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“You haven’t touched your steak. It’s a fifty-dollar filet and exquisite, you know. Taste it, go ahead. Taste it.”
I shake my head. Matthew ordered for both of us and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t like steak very much, and I especially hate when it’s rare. “I’m not—I’m not really hungry.”
“Oh, please, go on, taste it anyway.” He reaches out like he’s going to cut a piece with his own utensils.
I smack them away with my fork.
“No, thank you.” I sit up straight and meet his gaze. “I’d rather not.”
He looks surprised. I can’t really blame him. The Kat he met the first time around would’ve let him feed her like a little baby and even smiled and thanked him for it even if she was gagging the whole time. The old Kat would’ve let him walk all over her.
I’m not that girl anymore. I won’t eat things I don’t like, smile at jokes I hate, pretend like I’m nice and docile and adorable like a good rich girl’s supposed to be. I am what I am and I’m exhausted pretending to be anything else.
“Right, okay, you must be in a mood tonight,” he says and clears his throat. “But all right, no big deal. Did I tell you about the time my brothers and I went fishing from Douglas Reed’s boat? You’lllovethis story. Doug got so drunk…”
I space out and drink my wine and stare off across the club.
It’s a beautiful night and a lovely space. Rich couples eat together in quiet. Powerful men gather at tables, drink incredibly expensive whiskey, discuss the future of the world, and here I am miserably prodding at a hunk of meat and wishing the green beans weren’t so drenched in butter and hoping that Matthew drops dead of a sudden heart attack before I have to go through with marrying him.
He doesn’t deserve that.
Matthew’s not amazing, but he’s also not actively terrible. Yes, he’s pushy about meat, but he’s kind in other ways. He listens when I talk. He laughs at my jokes—sometimes. He smiles and is polite and he even tries to hold my hand during the car ride between my house and here.
It’s actually kind of sweet, except his palm is sweaty and he smells like old cologne.
“Matthew?” I say suddenly, cutting him off as he starts his epic conclusion. It involves beer and a school of flying fish and a lot of strange male nudity.
“Uh,” he says. “Sorry, did you miss something? I can go back—”
“Why are we doing this?”
He blinks at me and clears his throat. “I thought you were hungry. I know the story’s a little silly, but—”
“No, I mean this.” I gesture at the ring on my finger. “Why are you willing to marry me? You barely even know me.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “If you really want to know, my parents are pressuring me into it. You seem nice enough, Katherine, and if Ihaveto get married—well, it might as well be to someone my parents accept.”
“I’m doing it for the same reason,” I say softly and lean back in my seat. “Isn’t that kind of sad?”
“I don’t know. Lots of people get married for that reason. We might grow fond of each other.”
“Don’t you want more than fondness from your wife? Don’t you want—” I gesture in the air. “Explosions? Fireworks?”
He tilts his head. “I’ve never felt that before.”
“I have.”
“With Ford Arc?” His eyebrows are raised up high.
I consider lying to him. I think about telling him no, I never felt that, it was all fake with Ford, that man was a huge mistake—but I’m sick of being anything other than what I am.
“Yes, with Ford, for a little while, and I want that again.”
“Why not be with him then?” Matthew tilts his head. “I mean it. I’m really not angry or upset or jealous. I’m genuinely curious. Why are you here tonight, Katherine? Why are you doing all this?”
I want to give him a straight answer, but I can’t.
It was for my mother. It was for me. I wanted to fit in to the family and make Grandfather happy. I wanted to make sure he’d take care of my mom no matter what.
