Page 12 of Threads That Bind Us

I don’t know this man. He’s charming and a level of handsome that should be investigated, but he’s still a stranger proposing marriage to me in a bar. I should run. I should slap him. I should throw my near empty-club soda in his face and stomp away.

But maybe we really all do become our parents in the end, because I stay seated.

“My work is a family business. And with family comes tradition.” He twists the pen between his fingers. “Circumstances with my parents have changed, and my sister and I will be taking on more responsibility soon. Which means we’ll be held to tradition younger than we expected. Part of that is to continue the family name.”

His gaze goes distant as he stares at our lists, and I try to contemplate what kind of family business requires marriage to strangers in bars. Certainly the bookshop owners and mechanics and butchers of D.C. do not.

“What are you, in the mob or something?” Genius question, Guinevere. Like he would fucking tell me if he was in the actual mob. Kill me for asking, more likely. But a tiny smile ghosts at his lips, like he finds the thought funny.

“Not exactly, but you’re closer than you probably think.” Goosebumps break out over my skin as he takes a deep breath and turns to face me fully. “I’d like to tell you more. Give you a proper choice. This wouldn’t be short term, and there are other negatives you should consider, but I can also offer you more than he can. Monetarily and otherwise.”

I can feel my face flame and I open my mouth to say something—what, I’m not totally sure—when he stammers.

“No, sorry, that came out completely wrong.” He’s cringing, staring down at the book again. “I meant protection. And long-term support. You’d have more than the bare minimum. This would be a lifetime of ensuring that you and Ana were taken care of. Food, housing, softball cleats, college tuition. Neither of you would want for anything.”

I can’t seem to organize my thoughts. The voice reminding me I do not know this man is persistent in the back of my mind. But honestly, do I really know Ben? And the parts I do know, I fundamentally hate. I barely saw him when he and Isabelle were together, and he was out of our lives in less than a year. How much less do I know the man sitting in front of me than my sister’s father?

Another part of me, a part that I resent, can’t help but crave that stability. I wouldn’t come out of this worrying about the cost of physical therapists or long term treatment. I wouldn’t wonder what happens if Ana needs more support than my crappy job can provide. Even more, college? Ana would have a future of dorm rooms and keg stands if she wanted it. I’ve been banking on her getting a softball scholarship, but to not even have to think about it?

Does that make me like Isabelle? Does taking this choice—to marry someone for that stability—make me more like her than taking Ben’s offer does? Does it matter?

I also know that there must be some massive caveat if this is his proposition. He might not be in the mob, but if he has the money he’s implying, and is willing to offer it to a stranger, there must be some pretty significant strings attached. Illegal, possibly immoral, strings.

“What in the world makes you think that I’d be willing to marry a stranger I met in a bar?” I ask, incredulous.

The world seems to come to a stop as he reaches into his pocket, never taking his eyes off mine. When I look down atthe bar top, I freeze, every last bit of oxygen leaving my lungs.

“Because you’re not a stranger to me, Gwen.” His tone is too soft for the threat he’s making, but I can’t lift my eyes.

Because sitting in front of me is my grandmother’s watch. The only relic I have of my father. He wasn’t a great guy, and he didn’t stick around very long, but his mom wanted to leave something to her only granddaughter.

I wore that watch religiously, despite the fact it made me feel childish, holding on to an artifact of a family I never had. But I lost it that day.

I tried to convince myself I had taken it off before I went to the strip club. That I left it in Kenzie’s hospital room and someone had accidentally trashed it. Or that I took it off at work while cleaning dishes and forgot about it.

But deep inside, I knew. I was so afraid that night—not because of what I’d done, but because I could get caught and leave Ana with no one who cared for her. And it wasn’t until I was home, bleaching and burning my clothes, that I realized my watch was gone. And I knew I’d left a tiny piece of evidence behind.

I forced myself to believe it was okay, that because I never purchased the watch, there was no paper trail connecting me to it. But I was still terrified someone would find Bryan’s body, connect him to Kenzie and her hospital stay, and connect me to her. And the little timepiece in front of me would be proof.

The face is broken and dried blood is etched into the crevices. Still, the hands move, the ticking sound the only thing I can hear.

It feels impossible to breathe, panic flooding my senses as I spiral. How did he find me here tonight? Has he been stalking me? Waiting for the right moment to reveal what he knows? Is he going to turn me in?

I brush my fingers over the band of the watch, unable to help myself. He trails a tattooed finger over my hand, but I’m too in shock to flinch.

“I’d like to tell you more about my proposition, if you don’t mind?” His words are soft, lulling, almost gentle, but the meaning behind them is clear.

This is blackmail.

I try to steady my heart rate. Freaking out won’t do me any good. I need to keep my mind clear. I glance up at Sammy, but he’s not guaranteed to be any help. He’s Charlie’s friend, not mine.

“What do you want?” I ask, refusing to meet his eyes, even with his hand still on mine. I hate my body for its reaction, for the warmth that spreads from his touch.

“Just the opportunity for you to hear me out.” He laces his fingers through mine, his touch so tender.

I swallow hard, thinking of what else he could know about me, about Ana. More than what I told him tonight? Does he know about the McCallums, where they live, where Ana is right now?

I have to buy time to figure out a plan. Right now, he’s asking me to listen to him, and while this could get a lot worse really quickly, I need to appease him until I can be sure I can guarantee Ana’s safety.