Page 12 of Marrying the Gardener
“Oh,” Crisis says, deflating back into the couch. Her nose scrunches. “Charter. Hate that.”
So do I. It was an insipid, childish name I picked during a high that felt like freedom. I wanted to chart my own future, far away from the attention-hungry abuse of our parents. Only now does it feel like I was charting a course away from the love of my brothers, and I’m still not entirely sure how to get back.
I guess it’s not exactly important at this moment.
By tomorrow night, I’ll be a Nightingale.
“Can I count on you all to keep this confidentiality, shouldthe need arise?” I ask.
Zakery chirps, “Absolutely!” first.
Kyran yawns again and shrugs his acquiescence.
Viktor’s light brown eyes implore me for details that I don’t relinquish, so eventually he sighs and nods.
I turn my attention to my sister and my sisters-to-be.
“Oh, um, yes. Of course,” Maelin offers when my gaze hits her.
Morana also shrugs and says, “I don’t really talk to Crimson anyway.”
Crisis meets my stare head on, glaring.
“Please,” I say. “For Crimson.”
She huffs. “Fine. But you better know your place. You’re the side chick. She’s my husband, and she will never love you more than me.”
“Understood,” I say.
Because if she learns to love me at all, that would be far more than I deserve.
Chapter 4
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Matrimony. Huzzah.
Crimson
“But, Daddy! I love him!” I cry, pitifully, into my phone before hanging up on my father. Had I pulled this stunt in person, my father would have slapped me halfway across the foyer. Therefore, it’s far better for these theatrics to occur over the phone, so that the man has a chance to cool down before meeting my “husband” in person.
Having some time between him finding out and him colliding with Kaleb’s trained ability to make people like him gives us a better chance. With cool-down time, my father is far less likely to explode in front of Kaleb. He’ll get mad by himself. Blow up by himself. And remember that I have married amaleby himself.
Once he initiates contact again, he’ll be focused on saving face before another man, and it’s through that effort that we’ll have a chance to use his pride against him.
Grimacing, I turn to the man I just married in a courthouse and say, “Are you sure you only need the suitcase I picked you up with? I won’t have time to take you back to the Bachelor estate for a few days once I bring you home.”
“I’m sure you’ll more than see to my needs over the next year or so,” he says, intently watching me. “Most of my clothes are flannel or plaid. I grabbed what wasn’t, since I didn’t see where bringing a straw hat into your home fit my backstory as a mild-mannered finance worker.” A gentle smile flirts with his lips. “You’re lucky I’m familiar with the concept of math.”
“I hope you researched your role beyondfamiliar with mathlast night.”
“Crimson, please. I am a professional. Besides, pretending to be selfish isn’t entirely difficult. Most of the time, people pretend not to be.”
A fair point.
Putting my car in drive, I pull out of the parking spot in front of the courthouse and steer toward home. “The complicated parts will be merging how I need you to act with how I do. In my own home, my staff do not expect me to play the mewling wifey. Are you prepared to orchestrate a calculated breakdown of my character in their eyes?”
“It’s only natural that I would have been love bombing you throughout the course of our relationship. Now that I have my goal, I can begin dissolving the façade. The craftiness involved in my ambition will appeal to men like your grandfather and father as I assume they picture themselves self-made men entirely independent of the fact they’re old money who started at the top.”
