Suddenly, I found myself whispering quietly afterwards "I need you"
He nodded, warily. "Alright" he agreed, rubbing his neck "but I'm not sure what to promise you, Ms Emilia."
I exhaled, my mind traveling back to the nineteen year old who fell in love for the very first time. To the romance novelist who spent most of her time creating happily ever after she knows she can never have for fictional characters. To the girl who liked roses and surprises and romantic gestures…that girl wanted to ask for the moon and the stars but practical, pregnant - out - of - wedlock Emilia Vanderbilt needed to be sensible.
"Promise to never ever comment on my weight. You won't criticize my food and most importantly, you will never ever shame me for my inability to enjoy sex. And you will leave when I tell you to, Carson Gibbs. Can you promise me that?"
"Yes" He nodded. "I can make those promises to you"
And so, Carson went first in front of Rico.
1. "I'll never comment on your weight."
2. "I'll make sure you eat."
3. "I'll leave when you say."
Each vow lands like a stone in still water. No poetry. No lies. Except he completely omitted the most important one. But nevertheless, it was a fake marriage, sex wasn't really on the table, was it?
And then it was my turn. And I was blank.
"You good?" Carson murmured, his voice low enough that only I caught it.
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. I was suddenly tired.
Tired of that godsaken image of Preston and Clara playing on repeat in my head, tired of hiding my pregnancy.... because God forbid, the media hears a Vanderbilt got pregnant out of wedlock...and now, tired of knowing that for the rest of it's life, my baby would never ever know of their father, or his incestuous family.
Good wasn't the word. Numb was closer. Numb, and furious, and so damn fucking tired.
"Ms. Vanderbilt…it's your turn." Rico reminded me.
"Don't… don't fall in love with me" I heard myself saying. " And don't try to make me fall in love with you. If you do, the deal is off. No car. No free childcare. Nothing"
It was a line from my own novels. The kind my readers swooned over, the brooding hero's warning before he inevitably did fall. But here, in this dark cellar, it sounded like a plea. But this ain't no romance novel, if it was, Carson Gibbs wouldn't have said "Deal."
We signed the prenup on a barrel still sticky with red wine. My lawyer and friend, Anisa, whom I summoned in bunny slippers, kept side-eyeing Carson.
"You're insane, Emilia. Are you sure?" she hissed as Carson scrawled his name on the marriage certificate.
"Yes," I said, capping the pen. "Congra-fucking- lation to me"
**
There was no aisle to walk, no bouquet to toss. Just Carson's old truck idling at the curb as we walked outside together, me clutching the wedding certificate like it was made of gold. Like it was a shield fashioned against grandmothers who could put Nazis to shame.
Carson tossed his duffel in the trunk, the contents clanking—wrenches, probably. Or whiskey. Maybe I married a drunk, maybe a serial killer, it's didn't matter...a man who fucks his cousin has no business anywhere near me or my baby, Carson, whomever he was, was my way out.
"You're shaking," he said, shrugging off his flannel.
"Adrenaline crash." I forced a laugh, it was too late for me to be a damsel in distress. "Happens when you marry strangers you met in kitchens. Can we get out of here? I'm not ready to face my family just yet"
He draped the flannel over my shoulders. The fabric was warm, smelled like woodsmoke. "We'll stop as soon as I can find a decent diner. You need to eat."
"I'm fine—"
"Not a request." He opened the passenger door. "You're malnourished. The baby needs protein."
I froze. What in the fucking hell?!
"What did you just say to me?" I asked him. "How do you know about my baby?"
His gaze dropped to my stomach, then back to my face, there was no hesitation, just him stating earth shattering facts that could ruin me like it was nothing. "You keep touching it like it's a grenade. Was it supposed to be a secret?"
When the panic came, it came in ten folds. Grandmother might be inclined to keep my secret but this strange man I just married had no reason whatsoever to keep my secret.
What's stopping him from running to the Astors to inform them of this baby and gaining millions in return?
"It doesn't belong to Preston!" I found myself saying.
"Of course, it does" he whispered
"Nooo" I shook my head. "I cheated on him. I had a one night stand with a stranger and got pregnant. It doesn't belong to the Astors!"
He can't closer, forcing me to stop breathing for a second. I held his gaze, I noticed the rare color of his eyes – hazelnut colored.
"You are not the cheating type, Emilia Vanderbilt. And you needn't worry about me, if anyone understands, it's me...some men has no business being fathers. Trust me"
"Thank you" I whispered, gratitude filling me up instantly. "And in exchange, my initial deal stands, you can have the money I offered —"
"I don't need your money—"
"Everyone needs money, Carson Gibbs. It's fine, you still get help with the twins. Just take it!" The panic was beginning to come back but then he nodded. And I exhaled.
"C'mon" He gestured to the car.
***
Carson drove in silence and I leaned my head on the car window, trying to rest.
"Aren't you going to take off your face mask?" I asked him. "What are you hiding? A scar. It doesn't really matter to me if you are hideous. Many consider me fat. Fat and hideous will make a good match, don't you think?"
I looked at him, his eyes glancing over me like he was checking out facts.
"Then many need prescription glasses, Ms. Emilia. Because my wife is not fat. She's beautiful. And my mask keeps you safe from the flu I'm fighting off"
I didn't mean to but I found myself smiling. It didn't matter anyway...his looks, it didn't matter.The mask can stay on.
I dozed off somewhere in Jersey after devouring three milkshakes, my head against his window. When I woke, Carson was humming. Not a pop song. A hymn.
"Shall We Gather at the River."
My mother had sung it to me on those rare occasions where we visited my maternal grandparents ranch, her voice trembling over the grass. It brought back memories.
"You're religious?" I asked him.
"Was." His grip tightened on the wheel. I didn't fail to notice that. "The twin's mother died. Everyone said it was 'God's plan.' Personally, I didn't care for the plan."
The words hung there. He wasn't looking for pity. He was just stating a fact.
"What was her name?" I asked softly.
"Liliana." His jaw flexed.
He quickly changed the subject." So, what do you want to do? Drive around some more?"
I took a deep breath. "I guess, I can't run forever. Take me home. Time to face the wrath of the Almighty Marcy Vanderbilt"