”

Jeez, thanks for the advice, Mom.

“Don’t forget to stop off at the grocery store on your way home.” She air-kisses me before she leaves—heaven forbid she should go to work with smudged lipstick.

I go through to the den and sit with my dad, eating toast and strawberry jelly. It doesn’t taste the way it did in the hospital. Nothing will ever taste as good again, because nothing will ever live up to the surreal bubble we were stranded in for those few days.

“Back to work today?”

The left side of Dad’s face droops slightly since his stroke. He has very little appetite and has lost weight, which makes his face look gaunt and his neck scrawny, and he walks with the aid of a cane, but his voice hasn’t changed at all. The voice still belongsto my dad, the man who used to hoist me onto his shoulders when I was little and didn’t want to walk; the man who gave me a patch in the garden to grow my own vegetables; the man who took me to the library every couple of weeks for as long as I can remember and encouraged me to read whatever I wanted.

I wish this hadn’t happened to him. He has so much kindness in his heart, so much to give, and it seems that it wasn’t enough for the universe that swallowed it whole and spat it back in his face.

I flop into an armchair with my legs draped over the arm and try to swallow my toast which has suddenly lost its appeal. “He was discharged yesterday.”

My dad knows all about Harry’s romantic gestures. He doesn’t understand why I haven’t contacted him, and I can’t tell him that Mom has other ideas. He has enough shit going on in his life without discovering that his own wife is looking for a millionaire to pave her future path with golden cobblestones.

“Call him, Ruby. What have you got to lose, eh?”

Tears sting behind my eyes. How can I tell him that I feel as if I’ve already lost everything? I don’t want to sound so ungrateful and melodramatic when my dad can’t even work due to his medical condition.

He can’t even dance now for fuck’s sake. The one thing that made him happy, forever denied to him because his blood stopped flowing to his brain for a few moments one day.

“Long distance relationships are a recipe for disaster.” I turn away from him and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

“Sounds like the kind of comment your mom would come out with.” When I face him again, he’s looking at me with a wistfulsmile on his face. “Don’t ever let anyone else tell you what to think, Ruby. You’re too brilliant for that.”

My dad should’ve had lots of kids. He’s the kind of man who would sit in a rocking chair in front of a log fire when he’s old, reading books to all his grandkids, making them laugh with his funny voices.

Perhaps it’s because Harry’s discharge from the hospital has made it so final, but I blurt out, “He asked me to marry him.”

My dad blinks. “Harry did? What did you say?”

“He was on medication, Dad. He was drugged up to his eyeballs and in pain. He didn’t know what he was saying.”

But I can still hear Harry as clearly as if he is sitting right next to me, saying, “If I forget… I want you to remind me. Promise me, Ruby.”

“You don’t ask a question like that without knowing exactly what you’re saying.” He pauses. “How did it make you feel?”

“Special?” I shrug. I don’t tell him that Harry proposed again on our last night together in the hospital. “Anyway, it wasn’t real life. He’ll go back to New York and he’ll have forgotten all about me this time next year.”

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