Page 89 of By His Vow

I’m not going to lie; it hasn’t been anything like I thought it would be.

Saying my final goodbyes to Dad was a headfuck all in itself. Watching Mom crumble and Miles mourn, hurt. It hurt more than the loss did. But even still, I couldn’t do anything. It was like I was there in body but not in spirit. Like I was watching everything play out from a distance, not experiencing it firsthand.

It was weird.

Even now having been through it, I still can’t get my head around how detached I felt from the entire thing.

It wasn’t until Kingston reached for my hand and pulled me closer that I started to really feel anything.

Sure, there was some grief in there. But mostly, it was disappointment and contempt.

All my life, Dad ensured Miles had everything. I might have had the same access to money, the same education, but that was where it ended. Standing there at that grave, that became all too real. Miles now has everything, no questions asked, but in order for me to get any kind of inheritance, I have to jump through a million hoops.

I have to marry someone. Be a wife to a man I never would have chosen for myself just to get the one thing I truly want.

It’s not about the money. I couldn’t give a crap about that.

I earn my own money, pay my own way, and I’m more than happy to continue that way.

But that cottage…I just can’t let my dream go.

I squeeze my eyes closed and immediately see two children and a dog running around the backyard that’s filled with beautiful blooms.

My heart aches for it. For the lifestyle, for the peace.

I love Chicago, but it’s full-on, and I don’t ever see that changing.

Especially not with the new merger.

With a sigh, I take a step back so I can really appreciate the beauty of this closet.

The left-hand side is his. There are rows and rows of tailored suits of every shade. The shelves of shoes are endless, and when I move closer, I find that his collection of designer watches is showcased with a glass top.

I’m no stranger to wealth. I grew up with access to everything my heart desired. But even still, seeing it laid out so blatantly before me makes me do a double take.

I haven’t lived like this since I started college. And even before then, I spent most of my time at a boarding school.

Shaking my head, I walk back to my side and begin pulling draws open and checking out what else he’s bought me.

I find everything. Literally everything I could possibly need to live here. I wouldn’t need to move a thing in.

Maybe that’s his plan.

He might be forced to live with me, but maybe my baggage is a step too far for his fancy penthouse…

But then I think of the scatter cushions, blanket, and flowers downstairs. His confession about the bed behind me being new.

Those aren’t the actions of a man who isn’t fully in this.

With a million and one opposing thoughts spinning around my head, I try to decide what to wear.

My need to shed my depressing black dress and jacket is too much to ignore.

Especially when I pull a drawer open and find tanks and sweats staring back at me.

He literally has thought of everything.

In seconds, my outfit, and thankfully, my bra, has been discarded on the floor and I’m pulling the softest sweats I’ve ever felt up my legs as I slip the tank over my head.