Trillion - Winter Renshaw Page 0,42
… we ran into each other in the hallway at work one day.” I don’t tell her it was just the other week. “Next thing I know, we’re spending time together outside the office. It all took off from there.”
“And now you’re getting married?” Her expression twists in disbelief. “Don’t you think you’re moving a little fast? We haven’t even met him.”
“You will,” I say. “Soon. I’m actually moving in with him.”
“This is so exciting,” Emmeline claps. “I can’t wait to go wedding dress shopping!”
Mom shoots her a look before turning back to me. “Have you set a date yet?”
I shake my head. “We’re still working out the details.”
“Where’s your ring?” Her attention descends to my hands, which are still hidden beneath my thighs.
“I don’t have one yet. Everything happened this morning …”
Mom rests her elbows on the table, staring out the tiny window beyond our kitchen table. She doesn’t congratulate me, doesn’t manufacture an ounce of feigned joy. Not that I expected her to. I know where she stands on things like marriage and men. They’re nothing but dirty words in her vocabulary.
“You’ll love him,” I tell her, placing my hand on hers. I need to sell this.
She won’t look at me. “I’m sure you think that or you wouldn’t be marrying him.”
“He’s excited to meet you. I’ve told him so much about you both,” I say. Silence rests between us. “It would mean the world to me if you’d give him a chance.”
“Would you change your mind if I didn’t?” she asks.
Emmeline’s watchful stare passes from Mom to me and back.
“No,” I say. I already signed the contract, though I don’t dare mention it to her. If Trey and I divorce in a couple of years, I can chalk up the millions in my bank account to a prenuptial agreement. She won’t think twice given the infinite wealth that accompanies his name.
I lace my words with a hint of enthusiasm, ignoring the tension in my shoulders and the swirl of nausea in my center.
I remind myself of his words to reaffirm my decision. And even if I changed my mind, it’d be a breach of contract, and to be honest I didn’t read the fine print. I have no idea what kind of repercussions I’d face if I backed out. A part of me didn’t want to know.
Life is fucking short.
The number of good, humanitarian things I could do with those millions is endless. Charity work. Donating to Third World countries. Orphanages. Animal shelters. Unable to sleep last night, I sprang up and made a list of everything I could do with that money.
Personal happiness aside, I could spend the rest of my life making the world a better place.
I wouldn’t be able to do that if I dedicated those years to a corporation.
Not to mention, I’d be able to ensure Emmeline would always be cared for should Mom get sick again.
“You really want this?” Mom asks. Her tea has cooled, untouched, though her hands wrap the powder blue mug tightly. Her body language holds words she won’t dare say. I’m almost certain she’s thinking about Nolan and the aftershocks of my time with him.
At least Westcott is upfront about what he wants.
He’s not pretending like most men do.
He’s stated exactly what he expects from this arrangement, even going so far as to put it in writing—unlike Nolan.
Nolan lied.
Nolan manipulated.
Nolan obliterated my heart and changed me forever.
This arrangement isn’t forever—it’s two years with a side of co-parenting.
I could do a hell of a lot worse than Westcott.
Lord knows I once gave my heart to the devil himself.
Twenty-Seven
Trey
Present
She’s in silk pajamas, hair back, face free of makeup. Still the fascinating beauty who first intrigued me, but there’s a vulnerable quality to her now. As if she’s removed a mask and stripped down to a more natural state.
She climbs into bed beside me, tense as she get situated. And she fusses with the covers, getting them just so.
It’s awkward, sure. But we’re separated by a continent-sized space. She’ll survive.
I get the lamp. The room succumbs to darkness.
“Relax, Sophie,” I say, exhaling.
“I am relaxed.”
“You really need to practice this lying thing. You’re terrible at it.”
She rolls to her side. I can almost see her smiling in the dark. “All right. Fine. This is weird for me.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“This isn’t weird for you?” she asks.
“Of course it is. Think of it as a sleepover with your best friend.”
“Best friend?” She laughs. “We’re moving at breakneck speed, but I don’t think