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“So, there’s a chance he won’t agree to it then?”
I sigh. “I mean, I guess. He didn’t really seem like the kind of guy that ever should have been married from what my parents have told me. So, I guess there’s a chance?” I’m not sure if it’s more wishful thinking than anything else, but maybe I could talk him out of it? Maybe I could appeal to him and make him see just how ridiculous my dad’s plan really is?
“When are you meant to be leaving?”
I glance across the bed at the two overflowing suitcases and boxes of personal things I can’t bear to part with. Photos of me and my parents before life went to shit. A few things Aunt Clarissa gave me before she died. Random things Bree and I have acquired on our nights out. “Today, I think. It’s not like I’ve been given all that much information other than moving to Chicago and marrying the man my entire family hates.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for long seconds and I pull the phone away from my ear to check if it’s still connected. “I’m going to miss you,” Bree whispers.
I press my eyes closed to stop the tears that are pooling from falling against my cheeks. I will not cry. I refuse to fall apart. Not when I still have a chance of getting out of this. Even if I can’t reason with my father, surely I can talk Doc out of this ridiculous plan.
“I’m going to miss you too.” I choke on the words. I’m going to miss so much about Boston, which seems ridiculous because I was so desperate to leave a couple of years ago.
Bright-eyed and freshly graduated, all I wanted to do was get the hell out of here. I wanted to put some distance between me and my family. I wanted so desperately to make my own way in the world without a protective father hanging over my shoulder.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs have my breath stuttering in my chest. I heard the front door open a while ago and muffled voices through the floors, but I was hoping I would have more time.
“I have to go,” I whisper.
“I love you, Isla. We’ll still talk every day.”
I nod but can’t force the words to leave my throat. People say that all the time. They claim they won’t lose touch when one, or both of them, move away, but we barely talk to anyone we went to high school with who moved away after graduation. It’s just the reality of growing up.
“I’ll text you later,” I whisper and hang up the phone.
I take deep, calming breaths as the footsteps draw closer and by the time they’re at the door, I have myself back under control.
I will not fall apart.
I will not be a victim of circumstance.
And I will not marry a man I don’t love.
The door swings open as my resolve hardens, and my father steps into my room. His eyes flick over the suitcases and boxeslaying around the room, but none of the sadness I would have expected appears behind his brown eyes.
He looks even more disheveled than he did a couple of hours ago when he sent me up here, but if anything, he seems even more sure of the decision he’s made about my future.
“Come downstairs.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he beats me to it. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Isla. This is our only choice, and the only way I know to keep you safe.”
“The only way you could think to ensure my safety is to make me marry a man I don’t really know? A man who tore our family apart.” I don’t bother keeping my voice down, because frankly, I don’t give a fuck what Doc thinks of me. In fact, the worse he thinks of me, the better chance I have he’ll call this whole charade off.
He sighs and moves toward the bed, making quick work of zipping both suitcases up.
“Does Mom even know about any of this?” I’m grasping at straws because I’m not even sure my mother knows I still live under the same roof she does. She has nothing to do with me and hasn’t for years. I don’t know if it was a conscious choice she made or if it was just easier for her to detach from her pain if she didn’t have a child to deal with.
“I spoke with your mother an hour ago. She agrees this is the best way forward.”
My mouth drops open. She agrees that the man who is responsible for her best friend’s death, the same death which has left her to drown her sorrows in the bottom of a bottle for years, is the best person to marry her only child?
I let out a slow breath and nod. For right now, there is no argument I can make that will get through to him. My best chance is getting through to Doc.
I shove past my father, only stopping to pick up my black handbag and throw my phone into it before storming down the stairs, making no secret of just how much I do not want to go with the visitor waiting downstairs for me.
I round the corner of the lounge room ready to begin making this guy’s life hell, only to trip over my own feet when I see him.
He is the tallest man I have ever seen, and every inch of him is muscled and inked, stands in the middle of our living room. His intense dark eyes lock with mine and his dark salt-and-pepper hair is the only sign of his age. He looks like he’s in better shape than most men my own age.
