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Dammit.
Chapter 2
Claire
“What the hell are you doing?” I set my purse down and draw a deep breath, trying my hardest not to sound like a bitch. My tone is hard despite my best attempts, but I can’t rein in the temper that flares at the sight of Owen packing to leave.
“We agreed. We agreed to elope,” I remind him as I approach, furious when all he can do is continue to grab things and shove them into a bag. He’s so hurried and rigid that he’s not pausing to fold anything anymore, just flying through his drawers to remove his clothes and stash them in the bag on the bed.
“We agreed, yeah. Sure. I agreed to elope because you were just so in love with me.” He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “In love. What a bunch of bullshit.”
I gape at him until anger takes over me. “How dare you! You’re calling me a liar? Accusing me of not wanting to marry you?” I stab my finger at my chest. “I was just there at the courthouse. I showed up while you didn’t bother.”
“No.” He pushes the bag flap down. “No. How dare you try to trick me like this.” He points to his phone lying on the comforter. “I got a call from your mother.”
Oh, shit. My stomach tenses again.
“She found out about our plans to elope. Which was so interesting. Because when I asked if you would like to wait until she could come, you insisted she was too busy on vacation. She wasn’t, Claire. She was just at home, stunned to discover your plans to elope. She said she hadn’t heard a word about this. None!”
Fine. He caught me in a lie there, but that doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. If he really wanted to marry me before speaking with my mother, the little technicality about if I told her or not shouldn’t make a difference. Of course, I didn’t tell my mother about this.
“She called me, asking where I got the idea I should marry you when you belonged with someone else.”
I cover my face, feeling like my world is imploding. I plop onto the chair and groan. “I’m not.” She would make it sound so awful. “I don’t belong to anyone.” Then I lift my face and narrow my eyes at him. “Actually, I thought that I would ‘belong’ to you, since we were supposed to elope, and I’d be your wife by now.”
He shakes his head, scowling. “I see how it is. I know what you were trying to do. She offered me a freaking bribe, Claire. When I told her we wanted to get married because we were in love, she laughed. She laughed! Like it was such a crazy idea.”
I wince, hating that his pride is coming to the forefront.
“So she offered to pay me off if I didn’t show up and marry you. What kind of a woman does that?” He resumes packing even faster than before. “At first, I was offended. Then I worried about how she could do that to her daughter, but then she explained.”
I’m sure.
“She told me that you could only want to marry me—and so quickly—just to get her to leave you alone.”
“And I won’t get sympathy from you on that front, then?” I retort.
“It’s not mine to give. I don’t have time to get between whatever drama you have with your mom. I’m not going to be a scapegoat or an easy out for you. I told you that I would elope because I thought you loved me. That you wanted a life with me.”
I stand up. “I do!”
“Which is it?” He turns and crosses his arms to glower at me. “You want a life with me to get out of putting up with whatever your mom has in mind for you? Or you want to marry me out of love?”
I blink quickly, put on the spot. “I love you, Owen.” I say the words confidently but deep down, I can’t ignore the sensation that I’m not being entirely honest.
He notices. I stalled too long to reply because he snarls and turns back to his bag. “You don’t. She’s right. She’s right about this. You only wanted the convenience of marrying me just so you could be married and get your trust fund. It wasn’t about love. It’s about money and getting what you want.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. Don’t lie to me. I know how eager you are to open up a dress shop. And you’d only be able to start that with a lot more money than what I’ve earned yet.”
I reach for him as he zips the bag. “Owen. Stop. You can’t believe her over me.”
“Don’t tell me what to believe. It’s shocking how easily it all makes sense. You only want to use me as an excuse to escape being forced with someone your mother approves of. Someone wealthy and influential. Someone she approves of. Not just a guy working in finance with no impressive family name.”
He wrenches out of my grasp, picking up his bag, and heading toward the door.
“You’re just as stuck up as she is, only concerned about your life and what you want to do. And that’s nothing but work on dresses and make a name for yourself in design.”
