Page 13 of Prince of Tides
“Yeah,” I said heavily, walking back to the chair and sitting down. It was more a flop than a sit, but I didn’t care. I was exhausted, mentally and even a little physically.
It was supposed to be a lovely reunion for my fiancé and me after not seeing each other for so long. A happy time together to reconnect and work on growing our family.
I felt a pang in my low stomach. A desirefora family of my own. I wanted babies and a house to raise them in. Where they could run around and laugh and play. I wanted an oasis in the middle of that chaos I could retreat to. A husband who took six months to do home renovations despite telling me constantly he’ll “get it done soon.” Iwantedthat. Badly.
Now it was being taken away from me. That knowledge was like carrying around a massive weight on my shoulders. For a moment, I understood the plight of Atlas, the god who held the world.
Snacks had been brought by Melanie, who was sitting nearby as moral support but wouldn’t be a part of the conversation. It was supposed to make it look like Eric was joining us for a casual evening together, but since nobody had touched the food, it was a bit of a giveaway.
Footsteps sounded out the door, and a moment later, Winston poked his head in. “Anything else I can do for you, sir?”
“I don’t think so,” my father said. “Hang around, though, will you? Just out of sight.”
Winston frowned, but he knew better than to ask questions that wouldn’t be answered. “Of course, sir. Just call.”
He left, but less than a minute later, Eric came through the doors.
“There you are,” he said, beaming at me as he came across to the table, kissing me on the head before sitting down. “I’d wondered where everyone was gathering.”
“I got bored waiting for you,” I said with a false smile, “so I came to find family.”
Eric smiled—I noted how he hadn’t so much as looked at my father yet—and reached out to stroke my leg. My façade faltered slightly at his touch. It was like having a snake curled in your lap. I hated it and wanted it gone.
“So,” my father said, sensing my distress, “getting excited about the wedding?”
“Of course, sir,” Eric said respectfully.
“Have you done much planning?”
He looked at me. “Not much since I left for the trip. We were looking at venues mostly before then, a few other things, but none of the nitty-gritty.”
“Do you have a location picked out?”
I marveled at the false sincerity in my father’s tone. It was amazing how he did it. I supposed it was part of his job to bluff and keep a poker face, but I wondered just how many times he’d pulled a fast one on us kids when we were younger.
“Not totally sold just yet, I don’t think,” he said. “We talked about the Hunt Club or perhaps the Asterian Hotel. Its ballroom is both large and gorgeous. All those old columns and the beautiful stairs would make a grand backdrop for wedding dress photos, or so I’m told. But other than that, I don’t think we’ve talked about much. Unless you did while I was gone, dear?”
I smiled as sweetly as I could. “A little bit. Mostly all the paperwork. I was actually going over it with Dad, making sure it was all on the up and up.”
“Paperwork for what?” Eric asked, looking back and forth at us.
My father answered the question by pulling up a sheaf of papers from his side and putting them on the table. “Just some standard things that have to be done. The ugly business side of it all, I’m sure you understand,” he said, pushing it toward my fiancé.
Soon-to-be ex-fiancé, I was sure.
Eric frowned, starting to read. “What’s this?”
“Just your standard prenuptial agreement,” my dad said, sounding as calm as could be as if it was normal. “Nothing new or unusual. Though, of course, I’m sure you’ll have your lawyer look over it and all.”
Eric stiffened, his body language changing. He glanced at me. “Did you know about this?”
“Of course,” I said, frowning. “It’s pretty standard for marriages among people of both our families’ wealth. Did you think we wouldn’t?”
“I …” Eric faltered, and for just a moment, a single instant, I saw through his shell. It was a look that appeared in his eyes for the briefest of moments before disappearing, hidden behind whatever superior acting he’d used to create the “Eric” that I knew.
“Is there a problem?” my dad asked, leaning forward over the table. “Surely your family also wants Laurie to sign one. Don’t they?”
“Ah,” Eric replied. “We hadn’t actually talked about it, sir. It hadn’t come up. I don’t understand.”
