Page 56 of Forked (Frenched 2)
“Because I knew how much you worked and struggled! I knew you had loans to pay off. And I was the one who wanted to go to the nice places, so I felt guilty when you’d try to pay.”
“I’m not saying you made me feel bad on purpose. And looking back, I can see that it was probably in my head. But I never felt like I fit in with what your family wanted for you. I had nothing to offer you—until then. When I heard you were accepted, then there was something I could do for you in their eyes. Let you go.”
In their eyes? Suspicion snaked up my spine. “Did my parents contact you or something?”
He looked away.
“Did they?” I yelled, my nostrils flaring.
He didn’t answer for a full ten seconds, during which I clutched at the hem of my tank instead of throttling him. He was the one who wanted to talk, so he’d better fucking come clean about everything! “Your mom wrote me a letter on behalf of both of them. She was perfectly nice, so you don’t have to get incensed about it. She just wanted me to know what a wonderful opportunity this was for you, and how all the women in her family had done it for three generations, and how she hoped I would do everything I could to encourage you to go. She said she could see we cared very much for each other but we were very young. She didn’t want you to throw it away for me, although she never said that outright.”
“Goddamn it,” I said softly, putting the heels of my hands to my eyes. “Why did she have to do that?”
Nick took me by the shoulders. “Because she loves you. And she was right. It was a wonderful opportunity and part of your history and your legacy…she was right, Coco. You had to go, I could see that.”
“But it wasn’t their decision to make,” I went on angrily, pushing his hands off me. “And it wasn’t yours, either. It was mine, and you all took it away from me.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. So many things could have gone differently if I’d just been honest from the start. I hated myself that night I lied to you.”
We looked at each other a moment, each of us remembering what came next. “You came back the next night. Why didn’t you tell me the truth then?”
“I was going to, I swear to God, because I couldn’t let you go to Paris thinking that I’d betrayed you that way. Not when I’d worked so hard to earn your trust after those other times. All I’d planned to do was tell you the truth and say I was glad you were going.”
I sniffed. “You didn’t stick to that plan too long.”
He shook his head. “One look at you and I fell apart. Begged you to take me back.”
That detail brought a mite of satisfaction. “You did beg, didn’t you?”
“On my knees.”
I sighed, closing my eyes. “We drank a lot of whiskey that night.”
“Still, I meant every word I said.”
My eyelids opened a sliver. “You proposed that night.”
“Guess I liked being on my knees.”
I splashed water at him. “Don’t joke. This is serious.”
He swiped at his eyes. “Sorry. Yes, I proposed. It was spur-of-the-moment, but I meant it—I wanted to marry you. I wanted forever with you. In my mind, this was the perfect solution. I’d marry you, you could go to France but you’d go as my wife, even if no one knew it, and we’d stay together. We’d have this amazing secret. I’d know you would come back to me and not run off with some jackass with a title and a trust fund.”
“I wouldn’t have done that,” I said sullenly. “I never wanted anyone else.”
“Maybe, but I was young and stupid and scared and crazy about you. So I proposed.”
“Oh God,” I said, touching my fingertips to my forehead. “What a fucking mess…we flew to Vegas, got married, and then of course I refused to go. Because I was your wife.”
Nick nodded slowly. “We fought so hard about it that night. Remember?”
I looked at him helplessly. “How could I forget my wedding night?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “You deserved a better wedding night.”
I turned away from him, chilled to the bone now, but not ready to end the conversation. “Parts of it were good.” Closing my eyes, I saw him above me in the darkened hotel room, his body centered between my thighs, his skin warm and soft, just like his voice. My wife, he’d said, burying himself deep inside me. My wife.
He cleared his throat. “Yes. Parts of it were amazing. You fell asleep first, you know. And I watched you sleeping. You were so beautiful.”
