If I’d had an appetite, it was now gone. “Before we come to this understanding,” I forced myself to repeat his phrase, “why are you saying we’re already married?”
“I called in a favor.”
“A favor?”
“The paperwork is currently with the justice of the peace in Hunt County. I’ve helped him out of a few tight spots. He’s happy to indulge my request.”
“There are too many things wrong with that statement.”
“Do tell?” he said as he again lifted his fork.
“First, while I do have identification as Madeline Miller, in reality, she doesn’t exist.”
“She does. She wouldn’t be able to enter tournaments or carry a driver’s license if she didn’t; however, you’re correct. For this to work in all ways, meaning for you to be able to stake your claim, I am marrying Madeline Tate. You see, Mr. Ivanov has retained all of your personal information.”
My head shook. “I never gave it to him.”
“No, you gave it to Dr. Miller.”
My mind swam as thought after thought and memory after memory pressured the dam I’d constructed. I struggled to breathe as the seams of the dam gave way. Pushing the chair back, I stood, determined not to drown in the flooding current.
Would Marion’s determination to marry Madeline Tate bring to light that he couldn’t because I was already married?
“Marion, this won’t work. I’m telling you. I can’t legally marry you.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet box. Prying it open, he lifted the ring. “Oh, but you can and will.” He sat the ring on the table between us. “Now, little lady, try this on. We must have it fitting before we are photographed tonight out in high society.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why marriage?”
“So that I may adopt Ruby. Don’t you see? The two of you are a package deal.” While my skin prickled with disdain, an idea developed and grew as I stared at the ring. “You said you had a jeweler create this ring?”
“Yes.”
“Where is his or her store?”
“Just outside of Dallas. If it doesn’t fit, I can have my driver take you to the store, and I was promised it would be rectified.”
Saying a silent prayer, I reached for the ring. With it pinched between my thumb and forefinger, I held it up toward the dining room light. As I did, I wondered how something so costly could be so hideous.
Marion nodded my way.
As soon as I began to slip it over my fourth finger of my left hand, I knew. As I lowered it, I fought my urge to smile; instead, tilting my head, I tried to sound sad. “It seems too big.”
“Finish your breakfast. David will take you to St. Pierre. We have reservations for this evening at a private club. If we hurry, Randolph can get it sized.”
“Again, I can’t.”
Marion’s expression hardened. “Our reservations are for one of the most elite clubs in Dallas. Pick out a nice dress and you’ll accompany me. If I hear another complaint, I’ll reconsider our plans. You see, there are a very select set of friends and business partners who would enjoy meeting you in a less conventional way. From what Andros told me, the night in Chicago wasn’t your only time to, shall we say…perform.”
My eyes widened in horror at his suggestion. “Are you serious?”
“Do you think it’s wise to push me? After all, I’ll simply explain that I’m allowing you to live out a fantasy. They won’t know that the fantasy is actually mine. You will be the only one who knows. Of course, I won’t allow anyone to touch what is mine. From what I’ve heard, Andros wasn’t always as thoughtful. See, I told you that I could offer more than he.”
I pushed the chair away from the table. “I believe I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Sixty minutes, Madeline. Be ready for David.”
I turned to walk away when the calling of my name caused me to turn.
“I believe you forgot your ring.”
Patrick
When Ruby and I ended our question and answer session, I felt a bit overwhelmed. Not with what I learned, but with all I didn’t know. Her favorite color was blue. She loved pizza with extra cheese and hated nuts. Her favorite holiday was spring break—I didn’t correct her on it not being a holiday. She said that over the years she and her mother would go to Padre Island or another warm place during that week in the spring, making it her favorite. She talked a little bit about art, her love of drawing, and how she enjoys reading—but not always school assignments.
Our talk was informational and at the same time not even close to enough.
How was I supposed to get to know someone who had lived sixteen years without me?
Before I left Ruby in the penthouse, I broached the subject of my paternity.
“Ruby, I understand the desire to blame someone for years of not knowing the truth, but if you ask me, assigning blame shouldn’t be our focus, mine or yours…or your mom’s.”
With her knees pulled up to her chest, sitting in a way I remembered her mother doing when she was young, Ruby held on to her knees and shrugged. “I can’t believe you two were married.”
“I still have the license.”
“I believe you,” she said. “Which makes no sense. When I’d ask Mom about the man who helped make me, she would say he died in the war.”
I took a deep breath. “I was in the war, in Iraq. Like I said, we made assumptions about one another that have proven false.”
“You were…in the war?”
“I’ve been in a few.”
“Are you mad at my mom for not telling you?” she asked.
“What good would that do? Would it get me another day with you or with her? Would it bring back time we missed? Your mom and I met when we were younger than you are today.”
“Yeah, she was only two years older than me when I was born.”
“You look so much like her, like she did, but at the same time, you’re so much…” I sighed. “…no, I am not mad at Madeline. She raised an intelligent, inquisitive, and refined young lady. That makes me proud, not only of you but also of your mom. In the short time Maddie and I were able to talk about you, I learned that she loves you very much.”
Ruby nodded. “I know.”
“Maybe one day you’ll think of me as a father or maybe a friend. The father concept is new for me too.”
“I don’t know what to think of you.”
Her honesty made me smile. “That’s reasonable. This has all happened fast.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s you, Mr. Hillman, these people.” She lifted her chin toward the kitchen where the drone of unintelligible conversation could be heard. “It’s weird.”
“It is?”
“You killed Mr. Hillman and the other man yesterday.”
“I wish we could get past that.”
“I don’t want to,” she said, standing and walking to the windows and back. “He killed Oleg—in front of me—and at that moment I wanted to kill him, wanted him dead. I didn’t and couldn’t do it, but you did. And then there’s the way you all act around here. I don’t know…it feels not fake.”