this tradition is almost one hundred years old and that the world has moved on from passing women from their fathers to their brothers, and then off to their husbands, so they always have a man on the end of their leash, keeping them in line.”
“That is quite enough,” Rosalie said.
“We should not forget that we’re young,” I said over her. “We have so much more learning and exploring to do. So much that we still need to figure out about ourselves. Why marry that guy from the broom closet too young and end up divorced in five years, when instead you could live with and screw him for the same amount of time and decide if you really work as a couple.”
“Belle!”
That was the dame, and it was a scream by everyone’s definition.
“What if he’s crap in bed? Or clips his toenails at the dinner table?” I narrowed on Preston. “What if he’s a manipulative liar that gets off on hurting people? Do you really want to tie yourself to a guy like that for the rest of your life?”
I gave him my back. “Same thing to you dudes. College is a well-known time for sexual exploration. Do you honestly want to walk on campus tied down to someone you barely know? I can tell you from experience, it’s a real mood killer when the fiancée shows up.”
“Young lady, give me the microphone.”
It was only social propriety keeping this woman from snatching it from my hand and drop-kicking me down the stage. Though the expression on her face said I was testing that self-control.
“You see, our parents don’t want us asking these questions,” I said to Mrs. Desai’s purpling face. “They can’t have us asking why the rest of the world gets to pick their partners, and we’re trading away the few choices that belong to us alone. But deep down we all know why. Locking us down when we’re too young to know better ensures we, and their money, never stray too far.”
“Belle, get off that stage this instant.” Mom and Dad were moving fast, zipping through the tables. “Now, Belle!”
“This tradition survives because we let it. If you want to take your choices back, you have to shut this crap down and say no. As we’ve all been reminded, no one is going to wave a magic wand and do it for us.” I looked at Preston, speaking to him and him alone. “You won’t get another chance.”
“I am so sorry, Mrs. Desai.” Mom yanked the mic free. “She’s a headstrong girl. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
“Mom!”
“That is enough, Belle.” Dad hooked me around the waist, lifting me bodily off the stage.
Mom’s apologies were on a steady stream. “Belle didn’t mean a word of that. Please, don’t rescind her invitation.”
“I’ll do nothing of the kind.” Rosalie took Mother’s hands, gazing at me over her shoulder as Dad carried me away. “She’s not the first headstrong girl I’ve come across. In the end, they all accept that we know best.”
“THAT WAS THE MOST SHAMEFUL, humiliating display I’ve ever seen!”
Dad stormed through the mansion. His grip was iron around my wrist. I tripped over my heels straining to keep up with him, and fell against his back. He hauled me up and continued without a hitch in his step.
“You embarrassed us! You embarrassed the community! And you embarrassed yourself!”
“I don’t want to get married! Why won’t you listen to me?!” I yanked against his hold. “Dad, let me go!”
Mom scurried behind us. “Darling, why don’t we all calm down? We can sit and talk about—”
“The discussion is over!” Bursting into his office, Dad dropped me into an armchair and leaned over me, his red bulging eyes filling my vision. “We’ve tried, Belle. We’ve explained why it has to be this way. We’ve told you that we’re doing what’s best. Yet you refuse to see past a summer gallivanting around the world.”
“That’s not it—”
“Silence!”
I shrunk in the seat, heart galloping in my chest. Dad raised his hand and my arms flew up, shielding my face.
A soft touch brushed away the hair sticking to my damp forehead. “You’ve driven us to this, Belle. Know that we did not want to go this route, but you’ve left us no option.”
“Tobias,” Mom breathed. “It hasn’t come to that.”
“It has.” The gentle touch disappeared.
I slowly dropped my hands, taking in Dad’s grim expression and Mom’s regret. I didn’t understand these looks on their faces, but that we were out of sync was obvious.