Sitting across from Mrs. Walton was much more intimidating on my own than it ever was when Eric was there. I struggled to maintain my nerves as we made small talk while waiting for our food. My knee was bouncing so much I thought it'd end up knocking into the table. I had to place a hand on it to keep it rested, which didn't seem to help.

She hadn't brought up Eric or the wedding yet, and I had already been there for fifteen minutes. I was grateful when my salad arrived, so I could focus my attention on anything else but her inquiring gaze.

I drizzled the ranch dressing over the top of the pile of lettuce, tomatoes, olives, onions, cucumbers, and croutons. Mrs. Walton lightly cleared her throat, obviously trying to get my visual attention. I looked up, and she smiled tightly. "I suggest you should consider just dipping your fork into the dressing. So you won't have any issues fitting into your dress."

Was she telling me how to eat? Not even my mother would do that. "What dress?" I asked, confused.

"Your wedding dress, of course. Didn't your seamstress just finish taking it in?"

I placed the ramekin of dressing down on the table, looking at her even more confused now. "I thought you said Eric talked to you yesterday?"

She quietly slurped a spoonful of minestrone soup, placed the spoon back down, and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her cloth napkin. "He did."

I crunched my beautifully drenched forkful of salad. I considered responding with my mouth full, but because of the manners my parents instilled me with, I waited until I swallowed before continuing. "Did he tell you we broke up?"

The lack of surprise or any emotion in her face told me he did. "It seems you can't decide what you want, dear. First you're on, then you're off, then you're on again, and now you're off again. That's what we, in the political world, like to call a flip-flopper."

"Mrs. Walton-"

"Donna, please."

"Donna," I said with complete clarity. "I am not a flip-flopper, because I do know what I want. And as much as Eric means to me, we're just not in love. I..." Should I tell her? Surely she already knew. If Eric had told her we were over, she would have asked for details. "I'm in love with someone else. It's not fair for him to be with someone who doesn't love him the way he deserves."

I tried to take another bite but paused as she gave out a light chuckle. It sounded almost evil. It was definitely not the usual musical laugh she ordinarily had. I lowered my full fork back down, resting it on my salad and just stared at her, waiting for her to speak. "Well, I can tell you from first-hand experience, love is fleeting. As I am sure, you are aware of my relationship with Mr. Walton."

I only nodded and resumed eating my salad.

She dipped her finger in her water and guided it around the rim of her glass until it produced a light whirring sound. Had it been any other time, I would have been impressed or amused, but now it was just annoying.

"When I first discovered that he had a mistress, I was devastated, naturally." She removed her finger from the rim and brought her hands to her lap. "But as you know, we are still together. I stayed because I knew his time with her, or any of the others that followed was temporary. So, I let him continue to do whoever he pleases, and in return, I can do whoever I wish. Why throw away a marriage and years of commitment because of a fling?"

I just stared in shock at her openness on the topic. I had always wondered how they could stay together. "Donna, why are you telling me this?"

She ate another spoonful of soup and sipped at her water. The server stopped by briefly to make sure everything was as expected. I didn't look away from Mrs. Walton as she responded politely.

Then she turned her focus back to me once the server moved to attend to other patrons. "I am giving you a solution to the problem. You two get married but agree to have an open relationship from the start. Eric's already agreed to it."

I couldn't believe what she was suggesting, and that Eric was okay with it. We were only twenty-three and just starting our lives outside college, and she was already suggesting we have an open marriage. "You're joking, right?"

"I'd never joke about this." She sipped at her water again, then looked at me very seriously. "I can't possibly allow you to walk away from the wedding. With it being just a month away, it would look awful, and the press would have a field day. It would not look good for us or Eric's future."

I knew politics and status were the two greatest factors that drove Eric's family through the years. Still, I never realized just how seriously they took it, until that moment. "Just to make sure I understand you clearly. You want me to marry Eric even though we don't love each other?"

"Precisely." She smiled, but it was nowhere near genuine. "Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices if you want to succeed."

"I'm sorry, Donna. I just can't."

She surprised me when she banged her fist against the table. I had never seen her lose her demeanor like that. "You can, and you will. Mark my words, Vicky, if you don't go through with this wedding and ruin the Walton family reputation, I will destroy you. You'll never get a single job in the architect industry in New York, or anywhere else." She breathed a little to calm her words as she continued. "And not only that, I will make sure your parent's marina goes down too. I know many people who would only be too happy to repay us with any favors we need."

Oh, how I wanted to throw my entire, barely eaten salad at her then. Tears started falling as I realized her threats were authentic. "You're a terrible person," I spat.

"No, darling. I'm a protective mother and wife to a powerful family," she asserted. "So it would be wise if you get on board and marry my son. And if you don't, I assure that you will regret it."

I couldn't be there anymore. "Are we done here? I've lost my appetite and would like to be anywhere but here."

