Page 83 of Fake It Till You Make It

“Fine, but I drove the freakin’ green mile to the swamps of Florida. And then around the world in eighty days to get to this hillbilly cesspool. I’m not leaving empty-handed. Amarie, here.” He retrieved a small red velvet box from his front pocket and thrust it at her.

At seeing it, Amarie recoiled. “What is that?”

“It’s what you wanted from the day we met. A real diamond ring. A wedding. Stop baulking. Take the stupid thing.”

Oh no he didn’t. Did he think he could demand her commitment? Real love shouldn’t be transactional. And she valued herself above the Mrs. Russell Feldman title.

Amarie crossed her arms over her chest, defiant. “No, thank you.”

“No,” Russell yelled, his face flaming a horrid shade of bruised red. “You force me to come after you. To spend two grand on a new ring. All to refuse my proposal?”

“Ah, Russell,” she mused, “I didn’t hear a proposal.” Looking at the other women in the room. “Did either of you hear in a man standing in this very room ask me, Amarie Walker, to marry him?”

“No” came the tandem reply.

“See.” Amarie frowned, having fun at Russell’s expense. “We didn’t hear anything close to a declaration of love and commitment.”

“Okay. Okay. Fine. Amarie,” he huffed, “will you be my wife?” He looked downright ill, red giving way to ashen gray.

“Absolutely—”

Russel interrupted before she could finish. “Good.” He re-pocketed the ring. “You and your mother pack your things. I’m leaving in ten minutes.”

“My answer is absolutelynot. And why wait?” Amarie laughed.

Bethany stood. “Why indeed.”

“Oh, oh, you think you have the upper hand. I saw his ex-wife in that key fob–sized clinic, Amarie. She’s beautiful, delicate, feminine. You don’t stand a chance.”

“And neither do you, Russell. The door is that way.” She pointed.

“If I walk out that door, you’re both stranded. You think your father will come to your rescue. He won’t. He practically begged me to take you both off his hands.”

“Russell, I’m not counting on you or my father. I got this. Bye-bye now.” Amarie looked at her mother, who had tears in her eyes.

“Come here, baby girl.” She hugged Amarie so tight it hurt, and it felt absolutely sublime. “I’m so proud of you. You could’ve been angry at the world—at me, but you, my beautiful sunshine,” Bethany’s voice trembled, “you saved yourself. You saved me.”

Amarie raised her brow, having never heard these words from her mother. “You sure it’s me you’re talking about? The six-year champion. Your late bloomer.”

“Don’t sound surprised. When have you ever quit?”

“Well…”

“See.” Her mother smiled. “You can’t think of a time where a hard knock meant a hard stop. You’re relentless. Something you didn’t inherit from me.”

“Mom,” she said, thinking about Ruth and little Phoebe. “I owe you an apology—”

“Shh, baby. I had my own lessons to learn. When you’re young, you’re discovering who you are. But as you age you learn who you aren’t. The fantasy of storybook marriages, perfect kids—heck, fairy-tale love falls away. I let your father tell me my value for years. But I never stopped to question his. He’s not the man who deserves the woman I am. I know that now.”

“I have a new appreciation for how brave you were to have left Dad back then. He gave Princess away to hurt you, didn’t he?”

Amarie watched as her words hit their mark. Tears gathered in Bethany’s eyes, but the lines bracketing her eyes and mouth seemed to recede like the ebb tide. “H-he threatened to take her to the shelter if we didn’t return home at once. I knew how much you loved her, but I couldn’t bear to turn around, drive us back to that beautiful prison of stucco and iron. So,” Bethany stiffened her spine, “I kept going.”

“Then I got sick,” Amarie whispered, knowing her weakness was the reason her mother had chosen to return to a long-dead marriage.

“No. No.” Bethany shook her head, adamant in her denial. “You were always resilient, strong. I knew you would heal, Amarie. But sleeping in our chariot had reached its end. And your father promised to pay for your college education if I returned and didn’t leave again.”

“So, you went back?”