Page 32 of Fairy Tale Lies
“After her death, things fell apart. Fast. Will, already a big partier, had no one to hold him back. He spiraled out of control. My dad was no help. He was too busy drowning in his own problems. He wasn’t able to cope with losing my mom and sank his pain in whiskey. He became more distant and was constantly late for work. When his department needed to lay off officers, my dad was given the pink slip. For a while, he did nothing besides mourning my mom and drinking.”
“I’m sorry.” She was at a loss for words.
He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry you asked?”
She kissed him lightly on the lips. “No. I’m sorry you’ve had to endure those difficult years.”
“Yes, well, it’s life, and I cannot complain.” He lifted one shoulder then let it drop. “Yeah, losing my mom hurts, it always will. But I have a lot to be grateful for. Will’s been clean for almost two years, and my father’s stopped drinking. When Will moved back home, Dad didn’t want alcohol around the house tempting Will. They’re both working on a second chance…it’s not something everyone is given.”
“True, but it doesn’t minimize the pain.”
“No. Only time does that.” Jacob exhaled heavily. “It was also an unpleasant wake-up call.”
“How so?”
“Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I’d wanted a marriage like my parents. My mom adored my dad, and he thought she hung the moon. When she died, my dad became a ghost. Now I’m not sure I want to risk losing a part of me, like he has. It scares me shitless.”
Greta empathized, though feared love for other reasons. For her, love meant losing herself to another. Her mother demanded Greta be the perfect socialite. Her father, the business tycoon. Blake, his Trophy Wife.
What would a man like Jacob demand she become for his love?
He gave a deep sigh and chuckled. “Sorry. I sound like fucking Eeyore. Anyway, I don’t know anything about love and marriage. I’ve never been in love or had the urge to shackle myself to someone in wedded bliss.”
“Wow, you make marriage sound wonderful.” She laughed. “More like a prison sentence than a happily ever after.”
“With some of the women I’ve dated, marriage would be a prison sentence. Besides, happily ever after is only in fairy tales, not for people like me. Not for the real world.”
His outlook stung, though it shouldn’t. They had nothing more than a summer together. She should be thrilled; she’d never have to worry about giving him her heart and him devouring it.
He didn’t want it.
It made things between them simple.
So why was the day suddenly less sunny, even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky? Why was there a slight ache in her chest? She kept her smile in place, wanting to keep the moment light. “Maybe you need to rework your version of the fairy tale, Mr. Grimm.”
Jacob scrutinized her, giving a playful leer. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Fairy tales are interesting. I always did find Gretel very appealing.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I can most definitely understand why the witch wanted to eat Gretel.”
She flushed at his overt innuendo and couldn’t resist sparring with him. “Yes. Do remember how it ended for the witch when she displeased Gretel.”
He flashed a grin, overflowing with amusement. “Noted. I’ll do my damnedest to make sure Gretel’s never displeased.”
Chapter Thirteen
Greta sat with her sister at an elegant glass table, listening to her complain. They were at their favorite French restaurant, Fourier. Usually, Greta found the stylish patio with its large, embroidered umbrellas and wrought iron fencing soothing. Today, however, the relaxing atmosphere was lost on her.
Cindy was in one of her moods. “Come on, you have to go with me. And don’t tell me you already have plans. If you do, cancel them. We’ve barely seen each other since you’ve returned home.”
“Go where? I’m here with you now,” Greta replied calmly before ordering her favorite white wine. “Don’t lay the blame on me. You’re the one always working. Perhaps we’d see more of each other if you’d stop traveling every time you had a couple days to ‘visit’ some distant relative on the East Coast.”
They both understood “visit” meant traveling with friends or meeting any family member who liked to party.
She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “It’s like what Mother says. My looks won’t last forever. I need to take all the good modeling jobs. I can’t help a lucky by-product is lots of travel.” She paused, ordering her wine, picking right up where they left off. “And don’t get stuffy with me. Remember when you finally relaxed and took a year off from college to travel with me? You had a riot.”
“Yes, okay, I did enjoy myself,” Greta admitted.
Cindy huffed. “It was more than enjoyable.”
She was right. Their year traveling Europe had been incredible. Not so great was being in her late twenties and still working on her master’s. Something not unheard of, or even uncommon, but it bothered her. Had she not taken time off, she’d be done with school and on to the next chapter of her adult life. One where she had independence and the respect of her parents. Hopefully.
