Page 3 of I Almost Do

James got a lot out of our arrangement in the end. He got a multibillion-dollar corporation and a lot of money, at least. Though my father probably would have given him the company whether he married me or not. As James once told me in biting tones, “Your father didn’t buy me.” But I guess he also got a pretty big pain in the ass when he married me.

So I look at his ear again. Because that’s so much easier than looking into those burning eyes.

I’m not the only one who’s paid a price for this dubious marriage. I caused him pain when he married me. Mostly inadvertently, but I still did it.

He’s waiting for me to speak. But this moment feels too fragile for the words I carried with me up that elevator of glass and steel.

He breaks the silence when it becomes painfully obvious that I’m just going to stand there, staring at his gorgeous earlobe.

“You traveled all this way, Clarissa. It must be important for an in-person meeting without even calling ahead. What can I do for you?”

I swallow hard, and then I hold out the folder. “You can sign these papers.”

Cruel Summer

Clarissa

Two and a Half Years Ago

“Sayitlikeyoumean it.” Bronwyn narrows her blue eyes, glaring at me through FaceTime.

I glance around my Brooklyn Heights brownstone bedroom, checking for an audience I know isn’t there.

“I….” I clear my throat.

“Clarissa, if you want to go away to school, you should go. Repeat after me: ‘Dad, I’m a twenty-year-old woman, and I want to go to college in Pennsylvania.’”

It’s true that I want to go away to school. Sometimes, as ungrateful as it sounds, I feel like I’m trapped here, living my life for another person. I want to make my own choices. Take some risks. Try something new.

But the idea of setting off my father’s anxiety pulls me up short every time. He’s an amazing man. It’s not only me who thinks so. He’s been on the cover ofTime, after all. But he’s also fragile in a way the rest of the world doesn’t understand.

“I can go my senior year,” I hedge. “I should keep commuting from home for now.”

“Psssh. At the rate you’re racking up credits, you’re not even going to end up having a senior year. You’ll graduate early.”

“What else am I supposed to do with myself? You and Franki and Janessa are all gone. I have zero social life. Zero activities. School and writing are the only things I have besides my dad.”

“That’s all the more reason to get a life and grow a pair, Harcourt.”

“I’ve already brought it up, and he can’t handle it.”

“You were kidnapped by your own nannyseventeenyears ago. You were only gone for three hours before they got you back without a scratch on you.”

“But then my mother died. It broke something in him. I can’t scare him, Bronwyn. When I bring up going away, he looks so worried and heartbroken.”

“He was worried, so you didn’t go with my family to Europe. He was worried, so you didn’t play sports. Not even swim team, and you’re like a fish in the water. He worries, so you don’t date, just in case the guy turns out to be Jack the Ripper or something. It’s pathological.

“Mark my words—one of these days, you’re going to flip a switch and end up on some viral video having a meltdown. It's better to ease into freedom now. Think of it as a controlled release.”

I gurgle in laughter at the ridiculous thought, throw myself back onto my bed, and land in a fluffy cloud of comforter.

I hold the phone above me, looking up at my blonde firecracker friend. On the screen, my own image reflects back in the corner. And, for some reason, the contrast of my freckled complexion against the baby pink of the comforter makes me squirm. This entire bedroom is like sleeping in a vat of cotton candy.

“He’s protective. He loves me, and I’m all he really has.”

She scoffs. “He has friends. Stop making your father sound pathetic.”

“Okay. I’ll bring it up at dinner,” I soothe, knowing full well I’ll tiptoe around it and back off at the first sign of trouble.

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