Page 2 of Blindly Yours

I slide my glass away and nod as I stand, avoiding Malcolm’s penetrating gaze while I shrug my coat over my shoulders. “It’s getting late anyway.” Cooper is Junie’s two-year-old border terrier, and not her most clever excuse, but at least she tried.

“Have a good night, Malcolm,” Junie smiles lightly at him.

“Can I call you sometime, Rose?” He completely ignores her.

With an exhale, I catch him watching me with remorse, like a child who’s had his prize revoked at a fair. Because that’s all I am to him. A prize to be won. Candy for his arm.

“I have to go now.” I don’t give him the chance to respond, following Junie quickly from the bar and out into the unseasonably frigid evening April air.

We grab a waiting Uber, and once we’re settled inside, Junie turns to me with wide eyes. “What did he say?”

I massage the space between my eyebrows. “He said he still loves me.”

“The nerve.” She wrinkles her nose. “After what he did? And he thought you’d believe him? He’s delusional.”

“He justthinkshe loves me.” I stare out the window as the white and red lights of passing cars slide by. “I don’t think he ever did, though.”

A beat of silence lingers before she responds quietly. “I’m sorryyoudid.”

I shrug and press my forehead against the glass. “Yeah, well, it was a mistake and I moved on. Can we talk about something else?”

“Ok, um.” She shuffles her purse on her lap. “Oooh, how was spa day with your mom yesterday?”

I lift my head and then let it fall heavily against the window with a thud and close my eyes. “She spent the entire time trying to convince me to get back together with Malcolm.”

“I’m sorry.” She rests her hand on my knee. “I know it’s messed up, but she just wants the best for you.”

I twist my neck to give her an incredulous glance. “Yeah, and according to her, the best is going back to the man who cheated on me. All she cares about is his last name, his family’s legacy, and the gigantic estate on Lower Lake he’s going to inherit.”

“Wait, really?” She sits forward and tucks her straight black hair behind her ear. “You never told me about the house.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, it’s huge. And his parents hardly use it. It’s insane.”

“Well, your mom wants you to be comfortable. That’s fair.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, I think I’d beplentycomfortable there.”

“But not with someone like Malcolm,” she confirms with a frown.

“I hardly think I have a choice,” I murmur.

Then she presses her fingers to her chin. “Well, maybe not Malcolm exactly, but I think your mom will have an aneurysm if you don’t bring home someone with a seven-figure salary.”

“And a name. And preferably a yacht,” I mumble.

She shrugs. “I mean, your parents’ favorite pastime is discussing the stock market and comparing Lamborghinis to Bugattis. Whoever you date has gotta fit in.”

I let out a huff, because she’s right.

She shifts her purse over her shoulder as we near her building. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard your dad talk about anything else.”

“Well, thankfully, most men enjoy talking about Lamborghinis and Bugattis.” I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, but most guys don’town bothof them.” She raises an eyebrow. “It’s going to have to be someone in the same tax bracket. Otherwise, it’ll be a jab to his ego.”

I start to protest, but she continues. “Just not the one who cheated on you.”

I close my mouth and nod. As much as I hate the thought of marrying someone just for his bulging bank account, there are expectations…for both me and my brothers. My parents have built a legacy, and regretfully, their opinion matters.

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