Page 25 of Marrying the Gardener
As far as men go, the Bachelor brothers are the only ones I’ve ever considered worthy of more than scorn. I like them—even Lukas, who is probably clinically insane. They are all sweet, caring men, the likes of which I’ve learned are impeccably rare.
“Talking to Ava would ruin everything, wouldn’t it?” I whisper.
Kaleb’s weight settles beside me, then his large hand is running through my hair. “I don’t think so.”
“Telling her the full truth would be a risk, especially if she can’t act appropriately in our schemes. I don’t know if my grandfather will see fit to visit once you’ve met him and he starts making decisions about his will. This whole thing is already a risk. I can’t make my chances worse.” My voice breaks. “I only have one.”
Kaleb stays silent for a long moment, eyes fixed on my hair and the way it runs through his callused fingers. Finally, he says, “I don’t like how this is destroying you.”
My eyes close. “She’ll understand, after. She’s just…been like a mother to me. She’s hated every time I’ve been treated like less than a person. And she probably doesn’t understand why I’d ever opt into bringing what I’ve fought my entire life home. It’s like she said.” My heart twists. “She raised me better than this. She nursed me when my mother died in childbirth. I became the baby she’d also lost. We…” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. I don’t know why I’m telling him anything. This is a job. It doesn’t matter. I need to pull myself together. “I don’t feel well. I’m not upset with you. You’ve done great today. I think I just need to turn in early.”
Kaleb pins my hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to do anyof this,” he murmurs. “You don’t.”
“You don’t understand. If I don’t do something, I’ll be enslaved to my father for the rest of his life. He still hits me, Kaleb. Whenever he decides that I deserve it. Sometimes, when he’s drunk, he just does it for sport.” I open my eyes, find the moment when the forest of greens in Kaleb’s blacken. “I can’t keep living as less than human, threatened on all sides if I don’t keep playing the role he wants me to.” I force myself to present a fragile smile. “Ineedto do this, Kaleb. You don’t understand what I have to lose. You don’t understand the lifestyle I come from. You don’t understand that the only thing that was standing between me and a political marriage was how profoundly useless my father determines I am. I exist to be treated like an idiot while I simultaneously manage relationships with the members of my father’s business partners’ families, so he doesn’t have to worry about little Susie’s birthday, or that really important guy’s wife’s favorite color, or so-and-so’s uncle with cancer. Business is about cunning and care. I act as his care, since he has none, and I do it to survive his cunning. I dance on my puppet strings, and he lets me live in Sunset, believing that I’m working to maintain relations with the Bachelors, his biggest threat. One word of discourse from them, and my family could crumble. He knows that. So here I am. Playing nice. Sitting pretty. Wondering…when he’ll ask something of me that is too far.” Shuddering, I hug myself, look away from Kaleb’s dark, dark eyes. “It’s like they say. You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”
“Please, Crimson.” His voice breaks now, and he’s kneeling at my bedside in a moment. “Talk to Ava. Your staff live on the grounds, don’t they? Go to them. Apologize for me. Explainsomething.”
I drag my hand to his cheek, wonder why his eyes seem so shattered. This can’t be affecting him this much. It just can’t. Webarely know one another. He has no reason to care about me. I let a breath stretch my tight lungs. “There is nothing I can say on your behalf that won’t make her ask why you didn’t confront her yourself. I have to commit to this plan if I’m going to make it work. Because, frankly, my girls are the least dangerous audience we’ll be performing in front of. I need to hold out until this is done. Then, once I’m safe, I’ll apologize, and explain, and hope Ava is still around to forgive me.”
“Why would she leave you now, when you need her most?”
“Because. There comes a point when supporting someone is enabling them. She’d leave in a heartbeat if she thought it would wake me up. I just have to hope my grandfather dies before she reaches that point. I don’t want to put her through that decision any more than I want to live through the rejection.”
Gripping my hand, Kaleb rises and lowers his forehead to mine before planting a chaste kiss to my cheek, over a tear I don’t recall feeling fall. “I am so sorry. For everything.”
Everything hurts. “You have nothing to apologize for. I appreciate what you’re doing for me. I appreciate you. I want you to know that. Your efforts and kindness do not go unseen. In spite of your particularly flirty disposition, I am grateful that we collided that night outside Juniper’s party. This wouldn’t be possible without you, and I doubt many men would handle it with the grace and respect you are.”
He wipes dampness from my cheeks and straightens himself. “If I can be of service, that is enough for me. Rest now, Rose-red. Things always seem darkest at this time of night. Everything will be brighter in the morning.”
I certainly hope so.
Exhausted, I nod, then I watch him head toward the shared closet, lock my side of the door, and disappear beyond.
Chapter 8
?
This absolutely breaks my NDA.
Kaleb
“Can we talk?” I ask when Ava opens the front door of the mother-in-law suite. Thankfully, the stucco building is nowhere near General’s dog house; otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it here without alerting Crimson that someone was outside.
Ava’s brows furrow, and she scans me, top to bottom, before she huffs. “I’m glad you found some clothes.”
Deeper in, Esmee goads, “I’m not. The fact he’s pretty is the only thing I like about him so far.”
I look down at the t-shirt I threw on after I reached the black counterpart to Crimson’s white room. Exactly symmetrical—including the balcony and red curtains—the rooms mirror one another in starkly intentional ways.
Both remain altogether devoid of character, and I would do anything to scatter them with indoor plants that provide something akin to personality. But while it might be my job to pretend I think I own this place, I know I don’t.
Dragging my fingers through my hair, I clear my throat.
“What do you want?” Ava asks, tone cutting.
What do I want?
Easy.
