The Contract (17 page)

“You barely touched anything at the party, Richard. Let me make you a bite to eat.”

“No, I’m fine. I ate a couple of your cookies.”

“That’s not a meal—or even a snack. I’ll make you a sandwich and some coffee. You’ll feel better.”

I waved my hand. “Stop acting as though you care how I feel, or what I need.” I walked over to the bar and grabbed the scotch. “I said I’m fine. I’ll have another drink.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve had enough. You need to eat something.” She took the bottle from my hand and started to walk toward the kitchen.

Without thinking, I grabbed her arm, spinning her around. “You don’t make decisions for me. If I want to drink, I’ll drink.”

She gasped and released the bottle I was reaching for, shaking her head. “Why are you drinking this much, Richard? You should be pleased! You fooled the Gavins, you got the job, and you screwed over David! Why are you acting like someone pissed on your cornflakes?”

It exploded. Everything I’d been feeling all evening. The annoyance at how easily they accepted her into their
family
. The frustration that I was the one on the outside. The strange way I reacted when she was close—as if I almost liked it.

I shouldn’t like it. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like her.

“Tell me, Katharine, what do you get out of this? Do you have some twisted sense of martyrdom?”

She stared at me, her eyes wide, the blue orbs glistening in the dim light.

“Do you have some sick sense of thinking you’re better than me? You put up with my shit for a year, and without barely blinking, you agreed to this masquerade.” I stepped closer, my rage boiling to the surface. “You think your sacrifice is going to make me a better man or some sort of shit?” I spat. “You think I’m somehow going to magically fall in love with you and life will be a bed of
fucking
roses?” I grabbed her arm, shaking her with more force than I knew I should. “Is that what you think?”

Her head shook furiously.

“Then, why did you agree? Why are you doing this for me?”

She remained silent, her teeth chewing away at her cheek so hard I thought she’d draw blood. With a curse, I pushed her away. “Get out of my goddamn sight.”

I blindly grabbed the bottle of scotch, pouring a generous shot into my glass. I threw back the liquor, the burn of it warming my throat and chest. I refilled it and stepped toward the window, gazing out into the dark of Victoria, the lights of the city shining bright in the inky blackness.

Behind me, Katharine hadn’t moved. I was about to tell her to leave again, when she spoke.

“Penny Johnson isn’t my real aunt. I simply call her that so I don’t have to explain our relationship all the time. When I was twelve, my parents were killed in a car crash. I had no other family, so I ended up in the foster system.”

That news surprised me, although I remained quiet. I knew her parents had died, but she had never mentioned foster care.

“Twelve-year-old girls aren’t exactly on the most desired list to be adopted or even fostered, and I went through a few places. The last one wasn’t, ah, very nice.”

Something in her voice made me turn around. She was standing where I left her, her head down, hair covering her face so I couldn’t see anything.

“I ran away. I was on the streets for a while and one day I met Penny Johnson. She was an older woman, very kind, and she took me home, cleaned me up, and for some reason, decided I was going to stay with her. She petitioned the province to become my foster parent. She was everything to me—mother, father, friend, teacher. She didn’t have much, but what she had, we made the best of it. I got a paper route, we’d collect bottles and cans—things to help make money stretch a little more. She had a way of making every job we did like a game, so it didn’t seem as hard. She loved to paint and we’d spend hours in the little room she had set up—she’d paint and I’d read. It was a peaceful life, and for the first time since my parents died, I felt safe—and loved.”

Her fingers ran over the back of the sofa in front of her. Up and down in a restless motion, finally stilling. “I even got to go to university. I had almost perfect grades in high school, and I got a scholarship.”

“You never finished.” I remembered that fact from her pages of notes.

Her voice was quiet and sad when she spoke. “Penny became ill. I lived with her while I went to school and she began acting odd. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Then she fell and broke her hip, and went downhill quickly. She needed constant care. The home where she was placed was awful—she was neglected and unhappy. I fought to have her moved and the next place was just as bad.”

“None of this explains anything.”

She looked up, her eyes narrowing at me. “Stop being so impatient, Richard. I
am
trying to explain it to you.”

I held up my hands. “Sorry, just want to make sure there was a point here.”

“The point is, I realized she needed more care. A decent place. I knew I had to leave school, get a job, and provide that for her. A friend of mine told me about a temporary position with Anderson as a PA—the money was good, and if I was careful and found another job right away, I could move Penny into a nicer place. So, I took the job, and it became permanent. One day, Mr. Anderson called me in and offered me the job as your PA—with a pay increase, since you were notoriously hard to work for—being ‘The Dick’ and all.”

“Money talks.”

She shook her head. “Not usually for me. Except the pay increase meant I could move Penny into a private room. The money meant when I went to see her, she was surrounded by her canvases and pictures that were somehow still familiar to her. She was well cared-for and safe. I gave her the same gift she gave to me all those years ago. It didn’t matter how shit my day was—often because of you—since at the end, I got to see the woman who took such good care of me, get the same in return.”

I blinked at her, stunned.

“I didn’t spend money on clothes or fancy shoes because I didn’t have it. As good as it was, all my salary went to pay for Penny’s room. I lived in a tiny, awful place because it’s what I could afford. I shopped at discount stores and second-hand places because that was what I had to do. I made sure I was neat and presentable every day for you. I took all the horrid things you said and did, and ignored them, so I could keep my job, because by doing so, I made sure Penny was safe.

