Page 73 of Married in Michigan
He walks back over to me. Stands over me, serious and brooding. “You’ve done more for me in the last few weeks than you’ll ever know, Makayla. I know for a fact that I’ve got votes from people simply because of how their perception of me has changed just by having you there.” He tugs on a spiral of curly hair. “So take the jet, okay? It’s the least I can do.”
He turns on his heel and vanishes into his room without a backward glance, his shoulders rounded, hunched.
He’s been moody, lately.
Anxiety over the wedding? I know I’m feeling it, and I don’t have a career and a reputation on the line, nor millions and billions of dollars and invaluable personal, business, and political connections.
I go to my room, strip, and climb into bed, but it’s a long time before I fall asleep.
I think of the heavy, almost sad hunch of Paxton’s shoulders.
The brooding darkness in his eyes.
I want to take it away, but I can’t. I don’t know how. He’s not mine—it’s not my place or my nature.
* * *
I’mquiet on the ride to the airport—Liam tries to engage me in conversation several times, but I’m not feeling it, and he eventually gives up.
The dress fitting was quick and painless. There was a rack of incredible white bridal gowns, each by a high-end designer. I tried on a dozen, and Julie and I settled on the one that looked best—simple, a sleeveless sweetheart neckline; it’s a mermaid style, and the plunging neckline is truly daring, and would be well-nigh immodest if it weren’t for the gauzy lace. As is, I don’t think my breasts have ever been pushed up so high, nor quite so eye-poppingly prominent. I protested this at first, but Julie overrode me. Let what God gave me shine out, she said. It’s just enough of too much to be absolutely perfect. It also fits nearly perfectly, just needing some adjustment in the hips and bust, because I’m so ridiculously curved in both areas.
After some measurements, the dress is taken away to be altered by a team of professionals hired specifically by Camilla for this—no in-house alterations here, thank you very much.
I hope the sarcastic eye roll is evident, because it’s just so over the top.
Once the fitting is done, Liam whisks me off to the airport—a pleasant surprise is waiting for me: a bottle of chilled white wine, courtesy of Paxton, and a packed bag, as the fitting had been early this morning and I hadn’t had time to pack.
He even made sure to include two of the best purses in my new collection, as well some of the jewelry which had, at some point, appeared in a glass box in my room—two-carat diamond solitaire earrings in platinum with a matching three-carat pendant necklace, four-carat diamond tennis bracelets, a sapphire pendant necklace, several more pairs of earrings ranging from simple small diamonds to elaborate tear-drop pieces. When I asked Paxton how much it had all cost, he’d just winked at me and told me not to worry about it.
Obviously, it’s all real, and the potential value of it all makes me nauseous.
Thirty thousand feet up, sipping wine and watching a rom-com on the TV screen…and my phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Miss Makayla Poe?” a smooth female voice asks.
“Yes.”
“This is Jennifer from Harborview Nursing Home. How are you this morning?”
Panic, immediate and throttling. “Is it Mom? Did something happen?”
“No, god, I’m sorry, I should have led with that—no, Miss Poe, your mother is doing very well. No, I’m actually calling because we’ve been going through accounts, and it seems you’re somewhat behind. You’ve always been very prompt, and as a token of appreciation we’re waiving the late fees, but we do need you to get current as soon as possible.”
I swallow hard—before I left with Paxton, I’d given them every dollar I had except for the $250 emergency cash in my wallet. I’d hoped the amount would have covered me for longer than this, but apparently I had miscalculated.
“Okay, um.” I’m already on a sliding scale based on my obviously dire financial situation, and I know they’re doing me a huge favor by even giving me this notice, but the amount in question is still way outside my ability to pay, now that I’ve fallen behind. “Okay. I’ll handle it. Thank you for the notice.”
“You’re welcome and thank you again.”
I end the call and carefully set the device aside—it’s the first cell phone I’ve ever had, the newest sleekest handset, and I’m paranoid about dropping it. I barely know how to use it.
Sigh.
Now what do I do? I have no money. I’m not working. I have nothing of my own to sell. I could ask Paxton to take care of it, but knowing him, he’d go buy the whole nursing home. I can’t go to Paxton. I can’t be any more reliant on him than I already am. I take care of Mom, because she took care of me. It’s my problem. I just don’t know how to fix it.
God, I’m so stupid. I should never have done this. Why did I think it was a good idea? Quit my jobs, leave my mom, marry a stranger…all in some vague hope of someday somehow being able to make things easier. What did I think I was going to do in the meantime? Pay for her hospice care in excess purses?