“—Clementine’s entitled to all her inheritance after her marriage. My husband thought his kids would be smart in choosing the right partner.” Her gaze momentarily shifts to Oscar. It’s no news that my mom doesn’t approve of Kristy. “This one didn’t listen to me. Both times. And I’ve no hope of Clementine listening to me. She has never done so before.”
She pulls a business card out of her small velvet purse and slides it forward in our direction on the coffee table.
“So, when you guys get married, which I assume will be the next step—why else would you be sitting in our living room, it’s not like you need my permission to date Clementine—please send a copy of your marriage certificate to our lawyer.”
I attempt to interrupt, asking her to collar her bullshit but she continues to talk right over me.
“You’ll be the half owner of Clementine’s entitlements. You are free to redistribute the wealth among kids you have with Clementine or even your daughter, who has no ties with the Hawthorne name.”
Tears roll down my cheeks, watching my mom bring Keith’s dignity to shreds. My hands clutch the chair’s armrest, wood biting into my skin. I’m sure Keith never imagined in his wildest dreams, his meeting with my family would turn out this way.
My mother leaves, her heels clicking on the white marble floor. No one says a word for several minutes.
Oscar releases a heavy breath and I pray so hard that he doesn’t take Mom’s side.
“We don’t think like Mom, Keith.”
His voice’s not as loud as before and I squeeze my eyes in gratefulness.
“But I still can’t overlook the fact that Clementine is fifteen fucking years younger than you, man. Imagine if she were Merida. What would you do to the guy?”
“I’d grab his throat and probably beat him bloody,” Keith mutters, his fists still clenched. “I’m not blind, Oscar. I know your sister is getting the sucky end of the deal. But I gave her time to think, and when she said yes, I believed in her decision. I trust her to know what she wants.”
“I’m not getting anything sucky.” My voice is thick with emotion. “Don’t you say that.” I grab Keith’s arm and force him to look my way. He smiles, regardless of all the humiliation.
We soon leave the Hawthorne Estate with a bag of cheesecake and lots on our minds. I’m filled with dread that my mother’s vindictive words or Oscar’s concern for our age difference will make Keith backpedal.
“Do you know a place we can eat in quiet?” he asks from the driver seat. “This is your town after all. Don’t you want to show me around?”
I press my palms discreetly over my eyes, as a wave of relief hits me. The lightness in his voice makes me believe that the damage done by Irene Hawthorne is not beyond repair.
I clear my throat and open my phone to order a pizza at Giovanni’s. “What do you think about picking up a pizza?”
“Sounds good.”
We settle at my most favorite place in Cherrywood, the bench near the lake, with a pizza box, garlic bread, and soda.
“How do you feel?” I ask. Keith hasn’t said a word about what happened at the mansion.
“I feel good. I get why you hang out at this place. It’s nice,” he replies, taking a bite of the cheesy bread.
I place my soda can on the bench between us. “I’m asking about what happened with my family. What do you think about that?”
He takes a long swig of his soda and turns to face me. “It was nothing unexpected, Clem. I’d be surprised if your family didn’t doubt my intentions.”
“Really?” I try to gauge more of his reaction. Is he just saying that, or did my mom’s bullshit really not make him change his mind about us?
Keith nods. “Oscar has every right to be pissed at me. He settled you in my home, expecting it to be a three-month vacation before you returned. But you not only got kidnapped but found a man much older than his liking. I’m pleased he’s not running behind me with a stick.”
I snicker at the image he portrays. “Maybe because my brother knows he doesn’t stand a chance against you.”
A faint smile touches Keith’s lips before his face turns serious again. “Did you know about your father’s will?”
I nod and whisper, looking at him under my lashes, “Before I left Cherrywood, our lawyer read it to me.”
Keith grabs my hands, holding them in between his. “I don’t want any of it, Clem. You can choose to keep it or give it away. But for you, our kids, I’m the person who provides.”
My breath hitches imagining our family. Merida with a younger brother or sister. “I want that too.”