Capturing Peace (Sharing You 0.50)

I’m sure most girls dreamt of a man who their parents would absolutely adore, but my parents hadn’t exactly given me a choice when it came to Charles. I had to date him. It was a match made in “Kentucky Derby Heaven,” as my mother liked to say. And, no, I’m not joking. Both our families were from the Brighton Country Club neighborhood in Lexington, and every year for the last fifteen years, either Charles’s or my family had had a horse win the Kentucky Derby. Our parents were always talking about combining our stables, and I was beginning to think I’d already been sold off to the York family to make this happen.

Why not just break up with him and tell my parents to shove it? Uh, yeah . . . not so easy in my family. I was a Cunningham; in the racing world, we were pretty much royalty. My parents were Bruce and Charlotte, and as the only daughter of the perfect power ­couple, I was expected to be perfect as well. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, and a perfectly planned life.

The only thing I’d ever done for myself was go to culinary and then pastry school; and it’d been a huge to-­do in our house. The only ­people who had supported me were our maid, Barbara, and surprisingly, Charles. I’d been so taken aback and grateful—­since he’d gotten my parents to finally agree to it—­that it’d been the only time I’d ever called him by his preferred name, ‘Chad.’ He hated the name ‘Charles,’ and I think that is why I refused to call him anything else.

Charles said my name and I leaned closer to the door in time to catch whatever his dad was saying.

“You’re sure she’ll say yes? I don’t know what’s going on with that girl of yours, Bruce, but she’s seemed rather . . . hesitant lately.”

Say yes to what?

“I’m sure of it, she knows her place. She knows how important this merger is.”

“I don’t know—­” Chuck, Charles’s father, began.

“Dad, stop. She’ll marry me. Like Bruce said, she knows her place; and thank God for that. The sooner she gets off this pipe dream of owning a bakery, the better.”

Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s surprising, seeing as you’re the only one who encouraged Kamryn to go to those food schools.”

Charles laughed and took a sip of his drink. “No offense to your home and wife, Bruce, but I want a wife who knows her place in my home as well as by my side.”

Chuck and Dad both chuckled. I continued to stand there with my jaw on the floor.

“Charlotte’s great for business and public outings,” Charles continued “—­don’t get me wrong—­but that woman couldn’t cook if her life depended on—­”

Dad cut him off. “Which, of course, means Kamryn couldn’t cook before she went to those schools.”

With the hand holding his scotch glass, Charles pointed at Dad. “Precisely.”

“Smart kid you’ve got there, Chuck.” Dad laughed into his glass before taking another sip. “Damn smart kid.”

“So you aren’t letting her open up the bakery? Your mother and I have been worried about your judgment in letting her do this.”

“Hell no,” Charles laughed. “There’s a reason I haven’t let her open one yet, I’m just trying to keep her happy until we’re married.”

“And you’ll be proposing tonight?”

My eyes about popped out of my head at my dad’s question.

“Yup, gonna push for that whole ‘we’ve been together forever, there’s no point in having a long engagement’ thing. My guess, end of the year, we’ll be married and our families can stop dicking around with this merger.”

“Sounds good,” Dad said, and the men stood up to shake hands across the table.

I made sure to keep quiet as I quickly backed away from the door and took off for my room. Get married to him? Oh, hell no. I may have stayed with him to keep Mom and Dad happy and off my back for the last six years, but no way in hell was I going into a lifelong commitment with him. And I couldn’t believe he would encourage me to go to those schools just so he’d have a wife from the fucking fifties!

“Cook for you?” I hissed as I shut my bedroom door and hurried to the closet. “I’ll cook for you.” Grabbing a small suitcase, I threw it onto the bed and opened it up. “With rat poison.”

I buzzed Barbara before grabbing only my favorite clothes and shoes and tossing everything in there. I was throwing the necessities from my bathroom in a small bag when I heard Barb’s voice in my room.

“What can I do for ya, baby girl . . . Kam, honey?”

“Barb!” I apparently still hadn’t graduated from hissing. “He’s p

roposing!”

Her eyes were wide as she looked at the too-­full suitcase. “I thought we were already expecting that.”

“Tonight! And he just told Dad that we would be married by the end of the year, that’s barely four months away!”