Page 32 of Marrying Hope

It’s like fucking witchcraft.

But soon we’ll practice this art too. I just need to understand a few more tools and then we’ll be all set to start.At least I hope so.

Meanwhile I’m helping Ray with other stuff. Two days ago, I helped him with his class project on “Village Life,” pasting animal stickers on cardboard and painting green grass. Last week I taught him how to throw a ball and brought him a leather glove. We now practice regularly.

Hope wasn’t so pleased.

Whenever I give Ray something, she repeats,“I’m gonna pay for that.”

As if I’ll ever take her money.

“So, no one wants this?” I point my fork toward the last chicken wonton piece.

“Go ahead,” Gigi says, sipping her water. “And thank that butler of yours. I can’t believe this is a healthier version. You don’t even feel that healthy unsavoriness.” She rolls her tongue in her mouth.

“But it is.” I nod toward Hope, who is still not happy about William cooking for us.

When I first showed up at their doorstep with food, Hope almost yelled at me, telling me how it’s not good for Gigi’s heart to eat restaurant food every day. So, now William occasionally prepares dinner for all of us, which I bring to the Davis home.

Instead of being happy at my thoughtful gesture, Hope had a perpetual frown on her face throughout the dinner, mumbling often that this isn’t right.Whatever the hell that means.

Finally, when everyone is done, she collects our dishes. “Ray, get ready for bed. I’ll be there soon to read to you.”

“Can Prince read to me tonight?” he asks innocently, unaware of the murderous expression on his mother’s face.

Hope places the plates she just picked up back on the table with force, and I’m glad they didn’t break, else she’d blame me for that too.

“No.” Her eyes narrow on me. “He was supposed to visit you sometimes and build a doghouse. Now—”

“It looks like he lives here,” Gigi finishes her sentence and grins at me.

Unlike Hope, Gigi has warmed up to me, although that’s largely because of the finest Scottish whiskey bottles I gifted her in secret.

“Mom. Don’t encourage him!”

“Hey, I’m still here.” I sit up straight, ready to defend myself more if needed.

But she mumbles, “I have no clue why,” and storms out of the room to the kitchen.

After Gigi and Ray leave the table, I glance in the direction where Hope disappeared.

Over the past few weeks, she’s ignored me, threatened me, made stupid excuses to avoid me, but I shamelessly show up at their door. I know people need time to get used to me and then they can’t resist my charms.

This also gave me a chance to observe life in this house. It’s very different from the one I have.

After the early years of our nightmare, Beast took us in and that’s the only part of my childhood I want to remember. Ray, on the other hand, is affectionately raised by women. They might not have many things in this house but there is love.

Although in her early twenties, Hope appears much older. Her face, devoid of any makeup, has constant lines of worry. Her mom jeans with loose-fitting T-shirts swallow her frame.

Every time I see her exhausted face, I wonder how I can be sure of Ray’s safety when Hope looks like she will collapse any moment? I don’t know how to make this better for her.

I try to offer her support,as she calls it. Fuck I asked her straight away if I could help her financially, which she denied, of course.

My throat tightens thinking of how can she take care of him when she is withering away herself?

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