Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
The alpha male nods, his expression serious.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he acknowledges. “My family isn’t as special as it sounds. I think I mentioned that we’re not even descended from Meriwether Lewis himself because he has no direct descendants. We’re descended from his sister, Jane.”
“Yes, you said,” I say. “But you’ve always known that. So what changed your mind?”
Jordan is silent for another moment but then he takes my small hand in his big one, and looks me in the eye.
“There are things about Meriwether Lewis that the general public isn’t aware of, and which aren’t exactly fit for a Disney movie. One of those is that he committed suicide. He was a depressive, with a drinking problem, and a ton of debts after his voyage. So he wasn’t an All-American hero whom we should put on a pedestal and worship. He was a complicated man with mental issues, and there’s no reason to exonerate his life as if he were perfect. He’s not perfect, and that’s why we don’t have to have a baby. It’s fine.”
I squint at Jordan.
“But this isn’t new news to you. Was there something else too?”
Jordan shakes his head.
“I guess it’s just that times have been changing, and these days, I’m more aware of things that I didn’t give much weight to before. Again, mental illness is a big thing in society today, and I think it’s beneficial to highlight Meriwether’s issues. It’s not fair, nor right, to sweep them under the rug, and I’d rather be open and honest. Hell, we probably shouldn’t have a baby seeing that mental illness can be inherited,” Jordan says in a rueful tone. “I’ve been going about this all wrong.”
I blink, completely taken aback by this turn of events.
“Okay, so it’s your forebear’s mental illness that’s driven you to change your mind.”
Jordan thinks for a moment, those bronze features pensive.
“Yes, but there’s more too. Again, the world is different these days. It’s a terrible story, but I want to acknowledge that Meriwether hired a free African-American man as his valet during the journey. After Meriwether died, John Pernia’s wages were in arrears because my forefather was in so much fucking debt. Pernia continued on to Monticello to ask Thomas Jefferson to pay them, but was refused, and the man later committed suicide.”
I pause.
“Holy cow,” I say, stunned. “That’s a lot.”
Jordan looks tormented again.
“Exactly,” he says in a low tone. “There’s a dark side to all this shit, and no one really focuses on it. Why would we? They’re national heroes. But all of them, from Jefferson to Washington to Lewis, were also products of their times, which meant they were enslavers, misogynists, and brutal and violent in some cases too. There’s no reason for me to act as if Meriwether Lewis’s blood is the be-all, end-all when it’s not. He was tormented, depressed, and likely an alcoholic. His line can die.”
I stare at Jordan with shock. My ears ring as my heart thumps because is this for real? Has the alpha male given up his iron grip on the past?
The gorgeous billionaire nods, suddenly reaching for my hand.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, Juliette, because I’ve fucked up. Big time. I was blinded by my determination to sire an heir, and when that heir died, I decided to breed one upon his fiancée. But now, I know I was wrong. That shit doesn’t matter. You matter, sweetheart, and what you want is relevant and of first priority. I don’t expect you to look past what I’ve done, but I hope you can forgive me at some point in the future.”
I nod, pulling my hand back.
“It’s fine, Jordan. I forgive you already,” I say in an even tone. “But I have a flight to catch, so this isn’t the time to get into details. I need to go.”
Jordan shakes his head, his expression suddenly desperate.
“Stay,” he growls, catching my hand in his big one. “Don’t leave me, Jules.”
Gently, I pull my hand from his grasp.
“I have to,” I say in a quiet tone even as my heart lurches. “My visa’s expiring in a week, and even if I started applying for a work visa with your company now, it would take a while. I’m not sure I can stay in the United States while we wait. So I have to go.”
But Jordan’s expression becomes harsh then.
“We won’t go the work visa way,” he rasps. “I’m going to get you a different kind of legal status. I’m getting you a green card via marriage.”
I stare at him, my heart thumping hard in my chest. Oh my god, is this really happening?
“What?” I whisper. “Don’t play with me, Jordan.”
The huge man shakes his head.
“No, I’m not. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.”
Then, he slithers off his chair to take one knee before me in the airport terminal. I’m nominally aware of passerby gasping and pointing, but all of my attention is focused on the huge man before me, his blue eyes burning with urgency as he takes a velvet box out of his pocket.