The Broody Brit for Christmas (Holiday Springs #1) - M.J. Fields Page 0,1
fiancé that has me seeing red—years of taking her abuse bubbles up my throat. The sweet girl I’ve always been to her suddenly has had enough, actually, I’m infuriated. Clearly, my kindness isn’t working. If anything, Tinsley feeds off it, and it only makes her resolve stronger. I graduated top of my class from Cornell University for the love of God. An Ivy. I am not a ‘nothing.'
“Go?” My voice is loud. Too loud, but I can’t help it. “Don’t you speak to me that way! I am about to become his wife, and you should show some respect! Otherwise, I may not take so kindly to your visits. Once we are married, you won’t be able to behave this way toward me. Not if you want to keep Townes in your life. I may be penniless now, but soon, I’ll be a princess.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize they were the wrong ones.
She raises one eyebrow, her gaze moving to the doorway. For the first time since I’ve known her, a bright and honest smile fills her face. She’s happy. Oh, shit. I follow her eyes to see Townes, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his broad, chiseled bare chest. He’s mad. Really mad. Finally crossing the room, he stands beside his mother. I always thought he took her side during arguments, but he denied it. It seems that finally, he’s admitting the truth—she will always come before me.
“Townes,” I practically beg, my heart crumbling on the floor. “Y-you don’t get it. You must not have heard the whole conversation. I just meant—”
“No, Nikki. You’re the one who doesn’t get it. I never listened to them when they called you a gold digger, but it seems that is exactly what you are.”
“Gold digger? Townes, no.” I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. “You know me. The real me. I didn’t mean to say that. She just doesn’t stop goading me. Telling me I’m less than. For years I was always kind, but it only made it easier for her to kick me. And you know that I’m not used to this type of life. How long do you expect me to let her talk down to me? Your future wife and one day, I’ll be the mother of your—”
“How can we get married if you can’t be decent to my mother and my family? I’ve been pinging between you and them for years. I just,” he exhales, putting his hands behind his head and pressing his lips together in that way he always does when thinking something bad, “I just can’t handle this anymore.”
“Are you joking?” My voice trembles. I want to step closer to him, touch him, remind him that I’m me—just Nikki. But my legs feel so heavy, they are almost paralyzed. It’s like my body knows what’s coming, even though my heart is in denial. “You know that I have tried every single thing in the book. I have literally done anything I could to try to make them like me. I’ve cooked countless Sunday meals. Gone on all the trips. Wore all the clothes. I stopped seeing my own family on Christmas because you insisted on the Swiss Alps. And I did it all because I love you. But it’s no use! And did you hear what she—”
“I heard enough.” He shakes his head again and his lips turned downward. “Look, this isn’t going to work. You did your best, but clearly, the drama runs too deep with you.”
Silence ensues. I think I am literally struck dumb.
“She can stay in one of our apartments on Bleecker Street until she saves up enough to leave the city. You can help her get a job in Jersey, maybe. Anyhow, there is a vacant studio on the fifth-floor . It’s a walk-up.” She rubs Townes’ arm, holding back a smile. The white pearls around her neck gleam as she looks up at her son. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, darling.”
Rule Number One
Don’t date a rich prick
Nikki
Four months later...
After shutting down the cash register and turning off the lights, I pull on my camel-colored coat and wrap my pink cashmere scarf around my neck. The day was pleasant and calm, except for the regular post-elementary school rush. I’ve avoided it since returning to work here, but Nellie asked me to cover. I bet she won’t do that again until the holiday rush begins. I laugh to myself, or