“I agreed to be your fiancée because the money you’re paying me
guarantees,
until she dies, she will
never
be afraid or cold or not properly cared-for. I don’t care what you say or do, because your opinion means
nothing.
This is simply a job to me. As much as I hate it, I have to let you be the ass you are, because sadly, I need you as much as you need me right now.”

She turned to leave but stopped. “Do I hope I can make you a better man and somehow fantasize you’ll fall in love with me? Not once has the thought even crossed my mind, Richard. You need a soul to love—and even an ‘emaciated scarecrow’ such as myself can see you don’t have one.” She drew in a deep breath. “And when this farce is over, I’ll walk away and start again somewhere else. When I no longer have to be subjected to your cruel jibes and uncaring ways, my life will be a much better place.”

With that, she hurried up the stairs, and I was left at a loss for words.

RICHARD

I WOKE UP, CONFUSED. AFTER
a moment, I realized I was on the sofa. I sat up, grimacing, holding my aching head. I deserved it, but it still sucked. Cautiously, I raised my eyes, surprised to see a bottle of water and Tylenol on the table in front of me. Reaching for it, I swallowed two pills and drained the bottle. As I stood up, the blanket draped across my torso fell to the floor. I bent to pick it up, when realization dawned in my sluggish brain.

After Katharine had stormed away, I had tossed back more scotch, her words on a constant loop in my head. At some point, I must have passed out, and she had obviously come and covered me up, leaving the drugs and water, knowing I’d be suffering when I awoke.

Despite being even a bigger prick to her than usual, she still looked after me. My legs were shaking as I sat down, recalling the words she had flung at me last night—why she had agreed to help me. Why she scrimped and saved—to look after a woman who took her in and gave her a safe place and a home. I had looked down my nose and belittled her for it, never bothering to ask her for the details. Never really seeing her for the good person she was inside.

A wave of nausea hit me, and I tore upstairs, emptying my stomach of the copious amounts of scotch still lingering. After, I had a shower, and more Tylenol. I kept hearing her words, and the pain behind them. My behavior of the past year played on repeat in my head. My cruel jibes, my harsh words, and my ignorant manner. Despite how I treated her, she had put the needs of someone else first and kept her head up. She did her job, and I had to admit she did it well, with pride, and zero positive input from me.

I studied my face in the mirror, my hand too shaky to lift a razor to the scruff on my chin. For the first time in my life, I felt the heat of shame burn through me, and I dropped my gaze.

I had two choices.

Ignore what happened last night and hope Katharine would continue with our arrangement. I knew if I didn’t bring it up, she wouldn’t either. She would assume I didn’t remember what had occurred.

Or, act like a mature adult and find her, apologize, and try to move forward. In order to do that, I needed to make a concerted effort, and at the very least, understand her. I had no doubt, the wedding was now off the table, but we could still continue as an engaged couple.

I pushed off the counter, ignoring the thumping of my head.

It was time to find out more about my fiancée.

“Richard, I didn’t expect to see you today. Or at least not this early.”

I looked up from my computer screen. “Oh, Graham.” I tugged on my cowlick and ran my hand over my neck nervously. “I had a few things I wanted to get, and, ah, pick up my car.”

He came into my office, sitting down in front of my desk. I folded my hands on the dark wood, trying to stop my fingers from twitching.

“I need to apologize for last night. I drank too much. Trust me, that wasn’t normal behavior for me.”

He laughed, waving his hand. “We’ve all been there, Richard. After everything you’ve gone through and starting with us, then of course, your big day today, I think you deserved to cut loose.”

“I hope I didn’t do anything inappropriate.”

He shook his head. “No, you were fine. I think you drove poor Katy around the bend a little. It was amusing to watch.”

I thought of my conversation with her and grimaced. “She wasn’t happy with me.” Then I frowned as his words sank in. “I’m sorry, Graham, what did you mean by ‘my big day’ when you said that?”

He smirked. “You rather let it out of the bag you were getting married this afternoon, Richard.”

“I–I said that?”

“You did. Katy kept trying to shush you, but you seemed determined to let out the secret.”

“No wonder she was ready to kill me. I don’t even remember.”

“I think she’ll forgive you.” He winked. “I’m not certain my wife and Jenna will, however. They wanted to help Katy with the wedding.”

“I’m sorry?” I offered.

“It’s fine. They’re happy with the dinner you agreed to afterward.”

I swallowed.
Holy shit
. How could I remember the entire conversation with Katharine and not recall a single word of this verbal diarrhea I had with the Gavins?
What the hell else had I said?

“Dinner?”

“Katy explained how private you both wanted your actual ceremony. You were so eloquent when you added your thoughts on why you wanted it to be the two of you, it made Laura tear up.”

I blinked at him.
I did that?

“After they agreed not to crash your day, you agreed to allow us to host a dinner for you tonight.” He ran his hands over his thighs. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the next week off for a honeymoon?”

“Ah, no. We have other plans. Katharine wants to get to work on making my place, ah, our place, a little homier. I’ll take her away once we’re more settled.”