Page 56 of Arranged Devotion
But for some reason, a nagging part of me trusts him. Maybe it’s his unflinching honesty.
Maybe it’s the way he kisses me.
Can’t change anything now.
CHAPTER 14
REGAN
“Sit still.” My mother tugs at my hair and I grunt in response, nearly dropping my phone.
“Mom, could you not?”
“I could, but I’m going to if you keep on squirming. I’m almost finished.”
I grumble something but quickly shut my mouth at the look Noreen gives me in the mirror.
She’s in a mood today and I don’t know why. Not that I have the emotional space to deal with it at the moment.
I’m currently occupied with my own issues around today’s wedding.
It’s strange, sitting in a chair in front of a massive mirror, wearing a white dress, looking exactly like a bride’s supposed to look, but notfeelinglike one. I know, at an intellectual level, that I’m getting married in a little over an hour.
But my gut says this is all wrong.
Not that I can stop it. And even if I could, what would I do? Go back to being single? Hating myself for what Kieren did to me? That guy can go to hell for all I care.
Though hitching myself to Liam Lankshear probably isn’t a reasonable reaction to getting cheated on.
“There. Finished. Take a look.” Mom sits back and allows me the dignity of movement for the first time in twenty minutes. I turn sideways and inspect her work in the mirror: a long braid, wavy, loosely done, with several white flowers and a complicated pattern on the base of my skull.
Frankly… it’s beautiful.
“Mom…” I catch my lip between my teeth and have to take a deep breath to keep from crying. For whatever reason, my reality hits hard all of a sudden.
I’m getting married to a man I barely know… and don’t particularly like.
A dangerous, violent man.
All because I’m a useful chess piece.
“Yes, sweetie, I know, I’m quite good.” Mom stiffly pats my knee. That’s about as expressive as she gets. “There's no reason to cry over my skills, darling.”
I laugh despite myself and wipe my eyes. “God, I’m going to mess up my makeup.”
“I’ll fix it if you do.” She makes me turn to face her and dabs at my face with some tissues. “There, not bad at all. You’re fine, right?”
“Mom…” I trail off. What can I say to her? Tell her that I’m cracking up inside? That I want to scream and scream and hope someone would come to help me, but knowing that nobody would? I’m a victim of my own life. I’m a prisoner in my own wedding.
“I know, Regan.” Mom’s back straightens. She gives me her severe look, but for the first time in my life, I think I can see something else. Something new… and vulnerable.
It terrifies me.
“There’s really no other option, is there?”
“I’m afraid not.” She fusses at my hair. “When your father told me, do you know what I said?”
Several options run through my head, mostly some variation ofyes dear. My mother has known better than to mess with my father for the bulk of her life.