She could see that her point had gotten across loud and clear. She grinned a devilish, yet victorious grin and nodded. "Yes, dear, of course." I got up and grabbed my jacket and purse. As I turned to leave, she added in the most friendly tone. "I'll see you in a week for your bachelorette party. I know I'm excited to celebrate with you."

***********

The whole subway ride home, I sat like a petrified log on the plastic bench. I didn't look at anyone, or if I did, I wasn't really looking. My body was just going through the robotic motions. I even missed my stop and had to get off at the next one. Instead of taking the opposite train back one-stop, I walked the rest of the way.

It was a beautiful afternoon, and the air was warm. People were passing by me, laughing and enjoying their life, while here I was at what felt like the end of mine.

I was being forced to marry Eric. Forced was putting it lightly. Maybe blackmailed or threatened into marrying him would be better terms. I couldn't believe he was on board with it. I thought about calling Eric and asking him his thoughts on it to see if it was his idea, or if it really was his mother's plan, but I didn't. I knew calling him would be pointless and just a waste of energy. The energy I still didn't really have after the last few days of drama after drama occurring.

By the time I got back to my building, I was so full of pent-up emotion I knew I would burst. I took the elevator to the rooftop terrace. I was grateful when I walked out and saw that I was the only one there. I realized as I walked across the turf that it was still a weekday, and most tenants were at work or school. I went to the high-walled ledge of the building and stared out at the skyline.

I breathed in the deepest breath I could, and instead of doing a slow and steady exhale, I let out a loud bellowing yell. It felt so good that I did it a second time. Then I drifted back into one of the lounge chairs, curled my knees up to my chest, and hugged them tightly, as I lowered my head on top of them and cried.

It wasn't long before I heard footsteps approaching. But I didn't move or react. I just continued to cry.

"Excuse me, Ms. Ashcroft. Are you okay?" Oscar, the maintenance man, said carefully from a slight distance. "Someone reported a loud yell coming from here."

I picked up my head, and with a quivering lip, I admitted, "It was me. I'm sorry if I frightened anyone. I just needed to..." I couldn't finish my sentence and started bawling into my knees again.

I saw Oscar's shadow inch closer. "May I get you some water or help you back down to your apartment?"

I looked up at his kind, aged eyes. He looked helpless, unsure of what to do. I nodded and agreed to go back to my apartment.

He held out his wrinkled, chubby hand to me. I took it, and he guided me up to stand. Then he released his grip and gently moved his hand to the middle of my back. He directed me subtly to the elevator.

We rode it down to my floor, and he followed me to my door.

"Thank you, Oscar," I said, leaning on the door. "Would you like to come in for coffee?"

"Sure." He nodded. I think he could tell that I just needed a friend at that moment.

I poured us two cups of coffee and placed one in front of him on the dining table. He thanked me as I sat next to him. I handed him sugar and little creamers, in case he needed them. He added nothing and just sipped at the unsweetened black coffee.

"I'm sorry if I worried you or anyone by screaming up on the terrace," I said, stirring cream into my cup.

He smiled wisely. "You're not the first, I can assure you."

I huffed. "I just found out that my life is not my own anymore, and I don't know how to get it back."

He studied his mug as if the black liquid held a secret he was trying to decipher. "Well, from my seventy-some odd years on this planet, I can tell you one thing I've learned that may help."

"Please tell me," I begged.

"We all have a choice in this world. We can succumb to what life has dealt us, or we can fight and write our own destiny."

I sipped my coffee, enjoying the slightly sweet and bitter burn pouring down to the pit of my stomach. "But what if we choose to fight and destroy another life, or lives, in the process?"

"Well then, you must decide if the fight is worth the destruction."

A few minutes passed as I was lost in my thoughts. Realizing I was probably holding him up from working, I snapped back to the present. "Thank you. You've really helped and given me a lot to consider."

Oscar smiled and finished his coffee. Standing up, he walked his cup to the kitchen and gently rinsed it in the sink. "Thank you, Ms. Ashcroft, for the coffee. Are you going to be okay?"

I stood and walked over to open the door for him. "I'll survive." I smiled faintly.

He thanked me again and walked back in the elevator's direction. I shut the door and sat down in my armchair. I pulled out my phone from my back pocket and quickly searched my contacts. It barely rang before the other line picked up. "Vicky, dear. It was so wonderful to see you today for lunch."

The sound of her voice suddenly made me cringe. "It was wonderful!" I lied. "I just wanted to tell you how excited I am to see you next week at my bachelorette party. We must catch up some more then."

"I'd love to. Thank you for following up with me. I'll see you soon."

"Have a safe trip home, Mrs. Walton." I hung up before she could respond.

Fucking politics! How was I going to explain this to Ryan? To Sasha? To my parents? I cursed the day I said, "Yes" to fucking Eric Walton.