Two days later...
VANESSA BELMONT
Aretha sang about R-E-S-P-E-C-T while I danced around the kitchen. It was mid-morning and the staff wasn't yet prepping for lunch, so I had the place to myself.
Henry stretched out across the butcher-block island, his tummy full from the salmon I fed him. I was spoiling this cat forever to make up for the heartlessness of giving him away in my previous incarnation.
I wore a pink silk camisole and shorts along with the matching short robe, which I'd left unbelted. My feet were always cold so I was wearing my favorite purple-monster fuzzy socks. The socks helped me skate across the floor as I belted out the song.
I whirled around to return the butter to the refrigerator and nearly died.
Nathan stood by the sink, staring at me, arms crossed, a half-smile on his handsome face. He put a finger to his ear, which I took as: the loud music is melting my brain. I instructed the virtual assistant to turn off the song.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him.
"Do I need a reason to visit my fiancée?"
I shrugged. "I guess not."
"Why haven't you answered my calls and texts?"
"I didn't want to." I took my plate of toast and glass of orange juice to the center island and put them next to Henry. He sniffed at the juice, and then, as if the citrus scent had offended his most royal majesty, he jumped off the counter and sauntered out of the kitchen. "By the way, that was Henry."
"I'll introduce myself next time." He walked up to me and pointed at my outfit. "Is that what you wear around the house?" He straightened the robe and then tied the belt around my waist. "It's provocative."
"Who am I going to provoke? You?" I lifted my leg and shook my foot. "Does that mean you find my monster socks sexy?"
"Yes." He grabbed me by the waist and put me onto the island. He stood between my legs and grasped my chin. "When you move into our house, you will only wear ugly gray sweats that cover you from head to toe." He glanced down at my thighs. "Baggy sweats. I don't want the male staff to steal glances."
"But the female staff can?"
"No one can."
"Should I also wear a mask? Maybe Michael's from the Halloween movies?" I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I'm not doing that. Also, I'm not doing whatever this is." I pushed on his shoulders, but he refused to move. "Why are you being so weird?"
"I can't stop thinking about cherries." He focused on my lips, and I realized he wanted to kiss me. He dipped his head down, but I leaned back.
"What are you doing?"
"Husbandly duty," he answered.
I put my hand over his mouth. "I relieve you of all spousal responsibilities, sir. Now, why are you really here?"
Nathan straightened. While his face was no longer in the kissing range, his fingers still rested on my hips. My skin tingled from the close contact. "To ask you a question."
"Ask away."
He grasped my chin, forcing me to meet his serious gaze. "Why did you sabotage our engagement party?"
"You know why," I said. "I don't want to marry you."
"It's a family marriage. We signed a contract. It was never about love." He let go of my chin, and then pinched my cheek. "C'mon. I'll help you with wedding stuff."
In my first life, Nathan never once offered to help with anything wedding-related. Despite my efforts to solicit his input, he left decisions to me.
"If you're trying to suck up to my parents, you don't need to. They like you. Better than they like me, actually."
"I'm not trying to suck up to your parents," he said. He brushed my hair away from my face. "I'm trying to suck up to you."
"What? Why?"
"I don't want a fake marriage."
I laughed. "Right. Who are you and what have you done with Nathan Jang? The man who said, and I quote, 'Romantic love won't be part of our marriage.'"
"That was before."
"Before what?"
"Before I understood my own feelings."
"You're confusing me with your white moonlight again." I shoved his shoulders again and this time, he moved back. I jumped off the counter. "Don't worry about the wedding. I handed everything over to my mom. She's thrilled to have carte blanche to turn our nuptials into a business conference with fancy desserts."
"Last week, you called me a thousand times to ask my preferences for flowers and cake flavors. Not to mention changing the reception menu—again. And now … you don't care?"
"That's right," I said. "I don't care. Not even a little."
The reminder of how pathetically obsessed I was to create the perfect wedding for me and Nathan made hot shame crawl through me. Had I really thought that making our ceremony a beautiful, magical experience would somehow break through his hardened heart? Delusional, Vanessa. You were so freaking delusional.
"By the way," I said. "I made honeymoon plans for myself."
"For yourself?"
"What? You want me to stay home while you take Fiona to Italy?"
"I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to take my wife," said Nathan. He grasped my hand. "In case you forgot … that's you."
"When did you get so touchy-feely?" I pulled away. Nate wasn't like this in Life Number One. He put as much distance between us as possible. Probably because I did everything in my power to connect with him, whether he liked it or not. I grew up an obedient good girl because I desired approval and love from my parents. Then I transferred that obsession to Nathan.
I wanted to be loved so badly.
Now that I think about it, it wasn't fair to Nathan to pin all my hopes and dreams on him. Desperation drove me to cling to him, the same way I had tried to cling to my parents. They were not unkind people, but they weren't interested in me as a person. As long as I pretended to be the daughter they expected, I was left alone to do what I wanted. Mostly. Part of that parental obedience was marrying the man they chose.
"What's the point of us spending our honeymoon together?" I asked.