16
I still remembered my gentle, perfect older sister, sobbing her heart out before she left. She’d insisted that she had to follow her artist boyfriend back to Europe, that her life wouldn’t be complete otherwise. I had
wondered at the time why they had to leave the country. If their family disapproved, they could have just
found a place to live on their own.
Parker elaborated, “But all I did was give her the means to pursue her own happiness. They wanted to go. I
gave them ten million dollars. It was, for all intents and purposes, a transaction.”
A transaction for them, maybe. But not for me.
Parker knew it, too. His voice was laced with guilt. “It was wrong of me. I know that. And that’s another rea- son I didn’t touch you for so long. It wasn’t just that I was afraid of scaring you. I was afraid that if you knew how I’d schemed to marry you, and then… took something so precious from you… you would regret it.”
For children of prominent families like ours, arranged marriages were a fact of life. Honestly, before I marri- ed Parker, I had no complaints. I was even a little relieved. He was, after all, ridiculously handsome.
But hearing him say this now, a warmth bloomed in my chest.
“I never hated you, Parker. In fact, getting to know you, I’ve discovered so many different sides to you. I don’t
know if this is what love is, but I know that being with you makes me happy.”
“That’s enough.”
Parker, a man who had everything, was so easily satisfied when it came to love. He whispered the words again, as if to convince himself. “You’re happy. That’s enough.”
A teary smile broke across my face. I stood on my toes and kissed him.
That night, we didn’t do anything. We just sat curled up on the sofa in our home theater, watching a movie. During a scene where the male lead confessed his love, I turned my head to look at Parker.
“So, when did you fall in love with me?” Or rather, when did the secret crush begin?
“At our university graduation ceremony,” he said softly. “You held my hand for a second.”
I was astonished. “That’s it?”
“Mm. That’s it.”
I laughed and climbed onto his lap, straddling his waist. “You don’t have a love–addled brain. You have a
Nora–addled brain.”
Parker shifted, reversing our positions and capturing my mouth with his. He didn’t deny it.
“You’re right,” he murmured against my lips. “I have a Nora brain.”
(The End)
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