Page 162 of If You Claim Me
I stall another twenty minutes, but I don’t want Meems to have to come to me.
She’s waiting for me in the living room when I descend the stairs. She doesn’t look sad, or frail, or like she had heart surgery less than two weeks ago. She looks like a wrathful angel.
She points to the chair across from her. “Sit.”
I follow her orders. My throat is tight, my mouth dry, my eyes burning. I’ve ruined my life, and I have no one to blame but myself. I deserve her disappointment and her anger.
“When will you stop sabotaging yourself?”
“She left me,” I point out, stupidly.
“Why are you pushing her away?”
“The family’s about to be dragged through the mud, thanksto Father. Mildred doesn’t need to be put through that, too.” It’s a weak excuse that holds no merit.
“Your father’s idiot choices are his own, and yes, there will be shit flinging, but it’s not as though she hasn’t already endured it. Now try again, with the truth this time.”
“Mildred ran into financial issues back in September.”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“I’m explaining.” I run a hand down my face. “I saw how much she cared about you, and how much you cared about her, so I told her I would take care of the situation…if she agreed to marry me. I didn’t want you to think I was going to end up alone, so I made her sign a contract.”
Meems throws the closest object at me, which thankfully is a box of tissues and not something she’ll regret breaking. She also has terrible aim, so it hits me in the arm and drops to the floor. “You made her sign a contract?”
“I did it for you! I wanted you to be happy!”
“I would have been more than happy for Dred to be your girlfriend. You didn’t need to make her your wife.”
“She never would have stayed with me otherwise! My own family can’t even stand me.”
“You silly, ridiculous man. You will fight anything, won’t you?” She sighs and shakes her head. “You always manage to do things the hard way, even when you have alternatives.”
“What other option did I have?”
“You could have done what I suggested in the first place and asked her out on a date,” she points out.
“She never would have said yes. Her best friend hated me.” It’ll be present tense again once he finds out she’s left me, and why.
“She said yes to marrying you,” Meems argues.
“Only because she didn’t have another option.”
“Didn’t she?” She shakes her head. “Always and forever the hard way. Even when you were a little boy.”
“Nothing has changed, obviously.”
“Shut up and listen,” Meems snaps.
I shut my stupid mouth.
“There was an event.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember the details.
“There was always an event,” I supply, unhelpfully.
She shoots me a look. “Your father always needed to throw a party so everyone could celebrate the amazing things he did, and you and your sisters were always on display. Your sisters loved the dresses, at least for the first couple of hours, because they could pretend they were princesses.”
“The fairy tale worked for them,” I mumble.
