Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Amelia, look, last night was the best night I have ever had. It was the first time I have ever done anything like that. I want more of that, more of us.”
“I really liked it, too, but…” She gazed off to the side and pulled away from me.
“Then come home with me. Let me show you that every night can be like that. Come home, move in with me, and let’s plan the wedding you want, that we want.”
“Luc… I…”
“Amelia, baby, when we got engaged, I didn’t ask for your hand. I blackmailed your mother. Now, I am asking. The blackmail is gone. It does not exist, and even if it did, I wouldn’t use it. I am asking you.”
I dropped to one knee in the grass and held her hand in mine. “Amelia Mae Astrid, will you do me the honor of letting me love you, cherish, and provide for you? Will you be my wife?”
She looked at me for several long moments, tears streaming down her beautiful face, and looking directly into my eyes, she said the one word that destroyed me.
“No.”
CHAPTER 34
AMELIA
One Month Later
The crisp September breeze finally displaced New York’s August humidity.
Fall was pushing its way in, and the city seemed eager for summer to end.
In the evenings, the sidewalks were full of people walking hand in hand.
What was it about New York City and couples? The second someone became single, it was like every happy couple in New York got a text message to go outside and be in love around the miserable, lonely people. All I saw every single day were beautiful, happy couples in love.
It was just rude.
After I left Luc in the sculpture gardens, I took a cab back to the city and called my brother.
Harrison helped me secure my first, very own apartment in Dumbo, a trendy Brooklyn neighborhood that was just far enough away that I would never see my mother.
He helped me set up everything and made himself available whenever I needed him, but also gave me the space I needed to figure out what I wanted to do.
Rose had even started coming over more and spending the night. She had also begun to distance herself from our mother. Something had happened that pushed her to rebel more, but she wouldn’t talk about it, saying that she would when she was ready.
It was odd, but after only a week of having my own place, surrounded by color and life, I felt lighter. I no longer felt like every decision could make or break me.
The world wasn’t out to get me, and I didn’t have to impress anyone.
I started living for myself; it was new, and I loved it.
I also felt closer to my siblings. There was so much about Harrison that I didn’t know, and Rose seemed like a different person when we weren’t both under our mother’s roof.
It only took a few days of ignoring my mother’s calls while soul searching, missing Luc, and talking to Harrison for me to make a plan.
I needed to be useful.
Thankfully, Harrison also strong-armed our mother into making sure I got every single penny of my trust fund. He was overseeing all of it for me and managing the investments, so I had enough money to be comfortable.
It wasn’t the lavish lifestyle I had in the mansion, not by a long shot, but I was adapting.
I had enough money that I didn’t need to work, but I had no interest in squandering my days shopping and dining at cafés. I was convinced that was what turned women like my mother into bored, hateful shrews—women who had no real purpose and no drive, so they spent their time trying to outdo each other. Be it with self-serving “charity” work, becoming the new middle-aged “it girl,” or outspending each other in the plastic surgeon’s office.
That life seemed shallow, and I couldn’t do it.
I just had no idea what I could do. My education had never been intended to be training for a career. I had no experience working, no marketable skills. Nothing.
“You love art,” Harrison said, sitting on the dark green velvet couch I had bought at an amazing consignment shop a few blocks over. He and Rose were over that night to hang out for a dinner of Chinese takeout eaten straight from the paper boxes with disposable chopsticks.
“I do love art.” I nodded, trying to hold on to a particularly slippery piece of orange chicken. “But sadly, I have no talent.”
“That is ridiculous,” Rose said with a wave of her hand that sent the piece of broccoli she was holding in her chopsticks flying through the air so that it hit Harrison in the face.
Rose and I fell into hysterics while he rolled his eyes and wiped his forehead with a napkin. Then he reached over to steal her container and handed her one with chow mein noodles.