Page 2 of Give My Everything
Because that’s who I am: a quiet observer, a man on the sidelines who holds the playbook. I’m not the battle-weary military man on the front lines covered in dirt and blood, but the general dictating war games with only a few words.
And right now, Remmy is a wildcard. She’s something I didn’t see coming, without a doubt, but a true gamesman knows how to use a wildcard at the exact right time in the exact right way. If she’ll let me.
So now it’s my job to convince her to let me use her.
“Come on, Remmy. Say something to me. Your silence is unnerving,” I say, giving her a charming smile.
She rolls her eyes and shifts in her chair, crossing her arms.
“I don’t know what world you live in,Bennie,” she says, using the nickname that has become the namesake of my restaurant, “but in my world, two people don’t just randomly decide to get married without knowing each other at all. As ancient as our parents can be at times, eventheydon’t force arranged marriages.”
My smile remains in place as I pick up my glass of scotch and take a sip. She has so many tells, and she doesn’t even realize it.
“So my answer is no,” she continues. “Definitely…definitely not.”
Everything about her right now tells me she wants to ask more, get more information, possibly consider the idea.
I know because I took the few moments when she was speaking to me earlier—about breaking up with Lucas, about her pregnancy, about her parents—to rationalize things for her from every angle. The positives from her vantage point are substantial.
“You know, you said no, but I don’t think that’s what you really mean,” I reply, enjoying the way her jaw clenches in irritation. “And I’ll be honest, I don’t know that you’ve truly thought this opportunity through.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Opportunity?” she huffs out, incredulity tinging her tone.
“Because if you had—if you’dreallythought it through—you’d see how many ways this would make your life so much easier and simpler.”
She shifts again in her seat, uncrosses her arms, and leans forward. “Fine. Tell me, oh wise Mr. Calloway, tell me all the ways this will save my desperate, damsel self. Because from whereI’msitting, you sound like an absolute lunatic.”
I smirk. All I needed was her approval to share my reasonings and I know she’ll see it from my perspective. Because Remmy is one of those fake-rebel types.
Shove something in her face and she’ll push back, her desire not to go with someone else’s flow overpowering her actual interests and aspirations. She’s the woman who would never be willing to go along with something if she didn’t want to do it in the first place, regardless of whether her perspective has changed on whether or not that particular thing could help her in any way.
She’s a fighter. A constant, relentless fighter.
And the only way to reason with a fighter is to make them feel like they’re in control.
Hence my need for her to agree to hear me out.
It means she’s in charge. That it was her choice to consider what I have to say.
Even if I’ve orchestrated every step so far.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve pretty much just told me your parents will be kicking you out of the family if you come to them as an unwed pregnant mom, correct?”
She watches me but doesn’t say anything.
“Not only that, I know for a fact your mother loved Lucas since I’ve heard her talk about her ‘future son-in-law’ on multiple occasions. So, I’ll paint a picture of her perspective for you. You went to a subpar collegiate institution, rarely came home, and graduated late without any announcement or fanfare. Then, once youdocome home, you’re pregnant, have broken up with the man your mom thinks you’re going to marry, and have no other father as a potential support for you, a young, unemployed woman who is about to be a single mother.”
I drag my tie through my fingers as I watch her sitting in front of me, her irritation bristling and bubbling for anyone to see.
She looks like she wants to glare daggers at me, but there is disappointment hiding in the depths of her eyes, maybe directed herself.
“Remind me to never have you paint a portrait of my life ever again,” she chides as her gaze slips off into the distance.
I ignore her irritation and focus on convincing her that this is the right move—thebestmove. Because if she agrees to this, all my patience will not be for nothing.
“If you marry me,” I continue, “allof that goes away. Every single bit. No offense to Lucas, but a Calloway is a much bigger fish in our humble little sea…”
Remmy scoffs and rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest or interrupt me.
