Page 6 of Promise To Marry You
“I can’t have unreliable staff in my office, Camilla,” he’d said in that weaselly tone of his. Never mind that he’s the unreliable one, missing phone calls and meetings and misplacing budget reports on a monthly basis.
He’s made a mockery of the mayor’s office. But no one seems to care except me. And as I walked out of the office, keeping my head held high, I purposefully avoided the stares of everyone witnessing my humiliation.
They got what they wanted. I’m done. I have nothing left for me in this goddamn town except my memories, and it’s not as if those are all that wonderful.
I get in my car and drive out of town to an old forest service road. Once I’m away from prying eyes, I pull out the letter from Grandpa and unfold it again. Last night when I read it, I thought I was mistaken. There could be no way the man who raised me would try to force something like this on me. But the words haven’t changed as they stare at me from the paper, written in his sprawling handwriting.
My Dearest Camilla,
It is a cliché to start a letter this way, but I must. If you’re reading this, then I am gone. Please know that if I had my way, I would never leave you, my girl.
For all that you came into my life in a tragic way, and for all the grief I carry over the loss of your parents, I have never once regretted the years I spent raising you from a strong-willed girl into a powerfully independent woman. You make a man proud, Camilla. You make this man proud. I don’t know if I ever told you that enough in life, so I hope my words now will suffice.
I must acknowledge the great sacrifice you made in coming back to Cliveden to be with me after my stroke. You didn’t have to, but I was grateful for it. For you. I know how this town held you back, tried to force you into a box you never wanted to be in. And I’m sorry that my selfish need for your help kept you here.
In some ways, I suppose it is a blessing I am gone, so now you can go, too. You can move forward with your life in the way you desire.
And that brings me to the true reason for this letter. By now, Barkley has shown you what I have set aside. That money is there to help you live the life you deserve. Away from Cliveden. However, I am a sentimental fool. And the one thing that scares me more than anything is the idea of you being alone.
Which is why, though it will likely make you scream at me, curse at me, possibly even tear this letter into little pieces and walk away from it all, I must insist on one thing.
To access the money, you must be married.
Love is the most powerful force in the universe, Camilla. And I see how you shut yourself off from it. I see how you close your heart to anyone who would dare get close, and it scares me. Loving your grandmother, your mother, and you, has been my greatest achievement. Loving despite the risk of loss — because loss is inevitable — is the biggest act of bravery you can ever hope to achieve. And I know you are capable and worthy of it.
Let someone in, my girl. Let someone see the true beauty of who you are. I like to believe I have never led you astray, and so, for one final time, I ask you to trust me in this.
Life is only worth living if you have someone to enjoy it with. The life I wish for you is a life in which you are not alone. Where your dreams come true with someone by your side to celebrate with you. Where the pitfalls that are bound to happen, you do not face alone.
The person who will help you take down the walls around your heart is out there, and when you find them, be open to it. Then take my money, and my blessing, and create a life bigger than you ever dreamed possible.
However you react to this letter, please know it comes from a place of never-ending love. Love and a deep-rooted need to see you happy. Truly happy.
I will be watching from above, dear girl.
Forever yours,
Grandpa
“Why?” I whisper into the silence, tears threatening to fall from my eyes and onto the paper. I brush them away angrily. “Why would you ask me to do the one thing I can’t do?”
My stomach threatens to revolt, and I open my car door just in time to heave the meager contents of my breakfast up and onto the ground. I’m crying, sobbing, and retching as I try desperately to make sense of things. To figure out how the fuck I’m meant to process this.
This is more than just the heartache at Grandpa’s final words to me. This is more than the shock at realizing he knew all along how awful it was living here. This is the gut-wrenching battle between grief and anger. This is the stomach-churning truth that I am now without family and without a job. Which means that soon, I’ll be without a home. Kind of hard to pay a mortgage without a job, not that I would want to stay in Cliveden anyway.
Because there’s not a chance in hell of me accessing Grandpa’s money. Not if marriage is the only way.
Eventually, I manage to pull my shit together enough to drive home. When I get to my apartment building, I walk inside woodenly, my legs feeling as if lead weights are attached to the ankles. I push open my door and come to a stop when I see Beckett on the couch, his laptop open in front of him.
He stands as soon as the door closes behind me, turning a worried gaze my way that I can see even across the room. He pulls his glasses off, runs his hand through his hair, then puts his glasses back on.
He’s nervous. Why? What the hell does Beckett have to be nervous about? I’m the one whose world is imploding around her.
“Cam? Why are you home so early?”
I drop the box holding my stuff on the kitchen counter and sink down onto one of the tall bar stools that lines the granite countertop.
“I was fired.”
