Total pages in book: 296
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
Benjamin and I have one thing in common, and that’s money. Well, my parents’ money. They would’ve done whatever it took to get me out of there and back on Benjamin’s arm, looking like the proper fiancée. The whole charade is disgusting, and it sickens me that my parents believe I want that. For my entire life, I’ve followed a certain set of rules while bending just enough not to get into trouble. Traveling and exploring new places are what I love to do, and as long as I always returned and plastered a smile on my face around my family, they never asked any questions. However, now they’ve demanded I start thinking about my future, which involves being Benjamin’s arm candy. They probably expect me to have kids right away, too, since I don’t have a prominent career. Then I’ll have the picture-perfect family.
By a quarter till six, I’m rested, showered, and dressed for what is going to be the worst dinner in history. Benjamin might have my parents fooled, but not me. I see straight through his bullshit.
“You look beautiful,” he says after I meet everyone downstairs. He’s early, of course. Leaning in and kissing my cheek, he acts as the perfect gentleman. I watch as my parents beam with pride. I suck in a breath, resisting the urge to slap him.
“Such a gorgeous couple,” my mom gushes, clasping her hands together as Benjamin wraps his arm around me. “Come sit. Dinner’s ready.”
Benjamin holds out my chair for me, and I take my seat. Dad immediately talks about work as Mom brings out the final dish.
“Time for grace, dear,” Mom tells Dad, and we all hold hands. My mother speaks, and once she says, “Amen,” we all repeat it, and I immediately yank my hand from Benjamin’s.
Shortly after we pass around all the food and our plates are full, my mom leads the conversation to the wedding, just as I suspected she would.
“So what time of year are you two thinking? We could do a gorgeous spring wedding,” she suggests. “Though if you two can’t wait that long, a fall themed one would be amazing, too.”
“The sooner, the better,” Benjamin says, winking at my mom, which makes her blush.
Oh, give me a fucking break.
“What about you, Zoey?” my father asks as if they just realized I was in the room. “What time of year were you thinking?”
“Oh, um. I was thinking about the season of never.” I flash a smile, then dive into my potatoes.
“Zoey.” My father’s warning tone makes me look up at him. “What’s going on?”
I drop my fork, deciding now’s the time. “I’m already married, so marrying Benjamin isn’t going to be possible.” I shrug. “Also, I hate him.”
“What do you mean you’re already married?” My mother gasps, pressing a hand to her chest over her heart as if I’ve given her the worst news of her life.
“It’s nothing we can’t take care of,” Benjamin intervenes, plastering on a confident grin and completely ignoring my comment about him.
“Who? When?” Finally. My father asks good questions.
“His name is Riley Bishop,” I tell them, but saying his name aloud causes my stomach to flip. “We met in Vegas, and he’s who I went to visit in Texas these past few weeks.”
“Why would you marry a stranger?” my father asks, his face distorted. “What does he do?” Of course he’d ask about his career.
I shrug, not wanting to give him the details of our drunken dare to elope. “He’s a rancher. His family owns a huge cattle and horse ranch in Eldorado, Texas. They own a bed and breakfast on the land and a bar in town.”
“It’s Southern white trash,” Benjamin hisses. “The place is filthy.”
I snap my gaze to his. “You’re just pissed Riley kicked your ass,” I say without thinking.
“What?” my parents both say.
“I’m not marrying Benjamin.”
“Zoey…” Dad warns. “Whatever this is, whatever it is you’re going through, we’ll figure it out. File the annulment papers, and we can cover it up. No big deal.” He fans out his napkin, then places it gently on his lap. “Can you pass the salt, please?”
He ends the conversation as if my words meant nothing to him. I just said I’m not marrying Benjamin, and my father asks me to pass the fucking salt? What is wrong with my goddamn family?
“Did you hear what I said?” I ask him pointedly as he waits for the shaker.
“I did, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop acting like a child. Salt, now.”
My blood boils as years of pent-up aggravation hit the surface at the realization that I’m nothing more than a political ploy to them. Marry off their daughter to a hotshot doctor and basically change everything about myself to make them happy.
It stops now. My chair scrapes against the floor as I push away from the table, the three of them looking up at me wide-eyed as I stand. I toss my napkin down on my plate and scowl. “I’m done. Excuse me.”