After I scratch my name across the paper, I watch as she does her pretty loops and even makes a heart on the last letter of her name.
“Is that it?” I ask, and the minister nods. Turning with Phoebe’s hand in mine, I look directly at her father. “Your check is by the front door. Good night.”
Chapter Three
Phoebe
Boone is quick to dismiss my parents. I think they are as shocked as I am at the coldness he throws at them. I stare at my mother, expecting her to say something, but all her attention is on Boone’s brother. I think his name is Curt if I remember right from one of the articles I read. Boone hadn’t bothered to introduce me to him.
I’m not sure how to take that. Who am I kidding? I don’t know how to take any of this, especially how Boone is behaving since I’ve gotten here. I almost think he’s mad. If he’s so angry about having to marry me, then why did he push for this? Not only that, push for it so quickly. I was barely out of the car and he was pulling me down the aisle.
I’d actually hatched a plan to see if I could delay the wedding for a few days so we could have some time to get to know each other. I was going to plead that I’d like to invite more people and do this wedding the proper way. Really it was only a tactic to buy more time so I could initiate the plan Marley and I hatched to annoy the crap out of Boone. The hope was that he’d send me packing, but so much for all that.
“No reception or even a dinner?” My mother finally speaks, but she’s still staring at Curt.
I peek over at the man to try and see why she is staring at him. Boone shifts to block my view, which isn’t hard. He’s at least a foot taller than me, and I’m in heels. He glares down at me, and I wonder what the heck I did wrong. I’ve barely said three words to him at this point.
“If you’re hungry, I believe there’s a diner in Hollow Oak. Go there and eat.” Boone grabs me by the wrist. “Show them out,” he tells his brother.
“I swear Mom dropped you on your fucking head,” I hear Curt say as Boone starts to pull me out of the room.
“I can’t say goodbye?” I ask as I try to keep up with him. He stops abruptly and looks down at me.
“You want to say goodbye to the people who sold you off?” I flinch and try to pull my hand out from his grip. It only makes him tighten his hold on me. He’s silently making it clear I’m not getting free. “Fine. We’ll say goodbye.” He starts to guide me in that direction, but I shake my head.
“Never mind.”
“What?” He stops again, and I realize I barely whispered the words.
“I don’t need to say goodbye.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. As much as his words hurt, they’re true. I turn to face them, and they're still standing where we left them. “I owe you nothing now. We’re even.” He can take that stupid list of his and shove it up his ass.
“Phoebe,” my father calls. At least he finally looks ashamed. “I—”
“You heard my wife. She’s done with you,” Boone clarifies for me. I’m not sure that’s fully what I meant, but him calling me his wife has my head spinning.
It’s stupid, because of course I’m his wife. We had the ceremony, and I signed on the dotted line. The weight of the ring he put on my finger is heavy, reminding me of ownership. There’s no forgetting it, but it’s strange to hear someone call me a wife. And now I’ve got a husband.
“Are you hungry?” Boone asks, leading me down a long hallway. I finally start to take in the beautiful house. “Phoebe, I asked you a question.”
He did? Oh, hungry. My stomach is in knots, but I nod my head, worried that if I say no we’ll head straight to the marital bed. Oh god. I have to have sex tonight.
“Calm.” Boone stops and turns to me. “What are you thinking? You just froze up like you’ve seen a ghost.” The man really must be paying more attention to me than I realized. I thought he was pulling me around like a doll.
“Sex,” I blurt out and heat rushes to my face. “I’m scared.”
“There’s nothing to be scared of. I won’t hurt you.” He stares down at me, his green eyes darker than I remember. He’s more handsome than I remember too. Why does this man need to buy a bride? There has to be some weird catch I’m missing. “I’m not into pain.”
“You promise?” I ask, having a strong feeling that Boone is a man of his word. I don’t know why, but I can sense it, or maybe I’m lying to myself so that I don’t spiral into a panic attack.
“I will never intentionally harm you, but a woman’s first time is—”
“Who said it was my first time?”
Boone’s nose flares, his jaws flexing as he draws in a breath. I’m glad I’m not the only one with a few jealousy problems. I’m still wondering about the stupid model I saw him with.
“I suppose we won’t have to worry about that then.”
“Are you going to send me back?”
Was it that easy? A small little lie and I’m free? I married him. Can he take back the money he promised my parents even though I followed through? Do I even want to go back is the bigger question.
“No. You’re mine.” His eyes are intense as he holds my chin. “Don’t forget that. I might not be your first but I’ll be your last. That’s all that matters.” He drops his hand and straightens his shoulders. “Now are you hungry or not?”
When I nod, he guides me into an overly formal dining room that I can imagine big parties being hosted at. Or that’s what my mother would do with a dining room of this caliber. My mind drifts to it only being used for big family dinners such as Thanksgiving or Christmas, which is around the corner. Maybe even when you have a birthday party with lots of people.
Boone pulls out a chair for me at the head of the table, and I take a seat. He grabs the napkin, placing it into my lap. I smooth it out, getting the first real look at the giant ring on my finger. It’s almost obnoxious. I could assault someone with this thing. Still, I find myself running my finger over it. I think I love it if I’m honest with myself. It’s taken me more off guard than anything.
Boone Adler is a private man from what I could gather. He doesn’t do things to be flashy or try to live up to any lifestyle. He doesn’t play that game, which annoys most people. That’s why I don’t understand the ring. Then again, I don’t really understand any of this.
As Boone takes the seat adjacent to mine, an old woman comes fluttering into the room with two plates, setting them in front of us.
“Thank you,” I say, but as quick as she was there, she’s gone again.
“Where’s my plate?” Curt asks, strolling into the dining room.
“At your own house.” Boone is back out of his chair, manhandling his brother back out of the dining room. I can’t make out their hushed hard words, but I wonder if they’re on good terms. They must be to some degree or why else would he have invited his brother here at all?
Boone returns a few moments later. “You can eat,” he says as he pulls out his chair and sits back down. I pick up my fork and push my food around my plate. “You don’t like it?”