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Normally, I thrive on logistics. Planning a trip. Booking a flight is a rush. But this feels frantic. Important. All because of that auction and my decree that she should wear the green dress I made for her.
Which she doesn’t know. Would she like that? Or think I’m a total creep?
Who knows? All I know is I have to get there. I need to see her in that gorgeous emerald silk. I need to win that auction, and then?—
I’ll figure that out once I arrive. One step at a time.
Auntie Margaret: all taken care of. See you tomorrow.
A sigh of relief gusts from my lips, and I turn my focus back to the airlines. Looks like there’s one more ticket on an airline I’ve never heard of. It leaves in—I glance at the clock in the corner of the screen—five hours. I book the ticket and slam the laptop closed, then slide it into my bag.
I finish packing, blood thumping heavily through my veins. Is this the best decision I’ve ever made, or will it all be a mistake? And how the heck would I know?
I guess it all depends on Katherine.
A buzz of excitement chases away the nervousness. Running my hands through my hair, I glance around to see what I’m missing. I wish I had time to get a haircut; it’s too long. But it looks like I’ll barely make it to the event on time, so there’s no chance for a trip to the barber. Not that Katherine cares when my hair gets like this.
She’ll just ruffle her fingers through it and tease me before saying that she actually likes it carefree and golden from too many hours in the sun.
I drop my luggage at the base of the stairs and move through the tight space, tidying as I go. That’s when I spy the box of cereal I bought for her. She’s an addict, and I send her selections from around the world whenever I find something she hasn’t tried before. I’m pretty sure this one’s chocolate-flavored. I add it to my bag because if everything goes to hell, at least the treat will make her smile.
I lay down for a quick nap, but sleep is fitful. I toss and turn, punch my pillow, turn and toss like waves in a hurricane. Finally deciding it’s pointless and that I’m way too amped, I get ready and grab my stuff.
Duffle in hand, garment bag tucked over my arm, I take one last look around the dark interior. Everything will be fine for—how long? A few days? A week?
When was the last time I watered the succulent?
“Fudgecake,” I mutter Katherine’s favorite word, breaking the early morning silence. Then I reach for the succulent, cradling the small pot in the palm of my hand, and I’m off.
3
KATHERINE
The sun is low in the sky when I drill my fist into the punching bag like it did me wrong. I’ve had a full night to stew and very little sleep.
The circles under my eyes look like I got elbowed in the face. Twice.
How did I not know about the stipulation in my grandfather’s will? How did I not realize exactly how misogynistic he was?
I mean, okay, the signs were there.
I give the black bag a quick one-two.
Of course, I ignored the red flags. Because he was family. As if that’s any excuse.
There’s really nothing to do now except come up with a plan. That money is my birthright. I’m not going to lose it just because some man says I have to be married.
My jaws grind together, and I drive my fist forward again, the hit reverberating up my arm into my shoulder.
I’ve done everything that they asked of me, from school to extracurriculars—clubs, internships, parties, charities. I’ve sacrificed friendships, sleep, food, and sanity. And for what? So my mother can tell me I’m fat, and my grandfather can dictate that I need to legally be tied to a man to handle my trust fund?
No. Way.
This latest discovery is just one more sign that I’m surrounded by crappy men and have been my whole life. Except for my brother, Ford. He’s an exception.
I mean, what are my options here? I’m not dating anybody. I’m certainly not going back to Tyler.
There are zero prospects in my life. And I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date with a guy that I actually want to be with forever.
