Best I Ever Had

Nothing about signing a contract regarding your partner and future personal life is normal. He says, “Because it’s something your mother wants. She and Camille’s mom are best friends. Arranged marriages are one of the oldest traditions—”

“Not in America. Your marriage wasn’t arranged. No one in our goddamn history had an arranged marriage, Dad.”

“No one needed one before.” He puffs on the cigar, then rocks back in the leather wingchair

“So you’d rather me spend my life with someone who tolerates me instead of loves me?”

Little billows of smoke are exhaled into the air as he mulls it over. For a second, one brief one, I see a man who cares. “It’s a dilemma, son.” Rocking forward again, he takes his fountain pen and centers it on the mat. “The time for debate is over. We gave you the year you asked for. You’ve graduated, but now it’s time to grow up and be responsible. You’re the sole heir to wealth that will continue to support our family for generations to come. Settle down and get married. Camille can pop out a few kids, and you can fuck whoever you want on the side. Work or sit back and enjoy your brood. We’re giving you more than you could ever want, Cooper. But now it’s time to make a decision using your brain and not your dick.”

“What about my heart?” I ask with less anger, less of me altogether. The wiggle room I had to get out for good has closed in on me. He’s going to get what he wants—a decision being made after I was pushed in a corner.

“It’s always been a worthless organ. Don’t fall into the traps, and there will be plenty more in the future.”

Story has been relegated to a “trap” in their eyes. They don’t know her at all, or her heart and intentions. They’re judging her by other women who preceded her in my life, and it sounds like from his as well. “That sounds like you know from experience.”

“Your mother was a wise decision. She’s still beautiful, intelligent, and she’s passionate about upholding the Haywood legacy. I couldn’t have asked for a better wife.”

I sit back in the chair and look out the window. “Is that all that matters? If she looks good on my arm and on paper?”

The question seems to stump the great legal mind of Cooper Haywood, Esquire. “Maybe you need to ask yourself why you’re with someone that doesn’t add to your standing in society.”

“Society turned its back on me a long time ago. Why would I give a shit about my standing in it now?”

Resting his forearms on the desk, he clasps his hands together. The white knuckling has always been one of his tics that I’ve used to monitor how far I can push things. As it stands now, white knuckles leave no room for him to change his mind.

“You’re in love with a girl who hasn’t traveled fifty miles outside Atterton until you took her to New York City and then brought her to Haywood. You saw her eyes. They were as big as saucers when she saw this place. I’m sure her ears were ringing with the sound of the register. Scoring a Haywood would be a big windfall for Ms. Salenger.”

“No,” I say, slamming my fist on the desk. “Stop it. Now. Don’t fucking talk about her like you’re doing her or me a favor.” My mind is still blown by how shortsighted he’s being. “If you can give her any credit for what she’s survived and achieved on her own, then look at me, your only son. I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been because of her. Doesn’t that matter?”

He chuckles, then sucks on his cigar again. “Healthy, huh? We all saw how she handles alcohol. The girl drinks like a fish. If that’s the standard you’re working from, I guess she matches your drinking problem.”

I stand, tired of this bullshit. “I should have known any conversation that I came to you in earnest would devolve into insults and inventing shit as a verbal knockdown.” I stare at him. “The saddest part to me doesn’t involve money. It’s that I’m left wondering why I wasted so many years caring. Fuck you and your legacy.”

“You don’t care. Okay, I didn’t want to go there.”

Throwing my arms out, I ask, “Go where? To hell? Look around, Dad. We’re already there.” I’m done. I’m done with everything. I’ll start over with Story. We’ll make ends meet. I’ll sell my cars. I’ll sell everything if it means I get to be with her. I walk to the door and swing it open. “Give it all away for all I care.”

Before I have time to walk through the doorway, he says, “Calliope Salenger.”

With my back to him, I still, the name freezing me to the spot, even my breath refusing to escape. When he doesn’t say anything, I shut the door and turn back around. “What about her?”