Page 1 of Claiming Liberty

PROLOGUE

FIVE AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER

Liberty

The sound of classical music, polite but strained conversation, and the clinking of glasses in the ballroom fills me with unease.

In movies, these rich people events look so elegant, so proper. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t envious watching them. From the outside looking in, it seems like a dream come true to be Julia Roberts or Jennifer Lopez or any other poor girl meets rich guy and lives happily ever after character.

I wanted that. And now, in a way, I have it. Or, I’m getting it.

It isn’t quite as sweet as I imagined it would be.

The noise in the ballroom muffles as I gaze at Robert, his mouth moving as he speaks to a couple we’re standing by the bar with. The man’s name is Gregory Husted. The woman’s name is—get this—Mrs. Gregory Husted. That’s how Robert introduced them. She doesn’t even get her own name.

Her head goes back in a laugh when her husband says something about a mix-up at his law firm and good help being hard to find. It isn’t remotely funny, but he has a humored grin and his wife laughed, so I let out a weak chuckle, my lips feeling awkwardly tight.

Robert puts his hand on my lower back, just above my ass, and I turn toward his admiring smile. The tightness in my lips relaxes while we share a moment of understanding, just between the two of us.

These people are bores. When we go back to Robert’s place, he’ll catch me up on the latest gossip about every person in here, and I’ll nod and widen my eyes at the appropriate times as if I actually care. In a way, I do. Not about the gossip per se, but about the fact that he doesn’t seem to enjoy these people’s company any more than I do.

No matter what the movies seem to portray, I don’t for one second feel like I’ll ever belong in this world. Certainly not at this charity event. There’s an ice sculpture for chrissake.

Even while attending Harvard undergrad, I never really connected with my ‘Daddy helped me get in’ classmates. It was my off-campus coworkers I made the closest relationships with.

Despite feeling so out of place, I do feel like I belong inRobert’sworld. He tries, harder than he has to, to make me feel that way. Which is why he dragged me to this thing to begin with. He wants me to be a part of his life, all aspects of it. I think it’s sweet, despite him never seeming to want to dip his toes into the water of my pool. My friends probably think I’ve made him up considering how elusive he seems to be when they come around.

But can I really blame him? It can’t be the easiest thing, going from champagne and white tablecloths to Budweiser and sticky bar tops.

“So,” Mrs. Husted draws, waggling one long, black nail—more like a claw than anything else—between Robert and me. “Where did you two meet?”

Her lipstick-stained teeth show when she fake smiles, and I catch the way her eyes dip to my feet. I’m wearing stilettos tonight, and I probably look like a fucking baby giraffe in them with how much I shift my weight, trying not to topple over. If Robert hadn’t gifted them to me, they’d probably be snuggled up with a banana peel in a dumpster right now.

I straighten my spine and lock my knees, my body as rigid as a statue.

Heat flushes my cheeks at the pointedness in her question, but I try to shove my insecurities about how we met down and open my mouth to answer.

“Liberty is studying law at Harvard,” Robert says, drawing my attention to him. He puts his arm around my shoulders and hugs me to him. “We met at one of the football games. She was actually on a date with another student when we wound up with seats right next to each other.” He looks down at me and beams while I stare at him blankly, wondering how he can look so genuine right now. Genuine about a story I know to be fiction.

“Ah, so you wanted a real man,” Gregory says. “Smart girl.”

I turn to him, my breath catching. No one seems to notice.

“I miss the games,” Gregory’s shadow says, her lower lip pouted.

“You didn’t even go to Harvard,” Gregory retorts with open contempt.

She flushes. “I can still enjoy supporting your alma mater, dear.”

“Excuse me,” I say, breaking away from Robert. It suddenly feels stuffy in here. And crowded. A little hard to breathe.

Robert takes my wrist to stop me from leaving, turning his back on the couple.

“Where are you going?” he asks, a warning in his tone. I’m embarrassing him.

My mouth opens, ready to blurt out the hurt I feel for him bullshitting about how we met.

I worked for a maintenance company that was contracted out to Robert’s office building. He worked late nights, and I happened to be the one to empty his trash cans.

---