C H A P T E R 7

"Ah, Remi! It's nice to see you up so early."

I wasn't going to admit to anyone, especially Ralph, that I was up so early because I hadn't slept that well in years. So I resorted to glaring at him, before continuing to walk aimlessly around the kitchen for something to eat. "I would say the same to you, but I hate you. So I hope you drown in your cup of coffee."

Ralph looked down at the coffee in his hands, uncertainty flashing in grey orbs. As if I had the capability of drowning him in a cup of coffee a quarter the size of his face.

"She's just kidding dad," Pierre appeared from around the corner, buttoning his shirt. My glare turned into a scowl. Great, both the Turners talking to me. In the morning.

"No, I'm not."

"Well I'll be off!" Ralph interjected, grabbing his briefcase and hurrying out the door.

I slumped down in relief, before I realized that Pierre was still in the house, and worse, he was staring at me.

"What?"

"I'm going off to work too, but I don't want you alone in my house."

"Our house. We're engaged, you idiot."

He grimaced. "Fine, but you better not burn the house down or something. My friend had a crazy girlfriend who set their kitchen on fire once."

"Good thing I'm not your girlfriend," I mumbled.

"Oh, but I thought we were engaged?" He said snarkily, being chuckling and briskly walking out of the door.

Finally leaving me alone to my thoughts. I found a bunch of food in the fridge, finally deciding to just have some ready-made coffee. Then I positioned myself on a comfy couch, and turned on the television.

I tried to concentrate on the sappy drama going on in front of me but my mind was in a traffic jam.

I wondered how my dad was faring, I didn't want to admit it, but I was worried about him.

Back when my mom was still faithful, he used to tell me, "As long as you're okay, I'll be okay." But now he was all alone in a big world, without anyone to guide him out of the hole he had dug around his problems. It was so ironic how back in time, my dad was my parent, but now it seems like the only person acting like a parent was me.

Was he thankful for the job he was getting? Was he mad that I was getting married to a man I've never known? Does he even know I'm getting married? I couldn't help but think about the possibility that he didn't know about the sacrifices I've made for him so he could get his life back together.

And Henry. Oh god, Henry. That little sonofagun. I hadn't spoke to him in two days. That was two days longer than any other time we've spent apart. He couldn't be mad at me anymore, right? I had to tell him everything before he found out and made everything worse than it is at the moment.

My train of thought was broken by the scorching feeling in my hands. I looked down to see that my palms were set firmly on the sides of the burning cup. With an animalistic yelp, I dropped the cup.

"Shit," my heart dropped while I stared at the brown stain spreading onto the expensive looking leather. Pierre was going to kill me. He was going to murder me, bury me in the couch, and throw it in the dump. I was going to die in a couch.

Acting on instincts, I stood up and rushed outside, before locking the house with the card Pierre gave me. If I was never in the house in the first place, he would never be able to blame me.

Seeing that I probably wasn't going to go into the house before Pierre came, I decided to meet up with Henry.

I sucked in a deep breath before taking my phone out and calling him. I usually wasn't scared of talking to Henry, but the thought of him being angry with me made me squirmish.

"Hello?" A muffled voice rang from the other end of the line.

"Henry," I let out a relieved breath, "We need to talk."

. . . . .

"What did you want to talk about?" Henry said, sipping his coffee. He didn't seem mad anymore, but I had a bad feeling about how he was going to react when I told him I was engaged.

"Well it's kind of complicated-"

"I'm not going to eat you, Greggs."

I gulped. The moment of truth.

"I'm getting married."

A mist of hot coffee pricked my face before I could explain. Henry didn't even flinch at the fact that he had just spewed coffee all over me. "What?"

"Remi, you're getting married?"

I cringed at the astonishment in his voice. "It's not that big of a deal, I mean, I don't really know him-"

"You don't know him?!"

This was going way worse than I thought, but words just kept spilling out of my mouth. "No, no, it's fine! He said in return, he'd give my dad a job-"

"He's bribing you to become his wife?!"

"N-no!" I cried, "I mean, yes, but-"

"Wait, who is he anyways?" Henry took another sip of his coffee.

"Um, Pierre Turner."

With a choke, Henry spewed his coffee out his mouth again. I was seriously getting pissed. That coffee was hot. "Pierre Turner?" Henry gasped, "Remi, do you even know who he is?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, wiping the coffee off my face with a napkin, "an asshole."

Henry didn't seem to hear me. "He's one of the youngest billionaires in America! How do you not know this? His logo is on my computer!"

Like a light switch, everything was making sense. "RPT," I whispered to myself, "Ralph Pierre Turner."

"Oh my god," I sighed, letting my face rest in my palms. "This wasn't suppose to happen."

"I don't get it," Henry said, "I've known you for seven years, and you're marrying a man you've known for, two days?"

I scrunched my eyebrows. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"N-nothing!" Henry snapped, before flushing and glaring at his uneaten apple strudel. "Look Rems, I should get going."

A wave of dejàvu washed over me.

"Oh god, Henry, you're being unreasonable."

"Me?" Henry scoffed, "You're the one marrying Pierre Turner! And you don't even know him!"

"Hey!-"

Henry put up his palm to shush me. "Just tell me, do you know his favorite color?"

"How the heck is that even relevant?"

"Do you?" He persisted, irritation apparent in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes. "No."

"Then I'm telling you, Rem. This is all a mistake. I just hope you realize it before it's too late to turn back."

. . . . . .

A/N: hi :)