Page 8 of Conflagration
I want to tell him that it sounds terrible. That, once I go to his room, I won’t want to leave. But instead, I decide to be grateful that they’re bending the rules for me, even if it’s just because they think we’re some modern-day love story.
“Okay. That sounds good, I guess,” I tell him and allow them to help me into the wheelchair, my IV pole right beside me.
“All right, Ms. Covington. Let’s go see your fiancé,” the nurse says, and I have to suppress a small laugh.
Ariana Covington, you little slut. Two different fiancés in just one day.
Smiling up at her, I nod. “Let’s go.”
Present Day
I’M ETERNALLY grateful when the latest scene fades to black and the faint, familiar beeping comes back in, right along with the darkness. It’s been nearly twelve years since those events led to the massive rift in my family, but that dream was so vivid that it felt like it was yesterday.
Wanting to wipe the memory from my mind, I will my eyes to open, but they just won’t comply. I feel my head jerk slightly, and I hear a nearly inaudible moan. It came from me—I know it did—but it sounded so far off. I’m struggling to stay lucid, to keep the darkness at bay, when that damn bright, white light shows up again. At first, I think I’m staring up at the fluorescent lights of the hospital room because I feel a soft, warm hand slipping into mine. It’s small, but the squeeze it gives me is reassuring. Trying to turn my head is no use, and I see nothing but the backs of my eyelids. Just as I’m slipping under, I feel a warm breath on my ear.
I need you to wake up, Branson. Please wake up.
If I could laugh, I would. I must be imagining things, because me? Branson Wellington? No one’s ever needed me. And I’m not sure anyone ever will. But that voice whispers one more time before I follow that light, wondering what kind of hell I’m about to relive this time.
July 2006
AFTER I finish straightening my tie, I turn and gratefully accept the three fingers of scotch from Shane, my closest cousin and one of my groomsmen. As I toss back the liquid, it causes a burning sensation to fill my chest, but it does its job and chases away the anxiety—the anxiety that’s been building up inside me the closer this day has come. The day I marry Megan Caldwell. The day I never thought would come, but like a barreling train, I couldn’t stop it from happening.
As much as I hoped things would have derailed sometime in the past four years, they didn’t. It’s not that I don’t love Megan. In my own way, I do. What may have started off as a mistake actually blossomed into something good. Something safe. Something secure and something entirely necessary, even if it started off in the worst way possible.
After Knox left, Megan and I fell into a relationship to keep up for appearances’ sake. If we’d have broken up any time soon, I knew my parents would’ve become suspicious that Megan and I had been just a one-night stand instead of actually having feelings for each other. And let’s be honest. I’d spent most of my time busting my ass in school and then at work, leaving little time for relationships. Getting laid was easy. Finding a girl who understood that your career came first? Not so much. Megan, however, knew the score. Hell, she was fine with the score. She wanted the score. She was more than happy to be part of the game.
In the end, she’s just another means to an end. I know that makes me sound like a prick—I am one—but Megan’s fully aware of it. She wants me to be CEO almost more than I do, and last year, when Dad started hinting around at retirement and wanting to be a granddad, I knew it was time to move our relationship forward. I proposed. She said yes. And here we are.
So why do I feel like I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life?
Pushing the thoughts aside, I finish the scotch. I know what I’m doing. It’s what I’ve always done. Anything necessary to secure my place as the head of Wellington Enterprises. Now I’ll have a beautiful wife by my side. Life could be worse.
A throat clears and I look up to see Shane leaning back against the door, watching me. “It’s not too late to back out, you know,” he tells me, and I scoff as I look at my watch.
“The ceremony starts in less than half an hour, Shane. I’d say it’s a little too late.”
He shakes his head. “Maybe cuttin’ it a little close, but it’s not quite too late. Are you sure about this, Bran? I mean, I know you’ve been together for a few years, but I don’t know, man. I just don’t think she’s your one.”
“My one?” I scoff. “There’s noonefor me. Actually, there is, and that’s the business. Megan knows I’m married to the job. She knows what she’s getting into.”
“Do you even hear yourself? That’s no way to start a marriage. Yeah, she may be okay with it now, but eventually, she’s going to want more from you. She’s going to tire of your late nights at the office. Hell, look what she did to your family. To your brother. You think she won’t do the same to you?”
“We had a deal. She could do whatever she wanted during her college years as long as she was discreet. But once the engagement ring was on her finger, all male-involved extracurricular activities ceased. It’s in the prenup. She’d be an idiot to violate that.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I continue.
“As for what she did to my family… She’s not the only one who fucked up here. And at least, by marrying her, I’ll feel as if I didn’t tear my family apart for nothing.”
That anxiety begins to well up in my chest again, but this time it’s not for Megan. It’s for Knox.
Shane’s eyes soften. “Have you heard from him?”
“You know Cohen’s the only one he’ll speak with.”
“And the P.I.?” he asks.
Shane’s the closest Wellington cousin to my age, and we were always close growing up, even if we’re polar opposites. We work together at Wellington Enterprises, but he’s never wanted the power, the name, the prestige. No, Shane doesn’t care that his last name is Wellington. In fact, his dad, my uncle Clay, has been hounding him to take over the Atlanta office, but he doesn’t want the responsibility. At least not right now, he claims.
