Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Where are you staying?” she asks.
My smile widens. “With Foxx Carmichael.”
“Ooh …”
I laugh. “What kind of ooh is that?”
“Exactly the kind of ooh you think it is.” She laughs, too. “How is that going?”
“Well …” My laughter shifts. “I have something to tell you.”
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath and brace myself against the windowsill. “Foxx and I are getting married.”
The line is silent.
“The official line is that we’ve been having a secret relationship for a couple of years and decided to get married soon. Like, we’re probably getting married tomorrow kind of soon.”
“You’re getting married tomorrow, and you’re just now telling me? Bianca.”
“Hang on. Don’t get all crazy on me.”
“Oh, child. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
I chuckle. “The real reason we’re getting married is because Jason and Gannon found a loophole in the Brewer Sports amendment. I’m assuming they told you about it.”
“They did. I almost hunted your father down myself and held him to task.” She scoffs. “I’d like to say that this is the most surprising thing he’s done, but I’m afraid it would be setting the table for him to one-up it again.”
Sexual misconduct. Threatening his son’s girlfriend. Selling Brewer Trade for well below value. Firing our chief financial officer for no cause—no legal cause. Purchasing a professional baseball team, the Tennessee Arrows, on a whim.
Well, maybe not on a whim. Maybe to benefit the Downings. But why?
“It does feel like that’s how it’s been working,” I say.
“Your brothers only told me they resolved it, but not how. I was in the middle of a meeting about the Arrows baseball team—I’m struggling to find a GM—so I took them at their word. But what does a loophole and you getting married have to do with each other?”
“Well, if I don’t get married before my birthday, then our only option is to fight it out in court. We may be able to do that, but not without a fortune spent—both monetarily, time-wise, and emotionally. And none of us love that option.”
“No, we don’t.”
I pace the room. “Alternatively, if I get married before my birthday, the amendment is void. Even if we shift the trust to a new document—which we’re doing, as you know—the Downings could have a legal leg to stand on. But if I’m Mrs. Carmichael, it voids the entire thing.”
She groans. “Are you sure? This seems so barbaric. And the fact that it was your father who put you in this position infuriates me.”
“Well, the infuriation line starts behind me.”
“I am so sorry, Bianca.” She pauses. “I just want to put this out there—if we lose Brewer Sports, we’ll survive. We don’t need the money, and our portfolio is—”
I stop pacing. “That’s not the point.”
She doesn’t speak and waits for me to expound.
“Obviously, we don’t need the money. It’s the principle of the matter. And I would rather sell it for pennies on the dollar than hand it over to the Downings.” I grit my teeth. I will not let Dad win this one. “And it’s personal for me at this point. He wagered my marital status, Mother. He hinged his hideous plans on something so private. And don’t think it’s a coincidence that it was whether I was married and not Gannon or Ripley. He thought he could manipulate me like he does every other woman in his life—no disrespect intended.”
“It’s the truth either way.”
Sadly.
My heart hurts for my mom. She’s been pushing forward every day—one foot in front of the other—to clean up the mess her husband made. I hope one day she can stop, pause, and have the space to find what makes her happy. I don’t think she’s been happy in a long time, and that breaks my heart.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asks. “I feel so helpless. I want to go to war for you, baby girl, but I don’t know where to start.”
I sit on the bed again and consider her question.
Can she do anything? No.
Would I want her to do anything if she could? Also … no.
I ignore the swirling sensation in my stomach and focus on the wall across the room. “This is probably going to sound like I’m having a stress reaction, but … I’m okay, Mom. I’m really okay, I think.”
Her tone softens. “Do you want to talk about anything?”
I read through the lines. And I can’t help feeling like a little girl for a beautiful split second.
Since graduating from high school, my mother and I haven’t discussed anything besides business. I can’t recall having anything other than a superficial conversation with her about men, feelings, or face creams. She’s been a great mother in many ways, and I don’t blame her for the lack of depth of our relationship. I’m just as much to blame. I’ve spent my whole life following in my father’s footsteps and neglected … everything else. It wasn’t until he was unmasked, and I saw the destruction his choices have had on his life and ours that I paused to take stock of my own life.