Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“She’s a joy to be around.” We climb the stairs to the second floor, and Mildred says, “My step count is about to go through the roof.”
“You’ll get used to it after a while,” I assure her.
“It’s never been safe for me to get used to nice things,” she admits. “The past few years, since Flip moved into the apartment across the hall from me, have been the most stable of my life.”
“Because of how you grew up.” This risks digging at her wounds, but I want to understand her.
“My whole life was transient. Before I went to university, I’d never stayed anywhere for more than a handful of months at a time. And the first few years of my life weren’t good. I’m grateful that I have very few memories of the time before my parents died, because the ones I do have are…not worth remembering.” She stops outside her bedroom door and looks up, her soft, dark eyes meeting mine. “I’m a different kind of broken, Connor.”
I’m usually the one putting up walls, but tonight Mildred has beat me to it. I can’t tell if it’s a warning, her fear, or both. “What happened to you?”
The saddest smile tips the corner of her mouth. “I survived when I probably shouldn’t have.” She disappears into her room, the door closing with a quiet snick.
That’s just what I was thinking earlier. I want to follow her inside and learn more about her life. I want to hold her. To hug her. To offer to keep her safe.
But I’m a contract she’s fulfilling, not the love of her life.
I grew up in a home of affluence and excess, with a father who expected perfection and obedience and a mother who desperately wanted to fit into the role assigned to her. My sisters and I were Grace children, and our lives were not our own to live. I wanted for nothing materially, but things don’t replace love or acceptance.
But to have neither? How bad were Mildred’s first few formative years?
She’s used to struggling. To instability. To suffering. Maybe that’s why this arrangement works for her. Because she already knows what the end will look like, and it’s better than the unknown.
I slip into the bedroom reserved for me since childhood. I stayed here on occasion when my parents went away without me and my sisters. Everything is dark wood finishes, draped in dark blue velvet. I’m accustomed to the beautiful excess, but I try to see it through Mildred’s eyes.
I check my phone for the first time in hours.
Mother
I’ve arranged a venue walk-through for you and Mildred. A tux has been sent over in an appropriate color. I expect you to wear it and not embarrass me or enrage your father with another outlandish suit.
If it isn’t black, white, or beige, it’s considered outlandish. I fight the wave of guilt over what my mother must endure on my behalf. “Why can’t you just do what you’re asked for once, Connor? Why do you always have to make your father angry? Why can’t you just be good?” But it’s a choice to be the person my father pushes around, just like it’s my choice to lean into the bad reputation I’ve earned and wallow in it.
Mother
Please ensure that your fiancée is dressed appropriately as well. Your father was not happy about the photos from the engagement party. He said Mildred looked like a harlot and none of those photos were acceptable for a media release, let alone an article in The Hotelier.
Connor
I also have new messages from my sisters. I brace myself, because they’re often on the receiving end of my parents’ disdain after an event where I’ve done something to embarrass or displease them, which is always.
Isabelle
I have pictures from the engagement party, and I’ve been meaning to share them all week!
How cute are you?
An image pops up. My finger is tucked under Mildred’s chin, and her eyes are closed, while mine remain slightly open, my lips pressed gently to hers. My father is wrong about the dress. Mildred is stunning.
That one kiss has been all I can think about whenever I look at Mildred’s pretty mouth. And now I have a picture to go with the memory.
Portia
That fucking suit. Mother nearly lost her mind.
I grin at the profanity. Portia only has a potty mouth in our siblings group chat.
Connor
She’s very adamant that I wear black for the venue walk-through I’ve been informed is taking place.
Isabelle
I might need to go out of town for the weekend if you decide not to.
Portia
I’ll arrange a spa weekend. You know our brother can’t help poking the bear whenever he gets a chance.
Isabelle
If we could all be so brave.
Connor
I’ll arrange your spa weekend. Niagara on the Lake is nice this time of year.
Portia
It’s so quaint.
We message back and forth for a few more minutes, my sisters dropping in their requests for spa services while I make reservations. The weeks leading to the wedding will be a challenge for them, since they’re the ones who deal with our parents and their expectations on a daily basis. My father uses our mother as his puppet, and she dutifully plays the role.