Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“He’s an asshole, but that doesn’t really change anything, right? I’m not marrying him for his personality.”
Kim chews her lip. “Why are you marrying him then?”
I go quiet and try to think up a way to explain it without making her upset. But there’s no easy way to say my dad is abusing me.
Except she knows that, doesn’t she? Everyone knows what my old man’s like. Maybe they don’t realize how bad it can get, but they know, the same way I know Kim’s mom is a total piece of work and her dad is basically nonexistent and her uncle once hit on her at a wedding. Everyone knows, but everyone’s got their own problems to figure out, and that leaves me grasping at bad options.
“You know the way things are right now. After what Cormac did, it’s like we’re diseased or something. I just want to fix what my brother broke.” Which is mostly true, but it doesn’t mention the ugly stuff. I’m tired of doing domestic labor for my lazy, uncaring father. I’m tired of the insults and I’m tired of the bruises. I’m sick of feeling like I’m not worth anything just because my alcoholic asshole parent looks at me like I’m a salt-covered slug.
“And you think marrying a guy just because Ronan wants you to will help?” Kim doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s a good idea.
“I think I have to do something.” I lean closer to her, feeling a wave of desperation. “I mean, what else do I have? Seriously, what else? I’m twenty-two and still a virgin. I’ve barely been on dates, barely had boyfriends, and what prospects do I have? At least this way, I know I’ll have a partner, and I can be a little bit useful.”
God, it’s so pathetic, saying it out loud.
“You’re not just… just… breeding stock.” Kim throws back her wine and turns to me, cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to marry a guy just to give yourself purpose. Seriously, there’s got to be a better way.”
Except there isn’t. Kim’s life is hard, but to her the world works in certain ways. She opens her eyes in the morning, and she knows what she’s doing with her day—that’s just the kind of person she is. Guys want her, and she’s happy and outgoing. Yeah, she didn’t go to college either, and her family’s about as fucked up as mine is, but that doesn’t seem to matter for her—she’s got the kind of personality that opens doors.
I’m not like that. It sucks and I hate it, but I can’t change how things are. I love Kim, but she’s not at rock bottom. Not like me.
“It’s not like he’s taking me away,” I say, mostly musing out loud. “He’s got roots in Chicago, right? Maybe we’ll take trips to France, which could be pretty fun, but overall, it’ll be normal. I’ll still be here.”
“You don’t even know the guy. He could be a controlling asshole.”
Possessive is the word he’d use. I give her a reassuring smile. “I can handle it.”
“I don’t know.” She runs a finger along the base of her wine glass. “You hear things, right? Like how a guy seems decent at first but once you become his wife, it’s like suddenly all the abusive shit he’s been hiding comes out. Like he thinks he owns you.”
“Julien wants to marry me about as much as I want to marry him. He’s making that pretty clear.”
“I know, I know, it’s just that I worry about you.”
“I know you do. But this is a good thing, I promise.”
She doesn’t look convinced, and I’m not sure I’m doing a good job making her feel better. Except I’m not really sure I can make her feel better, not when I share all the same reservations and worries.
I just keep thinking that marrying Julien can’t be any worse than living at home with my dad. It just can’t, and I might as well take the risk. From where I’m at, I can’t go lower.
We change the subject, which is a huge relief. Bloody Strike gets crowded as the night wears on and a couple cousins I’m not really familiar with sit down near us. One of them keeps looking in my direction, this younger guy with a peach-fuzz mustache and narrow eyes. I try to ignore it, but lately this has been happening more and more—it’s like I’m infamous because my brother was a fucking asshole. Cormac tried to start a revolt, and I’m somehow getting lumped in with him.
“Hey, you,” Peachfuzz says after about three beers, which I guess is what he needed to work up the courage. “You’re Cormac’s sister, aren’t you?”
“Fuck off, asshole,” Kim says, waving a dismissive hand. She grabs me and turns me away from the guy, giving me a meaningful look. I finish my drink and get ready to leave.