Page 42 of Grumpy Bossy Billionaire Enemy

Henry kissed me on my forehead. “I feel like you’re keeping something away from me.” Henry held me by the waist and his eyes searched mine.

I felt a burning sensation tingling down my spine. I was afraid that Henry could see what was going on in my head. I was scared that he’d be hurt over what I thought of our marriage.

“Whatever you decide, know that I’ll support you.”

“I know,” I replied, and he kissed my hand.

“I want to ask you something.” Henry looked up at me.

“What would you have done differently if your parents hadn’t told you what to do?”

I looked away from Henry, the white washed ceiling helping me remember what my childhood had felt like. I sighed heavily as the memories flushed my brain.

“As a child, I wanted to be an artist,” I replied. “I used to have this plain book I always drew in. I always kept it under my bed because I didn’t want my parents to find out.”

I paused, and a smile curved up to my cheeks. “Mother caught me with it one time, and she made me promise never to tell my father. She told me to bury the dream, and that I was growing up to be a doctor just like my father.”

“Did you keep the book?” Henry asked. I looked back at him, reminded that I loved him so much.

“No, I didn’t keep the book. I didn’t bother to keep it up after I was caught with it.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry said. “What else would you do differently?”

I looked at Henry’s sympathetic face. I hesitated to answer. “I wouldn’t have gotten married,” I announced. “Maybe not at twenty-five.”

“Thank you for being honest,” Henry offered.

“It doesn’t change how I feel about you.” I swallowed. “Or what I feel for you?”

“I know.” Henry’s hand fell on my thigh. “Trust me, I know.”

Henry and I ate silently, his favorite background music sounding slower than usual. The mood in our home had dampened by each hour. We went to bed, barely uttering another word. After speaking with Henry that night, I feared that I wanted to defy my parents’ strict rule. I might start from my arranged marriage with Henry. I know Henry feared the same, and I was more than sorry it had to come to that. But I had to do what I had to do.

Chapter nineteen

The Child Outside

Henry

Amelia barely said a word since we spoke last night. A few times after that, I blamed myself for bringing up a conversation. What was I expecting from someone who was still hurting from her childhood? I thought her love for me would outweigh the hurt, but I was wrong. Nothing outweighs the hurt you get from your parents. You just have to heal. I had been in this phase once myself and have come to know that healing from a pain such as that may take months, years, or forever.

I could wait for months or years, but I couldn't bear to live forever without Amelia. Sometimes, what made two people parents was the pain they could cause their children. One could only hope that we learn from these mistakes and not do the same to our children.

Amelia’s phase of rebellion may extend to our marriage – one thing I wanted to avoid. Call me selfish, but Amelia’s love was the best thing I’d had in my life in a long while. I was not ready to lose it. I decided to host Troy and Camille at our home for dinner – just a little family dinner we ought to have at my mother’s house. I was doing this because I wanted Amelia to get out of her shell for a few hours. I was also doing it because Troy and Camille had been banned from Mother’s house. She still hadn’t accepted Camille into the family, and I was sure that her grudge toward Troy and his wife would go on for a long time.

The doorbell rang, and Troy held a wine bottle in his hand. Camille’s warm smile felt familiar, and she pulled me in for a quick hug. Troy shook my hand as they walked into our home. Troy looked horrible like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep in a long while. He also looked like a man fighting his demons. Running the biggest hospital in Richmond was enough of a reason to look tired, coupled with Mother’s constant victimization of his marriage with Camille.

I was sure Troy’s problem had a lot to do with the latter, as he had been running the hospital for over two decades. A few challenges would not make him look like a man who had just escaped a zombie apocalypse.

“You don’t look good,” I whispered to Troy.

Troy nodded slightly to say, “I know.” He glanced over at Camille who was glad to see her friend two days in a row.

We sat at the table, opening the meal bowls prepared by the caterer, and we dug into it. There was light chatter among the girls, while Troy and I talked about Mother’s troubles with his marriage. Amelia and Camille went into the kitchen, gossiping about everything happening in their lives while Troy and I entered tough territory. I told him what I had always told him. Mother wouldn’t stop unless she had a reason. Troy must pass the test of time if he must keep his marriage. Then, he suggested we go to the study, away from the girls. He opened a little box with a ring in it. I made a joke asking if the ring was mine.

“I’m planning to propose to Camille again,” Troy said, pushing me off balance.

“What?”

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