I wallow.
I curse myself.
I breathe in and out so sloppily and hastily that I nearly hyperventilate.
My eyes stray back to the TV, to the stupid game I had playing there. You know, half an hour ago, when things were relatively normal. And by normal, I mean significantly less fucked up for me but still ultra-fucked up because who does that? Who does what I did? Feeney has more than a point.
I deserve to lose her and every bit of goodness I’ve found. Every shred of happiness, every scrap of decency, I deserve it.
But I can’t let it happen.
I quickly leap off the couch as if someone ass punched me from below, then I reach for my phone. Only, it’s not there. Of course it’s not there.
I run out the back and finally find it in the grass, right by the deck. I hastily punch in the number for Feeney’s parents because I know it’s where she’s heading. Unlike me, she doesn’t believe in cowering and hiding, and unlike me, she believes in standing up for herself. Also, unlike me, she is not a piece of salty shit.
Maybe a little bit of Feeney’s goodness rubbed off on me because as the phone starts ringing, I already know what I have to do.
CHAPTER 23
Feeney
This madness is going to end, and it’s going to end now.
I don’t so much enter my parent’s house as I do storm in. Behind me, Luke’s car is in the driveway because I didn’t have any other choice. And it’s not like he won’t get it back. My dad will have someone drive it over as soon as I leave without it. I’ll even be nice and leave the keys.
Within minutes, both my parents come fluttering into the entranceway. The house is crazy huge, and after being in Luke’s house for a month, getting used to things on a far less grand and way more scaled-down size, everything seems disproportionately large. And shiny. Good lord, I don’t remember it ever being this bright in here. The lights overhead glisten off the marble tile in the entrance.
I’m not going in any further, even when I see how worried both my parents look as they come running. Obviously, Luke called them because it took me forever to get over here. He had time, and obviously, he found his phone.
I know they know because they both look guilty. They also look exactly how I remember—finely tuned. Not ritzy or anything, but wearing expensive, designer clothes. My dad in dress pants and a dress shirt. I think he sleeps in that outfit because I’ve never seen him wear anything else. My mom is dressed to match, in black pants and a red sweater with a black and white scarf tied at her neck.
I don’t want to soften, and I can’t soften because mixed in with all that guilt, I sense concern. Also, frantic worry because I’m their daughter, and they don’t want anything bad to happen to me. They never wanted me to get hurt.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I cross my arms just like I did at Luke’s. “You’ve all gone insane. I can’t believe you were going to trade me off to someone just so you could merge his company with yours and kill your competition. I can’t believe you talked him into it! Am I just some old shirt you swap out for a new one when the time’s right? Or rather, when you get sick of having me around, you make me someone else’s problem, but you make sure to do it to get a nice tidy bonus out of it? Did you have me only to one day barter me in exchange for something else? I keep thinking this isn’t the Victorian era, but I think I’m wrong. You’re both definitely living in the wrong time.”
“Now, Feeney,” Dad starts using that I’m your parent, I know best, so listen to me tone I really can’t stand at any time, especially not now.
“Honey, we wanted what was best for you. You’re making this seem like something it’s not.” Mom takes a different route than Dad for a change. “We weren’t trying to trade you in or barter you in exchange for something. The deal wasn’t dependent on you being with Maxwell or not being with him. We just wanted you to be happy and safe with someone who would look after you instead of treating you badly.”
“In what? An arranged marriage?”
“You did say you wanted one,” Dad says sheepishly.
He looks sidelong at my mom, completely out of his element. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad look like that. He always has everything under control. He’s used to dealing with bullshit at work, and he’s pretty good at defusing things and having them go his way. He has the magic touch, I guess. But not this time. Oh, no. Not this time.
“I didn’t mean it! I was just…just venting! Jesus! How could you think this would be in anyone’s best interest?”
“I didn’t mean it to come out the way it did,” Dad sputters. “I didn’t mean you had to marry him. We were trying to tell you that we just wanted you both to meet. We were trying to tell you that Maxwell had a son who needed a mother figure in his life. We know you like children.”
“Why does everyone say that about me?!”
“What your dad wanted to say was that we wanted you to meet Maxwell and his son, and if you felt it was right, then he’d be open to an arrangement. A marriage where you could both live your lives, but in a way where you could both be happy and where his son would be loved and looked after.”
“That’s the worst freaking idea I’ve ever heard!” I snap. “Why would you think something like that could work? That I would ever agree to it?”
“Well, you did say—”
“I know what I said!” I feel like combusting. Now I totally get those cartoon characters with steam or smoke blowing out of the top of their heads. I feel like that’s me—a big, steaming, cartoon character.
“I’m sorry,” Dad chokes.
Not like how Luke apologized. I can tell he really doesn’t mean it. He’s completely baffled at the moment, and he can’t understand why I’m upset. I decide to help him out since I’m feeling less than gracious at the moment. Shit, it’s not like I don’t have a right to it.
Own it, people say.
Well, I’m going to be over here, owning my very justifiable anger.
“I can’t believe you asked someone to marry me like I’m completely hopeless. I don’t care if it was with good intent or not because who the heck does that? And you did wrap it up with a business deal, which is just crazy and wrong. Even if it didn’t depend on it, I still think it kind of did, and you should never have talked about the two together. You shouldn’t have talked about it anyway. Plus, you then, after I left this house, tricked me into staying with the very man I wanted nothing to do with! You couldn’t just leave it at my refusal. You couldn’t just mend the bridges that were on fire. You had to go and pour freaking gasoline all over them and really ignite them! I can’t believe you did this! Both of you!”
“We really did want to make sure you were safe. You’ve had a few bad experiences, and you’re not…you’re not very street-savvy,” Mom pleads.
“Street smarts? Whose fault is it that I don’t have street smarts? You guys sent me to boarding school, and then you paid for an Ivy League school. I haven’t been allowed to see the world! I wasn’t even really allowed to study what I wanted! I’ve never been able to go anywhere I wanted, or even do what I wanted!”