“I’m serious about keeping my inheritance.”
But the words ring hollow even to my ears. In the beginning, this was entirely about keeping the Cortland fortune where it belongs. I hated that it was Zaya whom I had to convince to help me, hated her more than I normally did, even though I knew it wasn’t her fault that she was the only girl from a Founding family of legal age.
I want to believe that only the money matters, but still find my gaze scanning the cafeteria for her face. I’m already thinking about when she’ll want to visit her grandfather at the care home. Whether I should pick out a car for her so she isn’t tempted to take the bus anywhere again, or if it would make her happier to go the dealership herself and pick something out.
I find myself wanting to do things just to make her happy, not because I’m getting anything out of her in return.
“Have you seen the rock on Zaya’s finger yet?” Iain asked the other two, voice mild. “It’s a Cortland family heirloom.”
If looks could do damage, Iain would be bleeding on the floor. He might still be later when I get my hands on him.
Cal let out a low whistle. “You gave Zaya Milbourne Gram Gram’s ring. Who are you, and what the fuck have you done with Vin?”
“Piss off.”
“You haven’t even heard the best part,” Iain drawls. “He only has a year to—”
I kick Iain hard enough in the shin that I think the bone might have broken my toe. He doesn’t react to the pain, but stops talking long enough for me to divert us to something else.
“I only have to last a year. Zaya walks away with money for college, and I get to keep my inheritance.” My annoyed gaze tracks around the table. “Is there anything else you assholes need to know, or can I tell my stepmother to add you to the headcount?”
“Count me in for a plus one,” Cal says.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Who?”
“Who cares?”
That isn’t even worthy of a response. I look at Elliot. “You in?”
“Of course,” he replies immediately. “I’ll even stop making fun of you, if just so Zaya doesn’t overhear and think she’s the one I’m laughing at.”
“You won’t be laughing when I break your jaw.”
He guffaws, if just to prove a point. “Hell yes, I will.”
One of these jerks will be my best man. If that isn’t a sign this marriage is doomed, nothing is.
Thirty-Three
News of my elopement is all over school by second period, if I’m judging by the way people openly stare at me in the halls. Their gazes linger on the designer dress and practically bulge when my ring catches in the light.
I’ve never felt as much like a zoo animal on display as I did when I stepped foot inside Deception High this morning.
Then I notice that something is different.
Most of the looks aren’t hostile. If anything, people scurry out of my way like there will be consequences if they don’t. The silence is there like it always has been, but now it’s respectful instead of deafening.
Vin has still marked me. But instead of being a pariah, now I belong to him.
Every so often, though, I catch a smile or a nod from someone who has never given me either for years. I nearly run into a bay of lockers when a girl from my P.E. class murmurs a quick Hi, Zaya as she passes me.
Then one of the football players dives to catch a football in mid-air before it can hit me in the back of the head.
When I look up at him wide-eyed, he thanks me for the invitation.
Too stupid to put it together, I ask what invitation he’s talking about.
“To your wedding, of course.”
Giselle Cortland works fast, I have to give her that. Apparently, sometime this morning a save the date went out on social media with a promise that formal invitations would arrive by the end of the week. My fake wedding is gearing up to be as big as Founder’s Day, with most of the town planning to attend.
It didn’t seem to matter to anyone that the invites were coming at the last possible moment.
For the first time ever, I have a partner for the lab experiment in Physics as opposed to working alone like I normally do. People who had spent years pretending I don’t exist, suddenly find time to compliment my outfit or greet me as if we were long-lost friends.
This should all make me angry, this reminder of all the things Vin has taken away from me over the years. Instead of angry, it all just makes me feel weird. Like I’m getting a glimpse into someone else’s life while wearing their skin, making the world around me seem both completely familiar and entirely alien.
And when I think about him, it isn’t anger that stirs in my belly and robs me of breath.
As if I need another reminder that I’m in the midst of doing the dumbest thing I’ve ever done: falling in love with him.
When I get distracted in class and drop a beaker so it shatters to the floor, three different people rush over to help clean it up. It takes a beat too long for me to thank them. I’m still not used to being allowed to speak to anyone.
Part of me expects Vin to jump out from behind a lab table with murder in his eyes.
Then I remember again that I let him marry me yesterday.
I’d already decided not to eat lunch today, and I never willingly skip a meal. But that’s where Vin will be, holding court
