Page 11 of Wife Unwanted
"Have you ever thought of marriage?"
Thalia withdrew her hand and looked away. "Why do you ask?" Her voice was shaky? With emotion or something else? I couldn't tell. She dug her toe into the sand.
"Do you ever want to get married?"
"E-eventually, yeah."
"Most people marry for love. Are you one of those people?" She whipped her head up. Her eyes were wide and watery. It must be the wind. She looked down again. "I feel like we've stumbled into a serious topic." She chuckled nervously.
I drew her to me and forced her to look at me. "My father wants me to get married. He is a man who always gets what hewants. I don't want to give him that. If I don't get married, he will look for a wife for me."
She sucked in her breath. "W-why. You're still young."
A small gust of wind blew past, fanning her curls around us. She was so beautiful it made my heart ache. She would be perfect, I decided. I wasn't sure before, but it solidified in that moment. I didn't want to let her go. I wanted her to be mine. Images flashed through my mind. Thalia in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle toward me. Thalia barefoot and pregnant with my child. Thalia beside me at every function. All I had to do was convince her she wants the same.
"My father has had a plan worked out for me ever since I was young. He wants me to enter political office. And to do that, he has pretty much dictated every aspect of my life. From the school I attended to the programs I took, to the people I dated." I clasped both of her hands in mine. "And now he wants to dictate who I marry."
"Carey…"
"I do not want to marry some snobbish socialite my father picks for me. I may not have much choice in life, but I want to choose this. Which is why I have a proposition for you."
"Carey…"
"Marriage. With me. I can't promise a lot. I know you don't love me, but people have married for less. You don't have to worry about me cheating on you, because these past few weeks have shown you're the only person I want to be with. I have quite a large bank account—"
"—I don't care about your money."
"I know, but you won't have to work two jobs in order to survive. And besides that, I feel like we have good rapport. We like the same things. Marriage between us can't be that bad." I stopped feeling like I had spouted a ton of words without pause.
Thalia was visibly shocked. "Um, it's a little much."
"I know. You don't have to say yes right now. You can think about it."
"Are you sure your father wants you to marry some snobbish socialite, as you say?"
"He said as much."
"How do you know marrying me won't anger him?"
I let go of my hold and took a stepped back. "He may not see it yet, but you would make a superb politician's wife, if that's what you want, of course."
She took my hand again. "Is that what you want? You don't have to do everything your father says."
That was the problem, wasn't it? As much as I hated my father's overbearing nature, part of me wanted the same goals as he had for me. I wanted to become a lawyer. I wanted to pursue political office. The only issue was sometimes, it was hard to tell when my own goals ended and when my inherent need to please my father started.
"One thing's for certain. I know I want you. Will you marry me Thalia MacNeal?"
I held my breath as I waited for her response. My heart thumped against my chest as I realized I wanted her to say yes more than anything in the world.
She looked down again and for a moment I thought she was thinking of some way to let me down gently until she said, "If that's what you want, then yes."
Chapter 7
Thalia
6 months later
THE CLOSER THEwedding date approached, the sicker I felt. Carey was a good man who did not deserve to be deceived. I had no choice but to continue our relationship now that I had committed myself to marrying him. Not that I was complaining. Carey was a wonderful fiance. The best a bride to be could ever wish for. And I felt horrible every time I would find him waiting for me after work, usually with a gift in hand. Most of the times it would be simply a bouquet. Sometimes, especially when I finish early, he would have a box of 'experience' as he would call it, for me to open. I would find a ticket to a concert, a festival brochure, or an image of a beautiful private island he was taking me to. Each time I opened them, my heart would swell, only to sink with guilt.
