Page 68 of Dearly Unbeloved
Fact: This marriage isn’t real.
Fact: Sierra doesn’t feel the same way.
Fact: We’re meeting with the inheritance lawyer tomorrow, and by this time in a couple of weeks, Sierra and I will be done.
Sierra is on the couch, humming softly to the bunnies when I get home, and my stomach immediately flip-flops at the sight of her.
I sit on the bench to kick my shoes off, taking a deep breath.
“Hey. Did you have fun?” she calls as I tuck my shoes away and slide my feet into slippers.
“We did, yeah. It was nice just to hang out and talk. And Jazz is so excited about the baby.” I stand up, clutching the bouquet to my chest. “I made you something.”
Sierra sits up as I walk toward the couch, Thorne snuggled against her chest. Her eyes widen as she spies the vase. “Holy shit. You made those?”
“Just the flowers,” I say, quickly, setting them on the coffee table and taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. I spent a half hour in T.J. Maxx deliberating between three vases before spying the white vase with a gold snake painted on the front.
She puts Thorne down, and he bounces over to me to have his nose rubbed. Dibbles is lying in her favorite spot on the back of the couch, half asleep.
Sierra picks up the vase and carefully traces one of theroses with her finger. “These are amazing. I can’t believe you made them for me.”
I shrug, my face flushing. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is,” Sierra says, smiling at the flowers. “I love them. Thank you, honey.”
“You’re welcome.” Thorne loses interest in me, hopping up onto the back of the couch to annoy Dibbles. “What did the three of you get up to today?”
Sierra yawns, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “We’ve had a lazy Sunday. The buns had some treats, we played with their stacking cups, and we all took a nap. Aside from that, we’ve just snuggled all day.”
“That sounds perfect.” I’m surprised and a little embarrassed by how wistful I sound. I toy with the frayed edge of a rip in my jeans (another outfit picked by copying a store mannequin).
Sierra nudges me with her foot, and when I look up, I find her holding out her blanket. She nods at the space beside her in a silent invitation.
I shouldn’t. Fuck, it’s the last thing I should do. But Xan wasn’t kidding when he said I’d changed. I’m so over depriving myself of things I want just because I shouldn’t want them.
I shuck off my slippers and climb into the spot beside her, wrapping my arms around her middle and listening to her heartbeat as she settles the blanket around both of us.
32
SIERRA
I’ll be home by 12. I’ll pick up coffee on the way home. Text me what you want and don’t forget your passport and license. - R
P.S. I have our marriage certificate.
The lawyer’s office handling my grandparents’ estate is a far cry from Michaelson and Hicks. I spend more time around lawyers than most people, but I’m itching to get out of the stuffy office the second I step inside. Even the smell is cloying, like a fancy perfume with a ridiculous price tag that makes you grit your teeth and say, “That’s interesting,” when someone asks what you think.
I never met my mom’s parents, but they lived just outside of Seattle and would have had their pick of firms when setting up their estate. Their choice of lawyer says a lot about them—this whole inheritance situation says a lot about them.
The process is relatively straightforward, at least. It’s a lot of listening to the lawyer drone on about terms, a lot of pretending to read documents (that Cal already checked over for me), and a lot of signing. Cal gave me the day off, but it’s not all that different from being in the office. Except I do actually read shit there. He offered to come with us, for moral support more than anything, but this felt like something Rose and I should do, just the two of us.
The lawyer hands us off to his assistant after advising that everything looks in order, but they’ll be double-checking before making the transfer. By this time next week, I’ll have more money to my name than I know what to do with. Half of it will go to Kyo, and Cal helped me set up an appointment with his financial advisor because I have no idea what I’m doing. For the most part, I like my life, and, as far as I’m concerned, nothing has to change alongside my net worth.
Not nothing, I think, as Rose and I step into the elevator with the lawyer’s assistant. We still have a couple of weeks until Rose finds out about her promotion, but when she gets the job—and she will get the job—everything is going to change. We’ll sign the papers we had drawn up months ago, which have been sitting gathering dust in her desk drawer. I’ll move out and stop attending family dinners. Jazz probably won’t talk to me outside of work anymore, and I’ll have to start over, pretending I want to make new friends and inevitably giving up when people get too close.
And Rose… Rose will move on. She’ll meet someone new, get closer to her siblings, and thrive. And I’ll be so fucking proud of her, even ifI’m not there to see it.
Rose twines her fingers with mine, drawing me back into a conversation I didn’t realize was happening. I jump at her touch. She’s barely looked at me since we woke up in each other’s arms this morning, and she certainly hasn’t touched me.
